But when I go to search for the words, I find I can’t begin to tell him. “Can you … I need time. Can you give me time? I’ve never told anyone about this … this is the closest I’ve come to telling someone what he did to me.”
Kingston audibly swallows, and I see the evil rage pulsing in his eyes. He wants to rip Nicolai’s throat out. A lion … that’s what I’ve come to think of Kingston as. He might as well be a prince of England, the lion is a national symbol. Fiercely loyal to those who he deems worthy, and brute in his passion for what he wants to protect.
And now, he wants to protect me.
“Whenever you’re ready.” The words are clipped, and I know it’s not in frustration with me. “But know, I will end him.”
He’s furious that he can’t go after the man who hurt me without knowing exactly what he did.
I glance out the window, wondering for the first time since I was led by him to the car, just where we’re going. I feel his hand twine around my own, and I nestle my fingers farther into the embrace of his, even as my eyes stay locked on the scenes passing by my window.
We sit in silence as the driver pulls up to an ornate wrought iron set of gates. He rolls down his window, supplying the security detail with a name, and they press the button to open the barriers and let us through.
I turn my attention to the windshield where I can see the property unfolding as we near it. The compound in front of us is made up of several sprawling white residences surrounded by gardens overflowing with rich flowers and tall grasses. It rivals Kensington Palace in size, and I’m so stunned by the sheer majesty of it that I’m rendered speechless for a moment.
“This is my parent’s home. My … childhood home,” Kingston supplies.
All I can do is gape, marveling at the place Kingston calls his childhood home.
It’s palatial, so grand in every aspect that I half expect someone to be stationed out front, instructing visitors that they’re not to take pictures of the interior. The architecture is pure English, with whitewashed stone and stately columns, curving molding, and small statues sculpted into the eaves of the roof. Kingston’s house is not a house at all … its wings branching off of a manor that is something out of a dream.
“You grew up here?” I can’t hide the astonishment in my voice.
I’ve been to palaces, mansions, and some of the biggest venues in the world. I know what wealth looks like, but this? It practically rivals one of the Windsor residences.
Kingston shrugs, trying to brush off my amazement, but I see the hard set of his eyes. Anyone who assumes he’s the good-time bloke he tries to sell wouldn’t notice it. Though we haven’t fully talked about it, our demons are compatible. From what Aria has let slip, I know he was abused as a child. This place probably looks like a prison in his eyes. And I just put it on some pedestal. Could I be any more daft?
“It’s not that big of a deal.” His voice is stony and I see a tic in his jaw that both has me wanting to lick the spot and comfort him.
Lord, how can one man elicit so many emotions? It shouldn’t be legal.
As we exit the car and enter the groups of charity guests that have been invited for an after-party soiree, I marvel at how ornate every detail of his childhood home is. Kingston walks a half step ahead of me, clearly trying to get somewhere that is out of the limelight of this show of wealth his parents are putting on. Honestly, I wouldn’t have come to this if Kingston hadn’t helped me to his car, but now that I’m here, I have the fiercest urge to follow him.
I’m not even thinking about the fact that Nicolai could be somewhere on this estate; the only thing I can focus on is soothing Kingston like he just did for me.
“You’re right. Diddy’s place is much nicer than this.” I sniff, my nose in the air, covering up my mistake for both of us. “Did you spend much time here as a child?”
I can’t help myself. In a sudden turn of events, because this evening has been anything but normal, I want to know as much as I can about Kingston. I swore to myself I’d stay away from him but now I find myself following him deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole. If I’m not careful, I’m going to fall too deep.
“As little time as I possibly could. I was recruited for the academy when I was seven, and I’d stay there through each holiday. That is, if the groundskeepers didn’t kick me out or my mum was sent to fetch me and drag me home.” The bitterness is anything but unmissable.
A pang in my heart echoes through the chambers of the organ, sorrow filling my chest for a little boy who felt he couldn’t return home. No … not that he felt he couldn’t. That he didn’t want to. Even now, with the state my relationship was in with my parents and sister, I always had a little hope spring up in my chest when I ventured home. Though my parents were having trouble, and I was furious with my father, that comforting peace of going back to where I grew up always warmed my limbs as my car pulled into town.
I can’t imagine dreading going home. From the way Kingston’s body language emits tension, disgust, and loathing I can tell he’d pay never to have to walk these halls again.
And not for the first time since the night he gave me my first kiss in my kitchen, it strikes me that there are loads more layers to this man than I ever assumed. He is not just the bumbling jester out to give everyone a laugh and a romp in the sack. Kingston Phillips is gutted too …
Gutted just like me.
Kingston turns a corner and the noise and music from the party are far away now, the air almost completely silent. He’s not trying to get rid of me, but he’s so tense that he hasn’t looked back to check on me until now. We’re standing in what seems to be a library by the time he turns around, his jaw ticking and his eyes hard.
“Sorry. I just … don’t like to come here.”
Before I can talk myself out of it, I cross the room, loop my arms around his neck, and press up on my toes to do the one thing I’ve been thinking about since he gave me my first one.
I kiss him.
It’s the first time I’ve initiated contact with a man, and I’m shocked that my mind and body actually let me without some kind of mental block. Every other time I’ve even contemplated being close with someone, there is a brick wall in my brain—the one put there five years ago.
But with Kingston, I don’t think at all. It’s just like the first kiss we shared, my mind goes blank and all I run on is sensations. The touch of his mouth against my own. The sweep of his hand down the open back of my dress. The way his tongue curls past my lips with such finesse, I don’t realize he’s made the snogging more intimate, but heat starts to pool between my thighs.
After a day fraught with emotional baggage on each of our parts, this is the ultimate cathartic act. I’m glad I had the nerve to summon the courage and snog him, because it’s the best decision I’ve made in a long time. I want to feel again, and I want Kingston to be the one who makes me do it. I want him to be the man who wipes away the painful memories and the shame of what happened to me.
I want to smooth his tension away, too, and I pull my mouth from his to plant wet, open-mouthed kisses down his cheeks and jaw. The place where it had been ticking when he walked into the house, where I could see his expression filled with the ghosts of this house.
I don’t know what I’m doing, have never gone this far in my twenty years. Though, Kingston doesn’t seem to notice, because he’s groaning as if I’m the one putting him in pain. I know, from many of the romantic comedies I’ve binged, that that sound means I’m doing something right.
His hands move lower into my dress, skimming over my tailbone. They’re callused and large, and when his fingertips brush against the top of my arse, I shudder.
Kingston’s voice is deadly quiet. “Poppy, are you not wearing any knickers?”
A furious blush spreads over my chest and up to my cheeks, and I’m glad my face is buried in the crook of his neck because I would die if he could see my embarrassment.
“Well, the dress is white, and doesn�
�t allow for lines …”
Kingston takes a step back, and the obvious bulge in his pants says I was definitely doing something right.
“Jesus Bloody Christ.” He bites down on his fist, regarding me with the most intense stare I’ve ever received. I feel like he could ignite my skin into flames by just snapping his fingers. “I … you aren’t ready for all the naughty, naughty things going through my brain. And I want to respect that. I want to go slow. So we should probably stop touching. Or I won’t be able to control myself. As it is, I want to pick you up and throw you over my shoulder like a barbarian.”
His dirty words make me flush from head to toe, and I can’t help the smirk that lights up my face.
“While I most certainly want to find out what happens when you throw me over your shoulder, you’re right. I’m not ready. Kingston … thank you. I never thought you’d be the one I was trying to do these things with but, I’m glad you’re the one.”
The phrase just slips out of my mouth, and I want to slap my hand over the daft opening. Gosh, that sounds so hopelessly romantic like I’m a schoolgirl with a crush.
But Kingston merely tries to calm his heavy breathing.
“You would not thank me if you knew the fantasies running through my brain right now.”
23
Kingston
True to my word, I stand in front of the flat next door at eight a.m.
I dressed casually, in tapered Lululemon sweatpants and a matching T-shirt, Air Jordan’s on my feet. When I told Poppy I wanted to have a breakfast date, I’d been thinking we’d stay in. She outlawed that almost immediately, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t wear the same outfit I would have if I’d cooked a full English breakfast for her in my flat.
I’d told her as much, just so she didn’t feel overdressed. That’s what Jude and Aria had told me to do, when I texted them last night to ask how to take a woman on a date after I dropped Poppy off at her door and gone alone through my own. My best mate and his girlfriend had been so excited, they FaceTimed me in a flurry of excitement, listing off every question and piece of advice between them.
Don’t talk about myself too much.
Ask her about her childhood, and why she loves her job.
Don’t brag about past hookups—apparently they had very little faith in my ability to tame my arrogance.
Do feel free to flirt and touch a little, but don’t come on too strong.
Don’t order a completely absurd dish that will require you to divert all attention to eating it. Jude specifically told me no crepes, too messy.
Do not, under any circumstances, order an alcoholic beverage. I tried to tell them it was a breakfast date, but again, they had little faith in me.
Pick up the bill.
Walk her home.
And for the love of all that is holy—Aria’s words—leave her with a gentle, passionate goodbye kiss.
Because apparently, if a man did not kiss a woman at the end of a date, no matter how well it went, there would be little hope for a romantic future.
I let the experts on dating know that there would be no confusion about that. It was all I could do not to go over to her flat in the middle of the night and demand more snogging.
“Wow, I am stunned you’re on time.” Poppy smirks as she opens the door.
Her hair lays in a long braid that she’s pulled over her shoulder, and unlike last night, her face is fresh and bare of makeup. She’s taken my casual notice to heart, wearing leggings and a long, sleeveless tunic paired with slip-on sneakers. Something wriggles free in my chest, and I realize it’s warmth—it’s the same feeling I felt the first time I had a crush in primary school.
I like Poppy best like this, and knowing that I’m probably one of the only people who gets to see her so relaxed, it’s making my head a little fuzzy.
“I told you I was taking you out for breakfast. You’ll learn quickly I’m not one to go back on a promise.”
Poppy cocks her head to the side. “Didn’t you promise me you’d stay away from my flat?”
Waving my hand in the air, I usher her to the lifts and press the button to go down to the lobby. “Semantics, and I’m sure I never used the word promise. Either way, we’re starting fresh.”
“At the crack of dawn, no less. I have to say, this sunrise date is off to an impressive start.” She raises her eyebrows at me, and we enter the lift when the doors open.
Even this early in the morning, I feel the crackle of electricity that moves between us like a live wire in the enclosed space. What is it about lifts that makes everyone randy? Is it the slight chance you could get stuck in there?
“Have you ever played that end of the world scenario game?” The thought pops into my head and out of my mouth before I can censor it.
Poppy is standing just inches from me, our pinkies nearly touching. “What do you mean?”
“Say you’re in a room, or maybe a restaurant. And you think to yourself, what if the world ended right now, and we were sealed off from the rest of humanity. And then you start looking around, thinking about who you would shag. Who is the most attractive, or who looks like someone that might be a good ally. Have you ever played that game?”
There is a smile on her full lips. “I’ll admit that I have.”
“The thought just popped into my head about what would happen if we got stuck in this lift.” I take a step toward her.
Poppy leans in, even though I’m not touching her. It’s a flirty dance, and one I very much like playing.
“So, you’re trying to tell me you’d shag me if the world ended right now? Not much of a compliment, now is it?”
“Even if we were in a room full of people, I’d pick you.” I wink.
She chuckles, leaning back as the doors open and the lobby appears before us. “You’re a smooth bugger I knew it from the start.”
“I never said I couldn’t be charming. Just watch me.” I take her elbow, helping her out of our building.
We walk around the block side by side, and I restrain myself from reaching for her hand. Technically, this is our first date, and Aria and Jude instructed me not to get too handsy. Though … we shared one of the steamiest snogging sessions I’ve ever had in my parent’s library last night, so I’m not sure this is a typical situation.
There is a small, quiet cafe about five minutes from Charlton House, and at this time of morning on a Saturday, there is barely anyone out and about. The hostess shows us to a table, and we sit, taking a few moments to study the menu in silence. Our waitress comes over, setting down two glasses of sparkling water, and asks what we’d like to eat.
“I’ll have egg whites with a side of bacon, and I’d like potatoes. But can you chop them up and bake them into a hash with some turkey bacon? And I’d like an avocado on the side, with a small amount of hot sauce. Then if you could bring some coffee and almond milk? Thank you.”
She finishes ordering, folds her menu and hands it back to the waitress, who curtly nods and then turns to take my order.
I can’t help looking at Poppy with wide eyes and a smirk. “I’ll take the full English breakfast with a side of steak and eggs.”
I’m a growing man, who burns thousands of calories a day, and I need my fuel. Now Poppy is the one looking at me like I’ve grown another head as our waitress makes off to put the order in.
“Are you carb loading for the next month or something? My heavens, that’s enough food to feed an entire army.” She picks up her water glass and takes a sip.
I drum my fingers on my knee. “And I’ll eat every bite. Who’s worse, you or me? I ordered enough food for the restaurant, but you just read the menu and treated it as your own personal cookbook.”
She grins, nodding her head. “That’s right. Someone once told me that it’s basically an ingredients list, and if you want something and know they stock it, there is no reason they shouldn’t make it for you.”
That makes me crack up. “Gosh, you’re so privileged.”
; “Says the guy whose palace I visited last night.” Poppy rolls her eyes.
“That’s not my palace. It’s my parent’s palace,” I grumble, and her expression turns to pity.
She reaches across the table, patting my hand. “I apologize, it was an insensitive quip.”
“I just don’t like to be lumped in with their lot. Yes, I was born into that privilege, and a lot of my more negative attributes can be linked to it. I loathe that I’m viewed as a spoiled brat, and I bloody hate that upper-crust air my parents and their friends have about them. As if they’re above everyone. Dealing with that kind of haughtiness … it’s tainted me. I used to believe I walked on water. Funny how getting smacked down to the fourth tier has shown me that my shite stinks just as much as everyone else’s. Sorry, that was rather disgusting.”
Poppy waves me off. “Don’t, it’s fine. And it’s true. I didn’t grow up with a lot, we always had enough to eat and new clothes come school time, but my childhood was nothing compared to where I’m at now. I get it, most people in this world do believe that they’re high and mighty, loads better than the lowly people who help to keep them where they are. By buying the products, watching the movies, buying tickets to the matches. We’re just puppets in their show, really. But money makes people mental. I’m happy you wizened up to it.”
I hadn’t meant to get into such a deep conversation over breakfast, on our first date, but now that we are here, it feels good to be able to talk to someone about it. Although I know that Jude and Vance know the struggles I have with being a Phillips, we’re blokes. We don’t discuss feelings. It would be extremely difficult for me to open up to them.
But with Poppy I feel the floodgates open.
“Growing up in that house was … well, I don’t want to say a nightmare. There are so many kids who go through horrible things, and it’s not as if I was starving or wanting for anything. But my parents they had and still have expectations. It’s a lot of pressure when you’re the offspring of two of the world’s most famous football players. It’s been Rogue or bust since I began to walk. I’m pretty sure I kicked a ball before I could even stand on my own two feet. RFC is the best club in England, the place where my parents decided to settle and build their empire. So, anything less is failure. My father …”
The Lion Heart: Rogue Academy, Book Two Page 12