The Lion Heart (Rogue Academy Book 2)

by Carrie Aarons

  Fallen in love with … how is that for irony? The first and only woman I’ll ever love, doesn’t want me to be in love with her.

  It guts me that I can’t be there for her. That she’s shut me out, that I can’t knock down her door with my fist and demand she let me comfort her.

  The worst part is that she’s right there, within an arm’s length.

  Shaking my head to clear the fog of dejection, I pass to Jude, who sprints the ball up the field as if it’s easier than sitting down on the couch. He flicks it with his boot, skirting one of our teammates on the other side of the pitch, and sends it soaring into the goal past Remus.

  We all cheer, though not too gloatingly because we are playing our squad. Remus shoots a pistol finger at Jude, swearing about how that’ll be the only one he ever sinks in the back of the net on his watch.

  I move back to my position, grinding my boots into the grass, waiting for the next drill we’re going to run.

  “Feels good, eh, mate?” Jude jogs up alongside of me, sweat dripping from his face.

  “Like the good old days, except I care more and am not thinking about the girl I’m going to shag tonight.” I grin, trying to keep the despair from my expression.

  I’m positive my best friend sees it anyway.

  “Have you seen Poppy?” he asks gently.

  Well, I guess he can see right through to my wonky mood. “No, I’m trying to give her space.”

  “That’s a first. Bugger, I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so against you respecting her wishes.”

  A whistle sounds, signaling a break to grab water or a quick bite. I don’t feel much like either, so instead, I plop down on the grass, collapsing to my back and looking up through the giant opening in the roof of the stadium.

  “What do you mean? You’ve been on my back for years to be an upstanding citizen, and now I’m trying to be, and you want me to be dodgy again?”

  Jude sits down next to me, leaning back on his elbows to glance up at the clouds. “You’re Kingston Phillips, you can’t be fully upstanding. We all expect a little recklessness and obnoxious behavior from you. Case in point, I think you should knock down Poppy’s door and tell her you love her.”

  Has he been reading my thoughts? The idea is so similar to the one I’ve been having, and so preposterous, that a hiccup of laughter explodes from my throat.

  “Who says I love her?”

  “That pathetic puppy dog pout you’ve been wearing since she ran out on you at Marin says it.” Jude shrugs.

  “Harsh, mate.”

  “But true. Take it from one lovesick man to another; you’re bloody toast. Well-done, burnt to a crisp, in love. I knew it from the minute Poppy walked into that club and told you off … you’ve been in love with her for a long time. Maybe before you realized it. And you wouldn’t be Kingston if you didn’t shove that fact down her throat.”

  “Don’t you talk about her throat,” I half-joke, trying to make light of the heavy conversation he’s trying to have.

  “See, that right there! Pure Phillips teasing. Now take some of that scoundrel spirit and go after her, mate. She needs you, even if she thinks what she needs is space. Loving her, smothering her with it, is the best thing you can give her right now.”

  The organ in my chest both beats double-time and cowers in fear.

  I give voice to the one thing that’s been cycling through my mind since Poppy told me not to follow her. It’s the big bad wolf of fears, that one that’s lived inside my head since before she came into my life.

  The fear that I care for someone, and all they will see me as is a nuisance. Just like my own parents.

  “What if … what if she doesn’t want my love?”

  Jude raises an eyebrow, looking down at me. “Pshh, mate, you’re Kingston Bloody Phillips, she’d be daft not to want your love. Besides, Aria all but told me Poppy does.”

  Ah, yes, now I remember why I keep him around. The inside access.

  I guess it’s time to pull one last prank, though I won’t be joking and there will be no fool if all goes to plan.

  There will only be us, Poppy and I, solidly together.

  37

  Poppy

  After I file my case, joining the thirty-three other women Nicolai DeCallen raped or assaulted over the years, my world implodes.

  The media coverage of Poppy Raymond coming out with her story has been … catastrophic. My face is splashed on every newspaper, telly, social media site, and every possible form of communication in between. I had to have Claud shut down the number to my mobile and get me a new one. I deactivated my Facebook and Instagram accounts. I can’t turn on the television or listen to the radio.

  Not because I think that telling my truth was a mistake because I adamantly agree it wasn’t. I’m glad it’s out, that I don’t have this dirty little secret corroding my soul any longer.

  But having to hear people’s opinions on it, the talking head commentators or the Internet trolls … I want no part of it. They don’t know what he did to me; they don’t know how I feel. It’s incredible what people believe is their business to discuss and pass judgment on.

  The front desk called up ten minutes ago, saying something had arrived in the post for me and could they bring it up. I didn’t really want them to, but the staff at Charlton House are so polite and kind; they’ve been steadfast in protecting my privacy the past few weeks. So, I agreed.

  Opening my door when the bell chimes, wary that the doorman is about to ask me questions I don’t ever want to answer, I’m stunned at who is waiting on the other side.

  “Just give me a minute.” He holds up his hands as if I might bolt.

  Blimey, he looks dishy. I’ve always been a lost cause when he grows that stubble out, all the golden facial hair making him look like some sort of caveman. And if it’s possible, being back at RFC has toned his arms even more than they already were. For a split second, I fantasize about all of those muscles working in tandem as he hovers over me on a bed—

  “I can’t stay away any longer.” Those jade green eyes bore right into me.

  Of course, I’ve thought about him being just on the other side of my wall. I’ve heard him bumbling around in there, have pressed my ear to the paint to listen. Has he moved on? Maybe he’s seeing someone else.

  Surely, his insistent phone calls and text messages would say otherwise, but I wouldn’t truly know. I haven’t answered any of them.

  How can two people, who live right next door to one and other, seem oceans apart?

  Because I made it that way. Made it impossible to get close to me again.

  Apparently, Kingston isn’t listening any longer.

  “Kingston, I—” I’m about to tell him that I’ve been an idiot, that I’m a fool for ever shutting him out.

  That I’m in love with him, and the only thing I want more than Nicolai in prison for what he’s done, is to be in Kingston’s arms as the trial starts and the world falls down around me. Because if he’s there with me, I can be brave.

  He holds up a hand. “I didn’t sock the guy’s lights out because I’m trying to be more. For you. I don’t want to be the bloke who just reacts without thinking about the consequences. Because the consequence of pummeling that bloody wanker into the floorboards would be that I don’t get to stand by you. That I don’t get to hold your hand through the roughest time of your life, because I know this is going to be really bloody hard, Poppy. I want you to be able to lean on me, and you wouldn’t be able to do that if I got myself thrown out of the club and sent to play football in Siberia or something. I decided not to engage in immature, daft behavior so that I could stand by you as the man you deserve. And if you’re mad about that, then you’re mental. I mean, I know you’re mental, but even more than I already thought. Can’t you see, I bloody love you. I would only try to play the smart move for you; I’ll only ever be in love with you. So, just fucking let me.”

  His diatribe shocks me so profoundly to the core that I think I
stand there with my mouth wide open for more than two minutes. I just stare at him, this beautiful, brilliant, broken man who is healing himself so that he can heal me.

  “I … I’m in love with you, too. So I must be mental. Blimey, who falls in love with their arse of a neighbor that they can’t stand?”

  Kingston swoops me up into his arms, spinning us until I’m dizzy and can no longer feel the sting of our interaction with Nicolai or the dread about the trial to come.

  “You did, you gorgeous woman. And I’m damn thrilled you did, since I’d probably be passed out in some pub in Nova Scotia, playing D-league football. Poppy, I didn’t realize all I had to live for until I met you. That sounds bloody cheesy, but it’s true. You smacked some sense into me, made me realize that I could take control of the way I was living. And you can do the same thing, love.”

  We’re quiet as I twine my arms behind his neck and hug him to me. The feeling is exquisite, chasing the loneliness and despair out of my heart in an instant. I was a fool to believe I didn’t need this man.

  “You couldn’t at least have slugged him? Just once?” I tilt my head to the side, smirking at him.

  “Do you want me in a jail cell, or holding your hand in the courtroom at his trial?” Kingston twists a lock of my hair through his fingers.

  Sighing, I let my forehead drop to his chest. “I don’t know if I can do it. Go through my account of things again, face him … face the media. Everyone will know, Kingston.”

  “And I will be right here. What can I do? What will help? A cup of tea?”

  An idea blossoms, not in my head, but in my heart. I say the words before I can second guess them.

  “Take me to bed. Be the first man to make love to me. Be the only man to show me what it feels like when two people love each other.”

  And without hesitation, Kingston lets me lead him into my flat.

  38

  Poppy

  My hand isn’t shaking, but calm and steady as Kingston’s eyes sweep over me.

  Standing before my bed, fingertips intertwined, I feel nothing at this moment but pure, raw love.

  Part of me always wondered how I would feel when I finally decided to lose my virginity. Most of it had been taken from me without permission, an abuse of my body and my sexual decisions just stolen. But when I finally got to decide, would it be with doubts?

  Would there be fear about lying down with a man and letting him enter me in the most intimate way possible? Would I be able to go through with it, knowing how much pain and trauma I’d been through?

  But as Kingston brings his hands up to my face and delivers one of the deepest kisses I’ll ever experience, the sensation rolling all the way down to my toes; I have no uncertainty.

  My mind is a haze of lust, pleasure, love, and affection; the only thing I want to do is watch Kingston enchant my body while I do the same to him.

  His fingers inch my leggings down, and I want to scream at him to both hurry up and take his time. I’m burning up as I watch the top of Kingston’s sandy blond mop as it descends down my body. When he gets to my nipples, still encased in my camisole tank, his wet, hot saliva hits the material over each nipple. I groan, the sensation almost too much for me to take.

  “You taste amazing, even like this.” His words make the place between my thighs burn.

  Together, we lie down, moving over the plane of the mattress together. Our hands undress, the dance of sex which we’ve been practicing but haven’t completed thus far. We’ve become exceptional at this, creating our own numbers and steps to follow. I pull his shirt over his head; he slips the straps of my shirt or bra down. My bottoms have usually been disposed of earlier, and I trace the lines in his back and shoulders, sucking on the sensitive spot of his earlobe, as he pulls off my top and underwear.

  Kingston’s rough hands run down my body, skimming over the lines of it and teasing at the sensitive spots. His fingers creep lower, as do mine, both of us yearning to touch the other and hear the noises we make together.

  He finds my center first, dipping a finger tentatively inside and using the wetness that coats it to rub at the sensitive bud between my thighs. As he mesmerizes my body, using all of those magical skills he possesses, I unbuckle his jeans and push them past his hips. His boxers snag on them, giving way as I push, and his erection springs free.

  My lord, the man is big in every aspect of his figure. I’ve been introduced before, having tasted and gripped the beautiful piece of anatomy. There is something powerful in being able to shut a man like Kingston Phillips up. And when he came …

  Just thinking about it now makes me flush and more wetness pools low in my core.

  Kingston adds a finger to where he’s working my opening, pressing a knuckle past my lips until I groan from the erotic stretching.

  “I love you,” he whispers as he fingers me, his mouth coming down on mine.

  The sensations become overwhelming, swamping my system as the tension he’s building with his touch pulls tighter and tighter, until …

  My legs go rigid, a careening wail exploding from my throat as I climax and the edges of my vision go white. Kingston holds me, his lips still on mine and his fingers still inside me until I’m panting and spent.

  “Kingston. I’m ready,” I whisper, everything inside of me tingling from the orgasm.

  My muscles are relaxed, and every part of me is sure that this is the right moment.

  He sits up, and I hear the clink of his belt on the floor as he shuffles through his jeans. Kingston comes back up with a condom, rolling it onto his pulsing erection. I watch as the latex sheaths over him and wonder for a brief moment if this will hurt.

  Of course, I’ve had his fingers inside of me. After the first time I gave him permission to enter me that way, and it only hurt for a few seconds. Each time after, the pleasure built deeper and deeper, until Kingston was giving me climaxes I hadn’t even thought were possible.

  I lie back, spreading my legs for him. I’m so wet and hot that just that motion makes me hurdle toward the edge of another orgasm. Kingston moves over me, nudging my thighs open. Just the size of his broad torso, much less the endowment hanging between his legs, should be intimidating but it isn’t. Because I’m focused on his expression; one of pure love, aimed right at me.

  “Look at me.” He grunts, and I can tell he’s losing control but trying to grasp at the reins. “This is going to be uncomfortable, but I think it will be better if I just do it quickly. Grab me, bite me, do whatever you need to do to dull the pain. This is about you. And if, for any reason, you want to stop, you tell me.”

  Kingston’s eyes, his heartfelt plea and command, beg me to understand. Beg me to tell him yes.

  I nod; my entire body throbbing with the need to be one with him.

  And, as if I’ve unleashed the beast, he thrusts into me in one, smooth motion.

  I keep my eyes locked on his as I let out a breathy, pained cry, adjusting to the invasion. The searing burn of his knob deep inside me has me inching away, but even the movement brings a stab of pain. I cling to Kingston, fighting back tears as my nails dig into his shoulder blades.

  Just as I’m about to tell him it’s too much, the pain begins to dull. The uncomfortable sensation abates, giving way to something … delicious. The tingles unfurl from my core outward, and I wiggle, not to get away but to further explore it.

  “You. Okay?” A strained groan comes from his lips.

  I bring his gaze to mine, using my hands to capture the sides of his face. “I love you. You’re not hurting me. Make love to me.”

  “Poppy …” He pulls almost all the way out and pumps into me again, making me whimper.

  “Kingston …” His name is a breath I expel as he picks up, the go-ahead I’ve given an invitation to lose himself.

  And this is the dance I’ve been waiting my whole life to experience, with the one partner I’d always wished to find.

  “I love you, I love you, love you …” It’s a chant he’s
repeating, a madman brought to the brink. By me.

  Kingston slams into me, holding himself there while he comes. I watch the euphoria light up his face, the way he tenses but completely relaxes all at once.

  “Oh, yes. We’re definitely going to need to do that again.” I giggle, my voice hoarse, as I stroke my fingers up and down his back.

  “And again, and again.” He nods against my temple. “As soon as I can catch my breath.”

  He’d stolen mine, and I wasn’t sure I ever wanted it back.

  39

  Kingston

  “Kiss your man, he scored a goal.”

  I rub my cheek into hers as she tries to push me away, chuckling as my fresh-out-of-the-shower hair drizzles droplets onto her shirt.

  “Ugh, you’re wet. Kingston, stop!” Poppy swats at me, but it’s no use.

  I scored a goal in my first match back, and the first one Poppy’s ever sat in the family suite for, so I deserve some snogging.

  “You know you’ll have to come to every game now and sit in the exact spot, right?” I tell her.

  She eyes me. “I didn’t realize you were so superstitious. You do know that’s all a load of codswallop, right?”

  Shaking my head, I dip my head for another kiss. “Nope. You have to be here from now on, every match.”

  Huffing, she takes my hand and leads me out of the room. “I have my own career, and a burgeoning position at the Females Against Abuse nonprofit.”

  I love it when she gets all independent and cheeky with me. “Love, I’m kidding. Our season will suffer, but you’ll have the career you want.”

  Poppy makes a face as if she might throttle me, or impale me with the dagger of her high heel. Since the night I stormed her door and she gave me her virginity, we’re back to our old dynamic. Pissing each other off, sarcastic barbs, steamy snogging, couple things.