It was okay I was an embarrassment.

I mean, who was here that cared? Matt was gone. I was good. All by myself.

I didn’t need any company.

I should’ve stayed at the estate. At least there I was starting to feel comfortable. I wasn’t treated as an outcast. I mean, an outcast who was being protected, but still. The sentiment stuck. If I went over to that lodge, I didn’t know those people. I never would know those people.

Those people … I was watching them and seeing a commotion starting. I leaned forward.

What was happening?

A large crowd had started to form, moving from down the driveway and going slowly toward the lodge, then behind it. People were running to the other side, catching up with the crowd, until a car was breaking free from the group.

It was coming toward me.

I stood, knowing, feeling, not daring to hope, and went to the edge of the banister so I could see better.

Unlike when Matt and I waited to pull in and everyone had to empty the barn so we could get out in private, Kash folded out of his car. He tossed the keys to one of the guards, his eyes lifting and finding mine. Hands in his pockets, he ducked his head down, ignoring a few guys who had tried to call out to him. Some of the stable staff lingered outside the barn, confused as to who Kash was, and then I heard him coming up the stairs.

Well, I didn’t hear him. One didn’t hear Kash. But I felt him.

I knew he was coming.

One of the guards went to the door, opened it before Kash got there, and in he strolled. His gaze locked on me and was not moving away.

He wasn’t moving away. He was coming right at me, no pause, no slowing down. It seemed like it took three steps for him to be across the room, and then he grabbed my arm and was pulling me with him down the hallway. He didn’t spare anyone a glance, just pushed open the back bedroom door, dragged me in, and closed the door. He locked it before he turned.

His gaze pinned me in place, narrowing, and he leaned back against the door.

He drawled one word. “Explain.”

And I gulped.

THIRTY-EIGHT

God.

I was itching to feel him, but he was staring at me, angry.

His voice was seemingly laid back, but he wasn’t. He so wasn’t. His body was tense. His eyes stormy. His hair was messed a little, sexily messed up. His jaw was clenching every few seconds as he waited for me to answer, and the air was electrified. I felt the pull to go to him, hard, and it was taking everything in me to remember he wanted me to say something to him.

Explain.

I frowned. “Explain what?”

He pushed off from the door, stalking toward me. My body veered backward, but my legs stayed and I was captivated by him.

He dropped his voice low, sending a sensual tingle straight between my legs. “Explain what? Explain why you’re here. Explain why you’re alone. Explain where the fuck Matt is. Explain, Bailey. Explain so I don’t leave here and rip the head off someone I consider like a brother.” He stopped, breathing down on me, inches from me. I felt his heat, warm and intoxicating, and I was having a hard time circulating my own air.

I wanted his.

“Oh.” I reached out, my hand touching his stomach, and holy God, he was tense. He was tight, and I could feel the control it was taking for him to restrain himself. It was rolling around in him, his stomach muscles vibrating, and it only got worse under my touch. His eyes were closed. His face bent down toward mine.

I said it softly, not knowing it was coming out. “I missed you.” Three long nights.

His eyes opened, anguish and need and frustration and torment all looked back at me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. My heart paused, literally paused.

He wrapped a hand around my nape, tugging me to him and closing the distance. As soon as we touched, I felt centered. Settled.

The world made sense, just for a moment, if only for that moment. Everything going around and around. Everything making me confused. Family. Years of loneliness. Love. Yearning. Wanting a father, now wanting my mother. Not knowing where I came from, as if I didn’t know where my roots anchored me to the ground.

All of that. Gone. One touch from Kash and I felt right.

“Fuck,” he whispered. His hand slid to cup the side of my face. “You’re not supposed to be here. Not without me. Never without me. And I got the call where Matt took you, and I am trying not to kill him right now.” His hand was gentle, his thumb starting to rub over my cheek. He did this. He cradled me in the palm of his hand, and every time, I fell a little bit more.