Chapter 55 Don't want to?
BASTIAN'S POV
He’s frustrated.
It’s radiating off him in beautiful waves, written in the sharp set of his jaw and the way his chest heaves with every shallow, indignant breath. His arms are locked tight across his chest, a defensive barricade I have every intention of dismantling. He glares up at me, his eyes dark with a fury that most people wouldn’t survive aiming in my direction. But from him, it’s practically a siren song.
George pulls away behind him, the car disappearing down the gravel path, but I don’t need to look to know he won't go far. He never does. He’ll be lurking somewhere close unless I order him not to.
A slow smile threatens at the corner of my mouth, uninvited and a little strange. Lately, nothing holds my attention quite like this. Like he does. Deals close, numbers rise, people fold exactly the way they’re supposed to, and none of it lands the way he does. This bartender standing in front of me like he’s ready to go to war. I let my gaze drag over him. Taking inventory of the clothes, the stance. The fact that...
"You’re not wearing the clothes I bought you."
"No," he barks, the word catching on a harsh edge of spite. "I’m not."
I chuckle, the sound low and dark. The bite in his tone only makes the air between us feel more electric, more saturated with the friction of two things that were always meant to collide. I step deeper into his space, closing the space between us like it was never meant to exist. Crowding him until the scent of his skin fills my lungs.
He doesn’t move an inch. If anything, that glare of his deepens, like he’s doubling down on it.
I reach out, not for his face, but for his wrists. My fingers close around the pulse points where his arms are still crossed over his chest. I can feel the frantic rhythm of his heart beneath my grip. He's once again being betrayed by his body even as his eyes remain ice-cold. I feel the resistance, the readiness to pull back, but I don’t give him the option. I pry his arms apart slowly. Then I pin his wrists down at his sides, keeping him open and vulnerable as I lean down, my mouth hovering just inches from his, so close I can feel the heat radiating from his lips.
"Wipe that glare off your pretty face, Kaden." My voice is a silken threat. The vineyard stretches out around us as I tighten my grip just enough to remind him exactly who owns this moment. Owns him. "...And kiss me."
"You had me fucking kidnapped," he spits, his voice trembling with a rage that's as intoxicating as the vintage wine maturing in this place.
I pull him a fraction closer, watching the way his pupils blow wide, swallowing the hazel of his irises. "Kidnapped?" I repeat, the word a low hum against his lips. "That would imply you’re here against your will. And yet, I don't see you kicking. I don't hear you screaming. You're here because you want to be exactly where I am."
"Your damn driver slashed my tire!" he fires back, his chest heaving against mine, the friction of his movement sending a sharp bolt of heat straight to my gut.
I shrug, the motion casual and dismissive. "The tire's already been replaced with something that won't fail you on the highway."
"That's not the fucking point!"
"Okay," I say, my voice dropping. I let one of his wrists go, but only so I can slide my hand up his arm, my thumb digging into the soft skin of his bicep. I lean in until my forehead rests against his, forcing him to breathe my air. "You can educate me on exactly what the point is. You can scream at me for an hour if it makes you feel better. But do so after you kiss me."
He stills. The fire in his eyes doesn't go out, but it changes. It turns into something colder, sharper....something that actually manages to prick through my armor.
"You don't respect me."
The bite is gone, it's just a flat, devastating statement of fact. He's looking at me like he's daring me to challenge it. The silence that follows is weighted. I study the stubborn line of his mouth, the way he’s trying so hard to remain unaffected while his pulse is drumming against my thumb.
"I rearranged my entire day for this," I let my hand slide from his bicep to the back of his neck, my fingers tangling in the hair there. "Moved meetings. Pushed back decisions that don’t get pushed back. All because I refused to let the sun go down before I had you within touching distance. Do you honestly think I’d sabotage my own schedule for someone I don't respect?"
Kaden scoffs, a sharp sound that cuts through the quiet. He shakes his head, but he can't pull away from my grip. His eyes find mine, and they're absolutely lethal.
"You didn't do that because you respect me, Bastian. You did it because you've got an ulterior motive," he retorts, his voice a razor-edged whisper. "And if you think I’m buying anything else,” he adds, tone dropping, "….then you’re not just disrespecting me. You’re assuming I’m stupid enough to fall for it.”
For a second, I feel something shift in my chest. Not quite anger, something sharper. Something that makes me look at him a little differently.
"Is that really what you think?" I murmur, my thumb tracing the artery in his neck.
"It's what I know," he fires back.
He’s flushed, defiant, and the way his eyes darken when he’s trying to dismantle my ego is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I let my hands drop from his neck, sliding down his spine until I palm his ass with both hands. I squeeze, pulling him upward and into me, making sure he feels the physical reality of the hunger he’s provoked.
His hands snap to my chest, his palms flat against my suit as he tries to wedge some distance between us. “I’m talking to you,” he snaps, breath uneven. “ And you’re not even listening....I don't wanna be here, I wanna go back home.” There’s a hollow, quiet genuineness in his voice.
It’s a simple remark, but it does something to the rhythm of my heart that I don't recognize....and I certainly don't like it. It feels like a shift in power I didn't authorize.
"You want me to be a gentleman with you, Kaden?" I ask, my grip tightening on him, keeping him flush against my thighs. "To treat you with the sterile, polite respect I give my board members?"
He doesn't answer immediately. His eyes dart around the sprawling estate, scanning the rows of vines and the stone terrace, his body tense like he expects to spot an audience.
"There’s no one else here," I assure him, my voice dropping an octave. "It’s my land. No eyes. No cameras."
He scoffs, shaking his head as a bitter smile touches his lips. "Of course it is. Everything's yours, isn't it?"
I lean in, my mouth inches from the shell of his ear, letting my breath warm his skin. "I respect you, Kaden. I respect you as a professional, as the face that's going to redefine my brand. I respect your talent. Isn't that what you asked for?"
"Just that?" he asks, his voice a thread of sound, his palms still braced against my chest as if he's holding back a landslide.
I shrug, the movement small and calculated. I let my hands slide back up to his waist, pinning him in place. "You’ll have to earn the rest. But don't worry, the qualifications are stupidly low."
I tilt his chin up with my thumb, forcing him to meet my gaze. The air between us is heavy with the scent of ripening grapes and the raw, unpolished tension of everything we haven't said.
"The first one," I whisper, my eyes dropping to his mouth, "is a kiss."
His gaze falls to my lips, heavy and expectant. I can feel the shift in the air, that moment of surrender I’ve been orchestrating since he stepped out of the car. He starts to lean in, his breath hitching, and for a second, I think I’ve won.
Then his hand moves. It doesn’t go to my shoulder or my waist. It wraps firmly around my neck. My eyes narrow, the sudden pressure of his palm against my throat sending a jolt of adrenaline straight to my marrow.
"Don't want to?" I ask, my voice a low, dangerous rasp.