High Stakes (The Kingdom Book 2)

by Groom, Nikki

  “That’s real good, Stunner, but I’m begging you not to dip your finger any lower on my waistband. You’ve only been out of the hospital for just a few hours so …”

  “So what?” I say, teasing him by running my finger a little lower.

  He grabs my hand with the speed of a ninja and with a smirk on his face says, “So, don’t make this difficult for me. I’m beginning to think that ‘Trouble’ is actually a better name for you …”

  I say nothing. I just pout and try my best to make a sad face, when all I want to do is smile a full megawatt smile aimed totally at him.

  “No sulking. Now, come on. Let’s get you showered, and that should keep you out of mischief for a while.”

  He brings my captured hand up to his mouth, and kisses my knuckles before helping me stand, holding me steady for a second while I gain my balance.

  Denham lets me link my arm in his and we go to my apartment. I can’t help but look up and steal little glances at him. He looks tired after all the worry of the last couple of days, and he’s also unshaven, which I decide I really like. It gives his already chiseled, handsome face an edge and I love how he can pull off so many looks so effortlessly.

  We enter the apartment, and it feels weird. I feel my feet slowing and come to a standstill just inside the doorway.

  “You okay?” Denham asks, his voice filled with concern.

  “Yes, I’m … just trying to remember. I … I remember coming back into this room but I don’t remember anything else. I should remember, shouldn’t I?”

  “Your memory might just come back to you, Ari. If it doesn’t, well then we just draw a line through it and move forward. No use dwelling over something we can’t do anything about.”

  “You’re right.” I shrug. “If I can’t remember, I can’t remember. That’s it,” I say more positively than before. I have wasted so much time looking back and thinking how different things could be that I never learned to look forward, and change things for the better.

  Denham goes straight to the bathroom and I hear him moving things around. I call out, “Could I have a bath instead?”

  He pops his head around the door. “Sure thing,” he says with a wink.

  I hear the bath start to run, and I strip off my tee and shorts and wrap up in my robe. I sit on the edge of the bed and brush out my tangled hair being careful to avoid the huge lump on the back of my head. While I’m teasing through the ends, I admire the three roses in the vase on the nightstand. They have such delicate petals and one looks to be wilting slightly. I recognize this as being the one from our first date as it was slightly pinker in color. The other two are a deeper red, but no less beautiful.

  “You need a hand?” Denham asks from the doorway.

  “No. Thank you I think I’ve got all the tangles out,” I say, catching a rogue knot and wincing a little.

  “Here, let me do that,” he says, sitting behind me and gently brushing my hair until it’s smooth.

  “You know, when she was about six, my sister Tara used to say she had to brush her hair two hundred strokes a day to make it shine. She always counted until she couldn’t count any further.” He speaks with such affection in his voice, and I love the fact that he’s so fond of his family. Being an only child, I have no idea what it would have been like growing up with siblings, but I think I would have liked it.

  “She didn’t usually count much past one hundred before she was yawning and falling asleep in my arms. She never knew if I finished brushing to two hundred strokes or not but she went to bed with such a smile on her face to think her hair would be shiny because of it, that it made me want to do it all the more.”

  “Did you brush her hair two hundred strokes?”

  “Yes,” he chuckles, “every night.”

  “You’re a big softie,” I state.

  “Come on, your bath will be run …” he says, ignoring my statement as he hops off the bed and helps me stand. I walk in front of him into the bathroom and he smacks my ass with the back of the hairbrush. It sounds louder than it feels but I yelp all the same. “That’s for calling me soft.” He smirks and shakes his head “I’ll show you I’m not soft, just you wait.” I love this playful side of him.

  “I’ll look forward to it, Mr. King,” I reply seductively, undoing my robe and dropping it in a puddle at my feet, so he just has a view from behind.

  I just about catch a glimpse of his face as his eyes widen, and his nostrils flare before I go to the bathroom and immerse myself up to my neck in the bubble topped water. He follows very closely behind, dropping his cargo pants and throwing them into a heap in the corner.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, shocked.

  “I’m bathing with you.”

  “You are?” I don’t know why this perplexes me so much. Maybe because I’ve never had a bath with anyone. It feels so … intimate. Not that we haven’t been intimate with each other before now, but it just feels so different. I imagine what it was like growing up in Denham’s house. He, Spike and Tara all carry a confidence about them and I would imagine they all shared the same bath water, and peed with the bathroom door open. Comfortable within themselves and each other. The only time I’ve been naked with or around anyone it’s been sexual and even then I’d get dressed after and there would always have been a layer of clothing replaced between us. Denham seems comfortable with his body, with or without clothes, and rightly so. He is honed and toned, but not so much that you lose the softness of his skin and I wonder if he got two people’s share of gorgeous when he was created.

  When he walks behind the tub, I scoot forward to make room for him and he slides in behind me. His legs open out either side of my body and he guides me back into him with his hands on my hips. I lay back on his chest, with his chin on my shoulder and his arms wrapped tight around mine, which in turn are folded across my body. He nuzzles his head into me letting out a big sigh and placing a lingering kiss when my neck meets my shoulder.

  We sit immersed in the huge tub, surrounded by bubbles and each other, and it feels like we are the only people that exist. I want us to be the only people that exist. No cares or troubles, just us. Uncomplicated moments like this without the stresses or strains that seem to plague our everyday lives.

  “What are you thinking?” Denham asks softly.

  “Nothing, really. Just enjoying this, us, here.”

  He rewards my answer with open-mouthed kisses along my shoulder and up my neck. His breath tickles my ear and I just about stop the shiver that starts up in my toes.

  “Ari?” he questions.

  “Yes.”

  “You know I’ll always protect you, right?”

  “Yes,” I answer. It’s the easiest answer I’ve ever given. I have no idea how I know this, I just do. It remains one of life’s mysteries like, why is the grass green? It’s green, just because it is. And this, whatever this is, is no different.

  “You trust me?”

  “Yes, I trust you,” I answer with a smile. His voice sounds unsure and for once it’s me with the certain answers and him seeking the reassurance. His arms tighten around me and I suck in a breath through my teeth when he squeezes my ribs just a little too much.

  “Shit,” he hisses “Ari, I’m sorry, I didn’t think.” Denham quickly drops his hold on me and braces his arms either side of the tub. I can’t help it, but I start to laugh. It’s the first time I’ve properly laughed in a few days and although my aching bones protest, if feels good to let the laughter move through my body. I sit forward and turn my head to look over my shoulder at Denham. He is looking at me with a very puzzled expression, and I see the infectious laughter is tugging at the corners of his lips. “Arianna. What on earth is so funny?” he asks.

  “You!” I say, around the laughter, “Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t mean you’re funny, you’re not, I mean I’m not laughing at you … It’s just—”

  He raises his brow at the nonsense spilling from my lips.

  I take a deep breath and calm my h
ysteria, “I’m sorry. You’re so sweet to me …”

  He lets himself rest against the back of the tub, one arm rests along the rim and he rubs his forehead with the other. “Okay, okay, I’m finished.”

  “Finished laughing at me?” he says with a smirk. “Or finished your hysterics?”

  “Both,” I blurt. “I mean, I wasn’t laughing at you!”

  I bury my head in my hands, still chuckling, and knowing he isn’t really mad with me. This is what I love. The playfulness between us, which comes so naturally, and makes the air around me feel lighter. I scoot forward a little more, allowing me enough room to turn and face Denham.

  I turn carefully, and it doesn’t hurt my ribs as much as I thought it might have which reinforces that I’m just bruised, and it’ll only take a few days to heal. When I’ve turned around fully, I look up. Denham’s hand is outstretched just in front of my face at eye level. He has his palm full of bubbles, and his head dipped with a wicked gleam in his eye. I don’t have any time to react as it takes me a couple of seconds to take it in. He blows hard and the bubbles cover my face, making me jump and squeal. I push my hands into the deep water in front of me to move backwards fast, but all it does is create a wave of water, which hits Denham’s chest and splashes up into his face. He gasps and when his eyes meet mine he raises a brow and grins. He leans forward ever so slowly, his hands rest on the bottom of the bath and he pushes himself up onto his feet so he’s crouching like an animal that’s about to stalk his prey. My eyes widen, locked with his. My breath hitches. His body is covered in a layer of silky bubbles and all of a sudden there’s a familiar crackle in the air, and it’s not so playful anymore. It’s carnal.

  He settles his knees on either side of my thighs, trapping me underneath him, and his eyes don’t leave mine the whole time he’s moving.

  As his chest moves forward, I move back as far as the tub will allow until I have my back pressed to the marble, and Denham has his chest pressed to mine.

  His head dips, and he kisses a path from my neck, along my collarbone.

  “Now that I have you all soapy and wet in the tub, what am I going to do with you?” Denham whispers into my skin.

  He trails his fingers from my shoulder, down my chest and pushes the bubbles aside that have clung to my skin and I let my head fall back and rest on the edge of the rolled top of the tub. He brushes his fingertips slowly over my bruised ribs, then inhales a sharp intake of breath. “Fuck … Ari …”

  I snap my head up to look at him, as his whole face changes from turned on to worried.

  “What?” I ask, confused.

  “Your ribs … Look at your fucking ribs,” he says scraping his wet hands through his hair.

  I glance down and sure enough, there’s a deep, vicious looking bruise the size of my hand, spanning the side of my ribs. I knew they were sore but until now I hadn’t even thought to look at my bare skin.

  Denham gets to his feet and gets out of the tub. He wraps a towel around his waist and although I don’t miss his obvious erection, he ignores my glances.

  “Hey, where are you going?” I call out to him.

  “I’m getting out, I’ll wait right here until you’re out, then I need to get back and get dressed,” he says, muttering more to himself with a deep frown marring his face.

  “Denham.”

  “I won’t be far, just shout when you’re done.”

  “Denham,” I say, more forcefully this time and he looks up at me. “I’m not broken.”

  He glances down, staring at a spot on the floor, anywhere but me. When he looks up and catches my eye he sighs, “No, Ari. But you are bruised.”

  “Then be gentle with me,” I answer seductively.

  “Ari …” he warns.

  “What? You can’t be gentle?”

  “I’m worried I’ll hurt you,” he says softly.

  “I know you won’t,” I answer him with the utmost certainty.

  His eyes roam my body, lingering on every curve that he can see above the water. His exploration stops at my ribs and he frowns.

  I dip my palm into the water, and pick up a handful of bubbles. I gently smear them across my skin, covering the bruising in the hope that if he can’t see it, he’ll at least be able to push back the feeling that I’m damaged, even just for a short while. As I move my hand, my fingers skim my nipple and it hardens underneath the soft white bubbles that are left behind.

  “Are you purposefully making it difficult for me to say no to you, Ari?”

  “Yes,” I answer simply. “I want you, and if you say no to me, well … I may be a while longer in here than it takes to wash my hair.”

  The confidence he fills me with, possibly teamed with whatever painkillers I’m on right now, makes me braver than I’ve been before. The fire that he has lit, is well and truly burning, and the feeling of desire consumes me with every heated look he gives me or his touch on my skin.

  I hold his gaze, and pull my bottom lip between my teeth before slipping my hand beneath the surface of the bubbles, and between my legs. I’m nervous. But, I’m also beyond turned on, and I can see from the outline of Denham’s towel, he is too. It’s not that I’ve never touched myself before. I have. But, I’ve never done it in front of someone. I’ve never wanted to, until now. My index finger slides across my sensitive clit, and that initial touch forces a jolt of sensation through my body. A soft moan leaves my lips as I slowly work in small, gentle circles, building the pressure and intensity. Denham’s eyes have only left mine to follow the path of my hand but his voyeurism is hindered by the layers of soft white bubbles.

  “Stunner … “

  “Yes,” I answer breathlessly.

  “You need to stop that.”

  I smile at him seductively, quirking a brow in challenge, before I close my eyes and let my fingers move across my slick flesh. My breaths start to become faster and shallower. I hear Denham’s towel drop to the floor and his footsteps come closer to me. My skin prickles with anticipation.

  “You trying to show me you don’t need me, Stunner?”

  I open my eyes to find him gloriously naked, and standing right next to the tub with his hands braced on the edge.

  “Mmm hmm,” I answer before taking my time to look him up and down as he did me. I could look at him all day. I want to kiss every ripple, every dip in his tan flesh.

  “Oh, I have no doubt you can get yourself off, but I’m going to show you how good it feels to have me do it.”

  I groan at his words and my tongue snakes out to skim my lip. He leans forward plunging his hand through the surface of the water and pushing my fingers out of the way. His index finger is longer, wider and rougher than mine, and the difference in sensation pushes my arousal up a gear.

  He kneels next to the bath tub and levels his eyes to mine. I watch his pupils react as his hand moves deeper. He pushes a finger inside of me, and I gasp. Not because it’s painful, it doesn’t hurt. He’s gentle but assured at the same time, and although this isn’t the first time someone has touched me like this, it feels different. It’s a consuming arousal that travels through my body and forces a reaction from all of my senses with the smallest of movements. When he gently crooks his finger towards the front of my stomach, I push my hips forward and let out a cry. Denham reacts by crashing his mouth to mine. He moans a deep throaty moan, and drags my bottom lip between his teeth. His finger pushes in and out of me, curling and sending sparks through my whole body.

  “Arianna.”

  “Yes,” I pant. My body is being worked into such a frenzy that although I’m not moving, the sensations are making me breathless.

  “Tell me what you want.”

  “I want you,” I say, as I sit upright, holding his gaze and pushing myself to my knees. He grumbles a little at having to lose contact with me but raises himself to standing, and bends at the waist, bracing his hand on the side of the tub, meeting me at eye level and watching me with curiosity etched across his face.

  �
��I want us,” I whisper and reach up with my hands to drag my nails gently down his thighs. He shivers and pushes his hips forward involuntarily.

  The way his eyes are heavy with lust, and his body is straining to keep control, makes me want him in every way possible. I know he’ll try and be gentle with me after seeing my bruising and once again I find myself thinking up ways I can convince him that I’m not broken. I want him slow and sensual. I want him fast and hard. I want him every way imaginable.

  I push my hands across his skin and splay my palms across his ass. When I pull forward gently, he silently protests by pushing against me with equal pressure. When I dig my fingers into his flesh, he chuckles.

  “I know what you’re doing,” he warns.

  “Then you’ll know I’m about to do this—”

  I pull his ass forward as far as I can without throwing him off balance, and his hands leave the tub so he can stand up straight. I take his cock in my hand and stroke firmly from tip to base and back again. I wet my lips with my tongue, and lean forward to take him in my mouth. When he hisses in a breath and mutters “Fuck.” I know I’ve got him. I close my lips over him and swirl my tongue around. He swells in my mouth, and I can tell it’s taking every ounce of his composure not to thrust his hips. I don’t want him to be gentle with me. I don’t want to be treated with fragility. I take him deeper into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat, and I moan with determination.

  “Ari, you can’t … oh fuck, that feels so fucking good,” he groans, and while his muscles are taut, I feel him relax knowing he can’t hurt me this way.

  His hands tangle in my hair, gently at first but with more tension as I move faster, his breaths become more rapid and he loses a little of his composure. This is what I want. I want him undone.

  I want uninhibited, carnal, explosive exchanges. I want us to explore each other’s bodies as if it were the first time and neither of us have fear nor false expectations. He makes me want to push forward, to do all these things with him. I just need to make him see that he doesn’t need to be so cautious. Slowly but surely, I’m doing it. And when the time comes that we are both 100 percent on that level … Oh my god, it’s going to be explosive.