Chapter 235: Liar

Kieran held the open book just out of her reach. His face was a mask of cold, stern intensity, but the tips of his ears were burning a bright, furious red.

"How long," Kieran demanded, his voice dangerously low as his eyes locked onto hers, "have you been keeping this?"

The blood drained entirely from Yuki’s face, leaving her cold from head to toe. This couldn’t be happening to her. Panic clawed at her chest as her mind raced through every single page of that sketchbook. It wasn’t a collection of cute, adorable sketches of Kieran in beautiful landscapes or stunning moments. Nope, that wasn’t it.

It was a scandalously detailed archive of every raw, unfiltered, filthy fantasy she had ever harboured about Kieran, and he was the absolute last male on earth who should ever lay eyes on it.

"Why are you going through my things?" Yuki hissed, her voice sharp with desperation as she tried to cover her burning shame.

Kieran slowly arched a thick eyebrow, looking down at her from his height. "That’s what you have to say for yourself?" A dark, quiet chuckle rasped in his throat, humming with amusement.

She gritted her teeth, wishing the floor would crack open and swallow her whole. "You shouldn’t be going through my locker, Dr. Ravencourt. That space was assigned to me," she said, trying to find a way to avoid the conversation.

Kieran scoffed, his gaze casually dropping back to the heavy paper. "My apologies. I forgot to mention this is actually my private locker room. The general staff room was full today," he casually explained, still flipping through the pages. His eyes grew more amused the further he flipped, and Yuki was dying of embarrassment.

"That still doesn’t give you the right to dig through my bag!" she snapped, her hands clenching into fists.

An evil, breathtaking smirk curled at the corner of his lips. He knew he didn’t have a valid excuse, but he hadn’t gone looking for trouble either. He had tossed his own gym bag onto the bench, opened the locker, accidentally knocked her unzipped tote in the process, and watched her sketchbook spill out onto the floor. Who could have guessed how delightfully wild her imagination was?

"I didn’t search for it, vixen. It fell out," he said smoothly, ignoring her outstretched hand as he turned the page with a deliberate flick of his fingers. "I have to admit, you’re a remarkably talented artist, but your technical accuracy leaves a bit to be desired. Especially with this one."

He tilted the notebook, displaying the current page right in front of her eyes. Yuki’s breath caught in her throat. The illustration was vivid, with heavy charcoal shading rendering the scene with terrifying clarity. It depicted Kieran kneeling on a silk cushion, wearing a sheer, clingy mesh top that left little to the imagination, with delicate silver clamps pinched over his taut nipples.

His head was thrown back slightly, dark hair rumpled, his flushed face caught in a breathless expression of helpless admiration as he looked up at the viewer. Seeing the sketch right in front of him made Yuki’s face burn as if hit by a heatwave, her own body reacting with a sudden, involuntary spike of heat. She averted her eyes, staring stubbornly at his crisp collar.

"What... what isn’t accurate about it?" she blurted out before she could stop herself.

A floorboard creaked as Kieran closed the distance between them. His clean, overwhelming scent, an intoxicating mix of pine, sterile antiseptic, and a subtle floral note, swallowed her senses whole.

"You didn’t draw the tattoo I have right above my waistline, Yuki, and I have a scar too," he purred, his deep voice dropping into a raspy whisper against the shell of her ear.

Her face went up in flames. An instant, blinding image flashed through her mind: Kieran in that exact kneeling position, his trousers low, and the dark ink of a hidden tattoo snaking dangerously close to the deep V line of his hips, buried right where her sketch had cut off. It was too much. She grabbed her nose before she could end up with a nosebleed from her filthy thoughts.

"You’re picturing it right now, aren’t you?" he whispered, his warm breath brushing the sensitive skin of her neck, sending a sharp jolt straight down her spine.

Her head snapped up, her eyes locking onto his deep sapphire gaze. He was barely an inch away, his dark lashes casting shadows over his cheekbones. She swallowed hard, her throat painfully dry.

"How often am I in that head of yours for you to fill an entire book?" he asked softly, his tone taking on a thick, dark cadence.

Yuki opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Kieran took another step forward, his towering frame crowding her space. Panicked, Yuki stumbled backwards until the back of her thighs hit the heavy steel edge of the centre island table.

Before she could dodge sideways, Kieran planted both hands on the table on either side of her hips, trapping her completely between his broad shoulders. His gaze sharpened, the teasing tone vanishing into something far more dangerous.

"That night, the night you confessed to Maverick," he murmured, his eyes searching every microexpression on her pale face. "I was the one you wanted to confess to, wasn’t I?"

Yuki’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second. She quickly shook her head, trying to pull her composure back together. "It... it was Maverick," she insisted, her voice tight. "I liked Maverick."

Kieran noticed every reaction.

"Maverick?" Kieran scoffed, leaning down so close his nose almost brushed hers. "You have a sketchbook filled almost entirely with dirty drawings of me, Yuki. There isn’t a single pencil stroke of Maverick in here."

"I just..."

"If you liked him so much," Kieran cut her off, his voice heavy with pressure and authority, "why isn’t he on a single page?"

She couldn’t answer. The silence stretched between them. Each passing second was heavy and suffocating. Kieran let out a low, dark laugh. It was a rich, addictive sound that vibrated right through her chest.

"You really are a crafty wolf, aren’t you? A clever, sly little fox. You never liked Maverick. Not for a second," he drawled with an evil, wolfish grin that did things to her.