Kiss The Villain: Chapter 27

Suspecting—or knowing—I have feelings for my grouchy asshole professor that I met under the worst circumstances has been an experience.

Not the best, according to Kayden, who’s been bombarded by what he calls ‘excessive indulgence.’

It’s been about two weeks since I came to that realization and it kind of altered my brain chemistry.

So I’ve only had one genuine-ish relationship with Harper. Aside from her, my relationships have been fleeting and meaningless, and even Harper didn’t stay for long. Yes, I took a girlfriend or two home, but they were the girls I fucked at that time.

I certainly have no damn clue how to have a relationship with a man.

An older man.

Like another generation, really. He’s definitely more mature than anyone I’ve ever been with. More than me if I’m being brutally honest.

But his age has never really bothered me. Actually, I think I’ve been drawn to his domineering personality from the get-go. And while I’d never say this out loud, the way he orders me around does strange things to me.

The fact remains, he’s entirely different from anything I’ve experienced. So I’ve been calling my parents and grandpa.

Dad said acts of service are his love language, which is true. He often does things for Mom before she even asks for them.

Mom said it’s words of affirmation and touch, which is…a no, I guess.

I have no clue what to say to him, and I kind of feel awkward touching him of my own accord. If it’s not sex, I don’t know where I’m supposed to put my hands. And he’s not a girl, so I’m not sure if I can wrap my arms around his waist all the time like I truly want.

It’s odd that I often told girls what they wanted to hear without batting an eye. Praising their looks, their bodies, their smell. It came all too naturally to me, but with him…it’s hard.

No, not hard.

Embarrassing? I don’t know, maybe because he’s the first person I’ve cared about this deeply, so I don’t want to fuck it up.

And I’m not sure if you can praise a man’s looks out loud, even if you’re fucking. He knows I’m obsessed with his smell and doesn’t mind when I bury my face in his neck, but I’m not sure if I can take it any further.

Anyway, Mom was a bit useless.

So I had a convo with my new bestie, V, the Reddit version.

That convo with V left me even more confused.

Next. Grandpa.

I had to be careful with him, because the moment I said I was brainstorming about how to make my recent crush happy, it went like this.

“Are you obsessing, Gareth?”

“Absolutely not.” Lie of the fucking century.

“Good. As long as it’s harmless.”

“Cross my heart.” Epic liar. Hey, that’s me.

But if Grandpa thinks I am obsessing, he’ll put an end to this whole thing.

Because he’s seen me obsessed with Harper and he’s seen the pool of blood and the dead eyes that followed.

Ever since then, I promised him that I’d never allow myself to get obsessed again.

Well, I’m more than obsessed with Kayden. These deranged feelings make my fixation on Harper seem like child’s play.

But Grandpa doesn’t need to know that.

He suggested I should dazzle her with my money, looks, and prestigious background. Any girl should be grateful I’m even giving her a chance.

Of course, there’s no girl, and Kayden is far from impressed by my riches and prestigious background.

Like, the man truly hates it when I overspend and keeps giving me this frown as if he doesn’t know how to fix it.

I bought him a car—a slick Aston Martin Vantage—because he doesn’t have one. When I took him to his building’s underground parking garage and dangled the keys in front of him with a “Ta-da!” he looked at me with that poker face, then raised an eyebrow. “You’re replacing your baby Medusa?”

“Over my dead body.”

“Because she’s so special?”

“Yes, she is, and stop being jealous of a car.”

“I will when you stop calling her baby.”

“Wow. Petty.”

He scowled and I laughed. “Anyway, this is for you.”

“For me?”

“Uh-huh. What do you think?”

“You bought me a car?”

“Yeah.”

“An Aston Martin?”

“Obviously.”

“Why?”

“Because you have to walk too far in this shitty weather, and I can’t drive you all the time.”

“You bought me an expensive car because I walk in the rain?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing.” I grinned, trying—and failing—not to sound too eager. “I’m rich, so this didn’t even scratch my trust fund.”

“Clearly.” He gave the keys a side-eye. “Return it, Gareth.”

“But why? You don’t want to commute to college comfortably?”

“This is flashy and will draw attention. No one would believe a college professor can afford this.” He pinned me with an austere look. “And I don’t need you to be my sugar daddy.”

I swallowed, my chest falling at the rejection and his stoic tone. “I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

He let out one of those soft sighs mixed with a smile and stroked my hair—the same hair I’ve been letting grow long because he likes yanking me up by it and running his fingers through it until I fall asleep.

“It’s the thought that counts. Thank you, my little monster.”

Then he gave me what he called an “appropriate gift.” A custom-made gold bracelet with two crossed arrows that match my tattoo engraved on the top.

Best. Gift. Ever.

I’ve been wearing it nonstop since he clasped it around my wrist.

That said, he still wouldn’t accept the Aston Martin. I left it in the building’s garage anyway for when he needs something for non-work use, then got him a boring Range Rover. He frowned at that, too, but at least he’s driving it most of the time. That’s a win, I guess.

After that, I couldn’t stop myself. I started buying him rare whiskey, imported coffee beans, high-end watches, only accessible because of my last name, custom-tailored suits, and a personalized leather briefcase.

I also bought a lot of decor items for the apartment and stuffed his wardrobe full of clothes. He frowns at every single gift, muttering about my “irresponsible spending habits,” but honestly, this is the only way I know how to take care of him. So he can just deal with it.

It’s weird, but I can’t stop myself. I want to shower him with things he loves, and lately, I can’t stop taking pictures of him, and sometimes, I force him into selfies that he doesn’t seem to enjoy. However, he lets me do whatever I want.

On top of that, I’ve been bribing Jina to teach me how to cook his favorite foods—not that it’s going smoothly. Half the time, he ends up joining me in the kitchen, trying to help, which leads to us making a complete mess.

Or he ends up fucking me on the counter.

Still, at least we’re not ordering takeout every day or I’m not sneaking leftovers from the cook at the Heathens’ mansion.

But tonight? No cooking. We’re watching a hockey game, and I’m not in the mood to mess around with food.

I hum to myself as I stack the food containers the chef prepared in a bag.

My phone vibrates, and I grab it, assuming it’s him. He hasn’t texted since this morning, so it’s about time.

My mood sours when I find my PI’s name.

So this was her reply after she sent me the entire dossier on Kayden’s ex-lovers. Isabelle Monroe, Lena Konstatinou, Hadil Kalif, and Sophia Li.

A partner in a big firm, a socialist, a company executive, and a pianist.

I’ve got stabby thoughts about every single one of them.

Didn’t help that they’re all drop-dead gorgeous. He clearly has a type: leggy, beautiful, and probably annoyingly perfect.

Sure, I could’ve just asked him about his exes, but that would mean listening to him talk about them, and I’d rather choke on glass.

What really grates is that he spent some time with all of them. Four serious exes? One is too many.

I’ve been contemplating letting her go for a while now. Partly because I’m starting to feel guilty for spying on him, and partly because I know I’ll start obsessing—more than I already am—and asking for more videos, more pictures of him with those women, and I don’t want to go down that rabbit hole.

I have enough self-awareness to realize I’ll spiral, and it’ll be a worse bloodbath than the one with Harper.

And Grandpa will be like, “I told you so.”

I categorically can’t stand the thought of him with someone else, like it truly provokes my monster side. These emotions I have for him are kind of terrifying because I don’t know how the fuck I’d act if he doesn’t stay exactly where I want him.

Completely mine.

But then I remember that, in reality, I’m the one with him now.

So those four can choke.

With that cheerful thought, I pocket my phone and go back to packing dinner.

“Oh, you’ve definitely lost it.” Killian strolls to the fridge, grabs a beer, and leans against the counter across from me, ankles crossed as he takes a sip.

My good mood starts to chip away, but I ignore him and continue adding chili flakes to the containers. Kayden likes his food spicy—definitely Jina’s influence.

“Heard you’re in love?”

I lift my head and narrow my eyes. “I’m not in love.”

“That’s not what Mom and Dad are saying.” He takes another sip, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “They keep asking about this girl who apparently has all your attention.”

“They’re exaggerating.”

“You wouldn’t look so happy preparing some couple’s meal if they were.” He pauses, smirking. “I’ve never heard you hum before.”

“You’ve never seen me do a lot of things. Your point doesn’t hold.”

“Hmm, true. You do run deeper than you show, big bro. But here’s the thing.” He moves to the other side of the island, planting his elbows on the surface. “I haven’t seen any girl around you since Cherry was out of the picture. I thought it might be that clingy fool from school, but she’s way too pliant for your tastes. You prefer fighters, no? So, tell me, who’s this mystery girl?”

I let my lips curl into a smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Kill would never suspect it’s a guy—or my professor, at that. He’s convinced I’m straight. Hell, I thought I was, too, until recently.

Not that I know what I am. I’m not gay, I don’t think. I’d have been drawn to Kayden even if he were a woman. And I still don’t find men attractive. Maybe I’m somewhere on the ace spectrum as V suggested. Or something else entirely.

Doesn’t matter. I don’t like labels anyway.

Kill tilts his head. “Scared she’d like me better?”

My hand freezes mid-motion.

He…wouldn’t. Right?

I mean, Kill is fluid—he’s fucked men before. Always on top, though, since for him, sex is power.

But Kayden wouldn’t let anyone fuck him, let alone be tempted by Killian of all people.

Right?

I’m better-looking, better company, and everyone—including Kill—knows it.

“In your dreams,” I mutter.

My brother always pulled this shit about the girls I dated, claiming they’d prefer him over me. I never cared, because those girls didn’t matter.

But I’d bash his head in if he so much as looked at Kayden.

“Ooh, you’ve got that unhinged look in your eyes, Gaz.” Kill grins wide. “I’m officially intrigued.”

“Keep your intrigue focused on your girlfriend.”

“But I’m in the mood to play.”

“Stay away from what’s mine, Kill. Don’t make me hurt you.”

“You mean like the way you stayed away from Glyn?” He taps my cheek, his grin smug and infuriating. “Hide her while you can, big bro. Payback’s a bitch.”

I slap his hand away, and he laughs as he strolls out, looking far too pleased with himself.

Goddamn prick.

Maybe I need to have another chat with Niko, make sure he keeps his big mouth shut.

He’s been unbearable since he found me corned by Kayden in the alley by the coffee shop the other day. Normally, he’s oblivious, but this time, he pieced the patterns together and figured out Kayden is the guy I mentioned months ago.

“You’re way more interesting now, cousin!” he’d shouted, barging into my room. “Fun Dick Alliance, let’s go!”

I kicked him and made him swear to keep it to himself.

How long he can hold out before spilling to Jer or Kill is anyone’s guess. Niko’s not exactly known for his discretion.

That’s why I prefer V. He’s a vault I can trust.

But the Niko angle is worrying.

It’s got me thinking I should stake a public claim.

Except there’s one glaring problem: Kayden is my professor. Going public would spark chaos—and possibly ruin his career.

I don’t want that.

At the same time, I hate this secrecy. I want him to touch me in public, kiss me in the street, and I want to blind everyone who dares look at him.

The thought of not being able to do that for three whole years sits like a brick at the bottom of my stomach.