by JB Salsbury
“We’ll be back in a few,” Kingston says to the driver, prompting me to scootch out of my seat.
His long legs eat up the stairs, and he gets to the door before me.
I stop before I hit the landing. “I live with my parents,” I blurt.
He casually tilts his head. “Okay. Are they here now?”
“No.” I fumble with my keys. “They only live here part-time.”
“Cool.” He rocks back on his heels, and his gaze swings up and down the street. “So… are we going in?”
“Yes,” I say and scramble up the remaining steps to the door. My face is hot and my palms sweaty as I unlock it and push into the foyer. I hit the code on the alarm panel that is hidden behind a small painting that my mom paid way too much money for. “I should’ve told you sooner,” I say and drop my purse on the mid-century modern sideboard.
He doesn’t look around the space, doesn’t gawk at the expensive fixtures, but keeps his eyes on me. “Are you going to show me your room?”
I should’ve expected he’d be comfortable around the auspicious show of wealth—like acknowledges like. But for some reason, I feel… ashamed.
Ashamed that I still live with my parents. Embarrassed for the luxury when so many others go without their basic needs. I feel stuck between worlds—the life of entitlement I lived before and the one I’m living now. A new life with new challenges and no map to help me navigate.
He follows me up the stairs to my room on the second floor.
I flip on the light, and nerves attack my stomach as he peruses the space. Hands in his pockets, he moves from my dresser to my bookshelf, studying my things.
“I’m going to take a quick shower.” I grab clean clothes to change into.
“Take your time,” he says absently while studying framed photos of me on the beach with my brother.
I close myself into the bathroom and lock the door. Having Kingston in my private space isn’t what has me on edge. The insight into my past and the questions he may ask are what I’m worried about.
I’m going to have to tell him my story eventually.
But even three years and a ton of psychotherapy later, I hate talking about it.
I pile my hair on my head and shower quickly. Dressed in a soft pair of joggers and a tank top, I step out of the bathroom to find Kingston sitting at the foot of my bed. My breath catches when I see what he’s holding in his hand.
“My pointe shoes.”
His smile is a little sad, but I can’t imagine why. He turns the tattered silk shoes in his hand.
“I—” my voice cracks. I clear my throat. “I used to dance ballet.”
He makes a humming noise, then looks up at me, and a million emotions race across his eyes. “Used to.”
“I quit. A few years back.”
He narrows his gaze. “You don’t strike me as a quitter.”
“I’m not.” My own heartbeat grows loud in my ears.
He shrugs. “Okay.”
I take the shoes from his hands and pull open a drawer to stuff them inside.
“You think you’ll ever take it back up?”
With my back to him, I close my eyes and breathe through the chest cramp that always accompanies talks of what I lost.
Be casual. Play it off.
I practice a smile, and once I feel that smile, I turn around. “Anything’s possible, right? I’m starving. Is it too early to grab dinner?” I shove pajamas and a sweatshirt into my bag. “We should hit up the Vietnamese place on Third. I’m craving pho.” I head for the door and hit the lights. “Have you been there—”
His arm wraps around my middle. The heat of his body hits my back, and his lips brush against my ear. “You don’t have to hide from me.”
I put my hand over his, against my stomach. “Who says I’m hiding?”
“Bee—”
“There are some things I’m not ready to talk about.”
His breath is hot against my skin. He runs his lips along my neck and drops a kiss on my shoulder. “I know.” He continues to kiss up my neck to my jaw with soft, deliberate presses of his lips. He ends at my earlobe. “Relax.”
I close my eyes and release the tension in my shoulders. He continues to paint my shoulder and neck in worshipful kisses until my whole body throbs, and my legs feel like Jell-O.
“Kingston?”
I feel his smile against my skin. “Yeah?”
“Kiss me.”
He interweaves our fingers and spins me around. My back hits the wall, and his mouth comes down on mine. With powerful lips and a wicked tongue, he sucks and nips and pulls a moan from my throat. His hand slides up my shirt, over my bra, and he palms my breast. His thumb runs circles over my nipple, the barrier of the fabric between creating a brutal tease.
“You can trust me with your past,” he whispers against my mouth.
His words wrap around my ribs and squeeze. The mention of my life before, of who I was, is a cold wash to my heated flesh.
I push the thoughts away and reach for the waistline of his pants. My fingertips brush the hard, blunt head of his erection. He hisses at the contact and rocks against my hand.
“You’re trying to distract me.” He buries his face in my neck and unfastens his pants.
I grip him in my fist.
“It’s working.” He pulls a foil packet from his pocket and rips it open with his teeth. I roll the condom on and drop my pants. I kick the fabric off one leg, then hook my ankle around his hip.
“So fucking sexy,” he growls when he sinks two fingers inside. Testing. Tempting.
I guide him closer, reaching for what I want most. Him. Thick and long, filling me. Possessing me. Holding my mind to the present.
He probs. Glides. Works his way inside. He grips my ass and lifts me higher, my back to the wall, pinning me in place with his hips. His kiss is desperate. Inflamed. As if he somehow knows I need his violence. I let him in—to my home, my bedroom, to who I was. I want to slam the shutters down, hide what he might see, avoid the questions he’s compelled to ask. And for now, he lets me.
“Need to move.” He turns us around, and we fall to the bed. With one hand braced by my head, he tilts his hips in such a way that I see stars dance before my eyes. “You like that?”
I dig my heels into the bed, open wider, and arch my back to deepen the—oh my!
He doesn’t let up. The sensation builds. He picks up the pace. I grip his shoulders and rake my nails across his skin.
“Fuck, yeah.” His hips piston forward.
The intensity in his eyes is captivating. His gaze penetrates and reads me in a way that makes me feel shy. Vulnerable. I turn my head only to have him catch my jaw. His warm palm on my cheek, long fingers in my hair, he holds my eyes to his.
Don’t hide from me.
He doesn’t say the words, I only hear them in my head.
“I won’t,” I say softly.
I hold his gaze. Fiery hazel eyes warm with acceptance pour over me. I melt around them, around him.
“That’s it, baby.” He runs his thumb along my lips. “Stay with me.”
“I’m here.” And I am. Mind, body, soul, and most dangerously, heart.
I shove up on an elbow and claim his mouth. He groans against my tongue and the vibration travels through me.
With only a seconds warning, my release surges. I gasp against his lips. He chases my mouth and kisses me deeper. Harder. A divine invasion that gives more than it takes.
His muscles tense. His hips flex, freeze, and he shudders against me. A soft sigh drops from his lips just as he lowers his weight on top of me. Our kiss slows, from frantic to lazy, we glide gently back to earth. We stay like this, connected, and he takes his time kissing my neck, jaw, and cheek. He drags his lips along my skin, causing goosebumps to jump on my arms. Back and forth, up and down, he bathes my skin in worshipful kisses. “Thank you for letting me in.” There’s no humor in his tone, no hint of innuendo. Only a sincere gratitude and reverence
.
This was so much more than sex. More than two bodies coming together to satisfy a physical need.
What we did felt a lot heavier and had a connectivity that bound more than our bodies. We’ve crossed the barrier of casually dating into more complicated waters.
My skin still tingles along my neck and face where he spent so much time kissing me. I run my fingertips along the tender skin and realize he kissed along the full length of my scars.
“Kingston, I—” My stomach rumbles with hunger.
He props himself on his elbows and looks down my body. “Shit, I’m sorry. You said you were hungry, and I attacked you when I should’ve fed you.”
I save my heavy thoughts for later and run my hands through his hair. I push back the long pieces that fell forward into his face. “It’s not all your fault. I was an equal participant in the attack.”
He kisses me quickly and then slides off me. “Don’t move.” He ducks into my bathroom, and I hear the toilet flush and the faucet run.
When he comes back, he helps me slip on my panties and pants and then gives me a hand to pull me off the bed.
“You good?”
My eyes feel dreamy and my head light as my post-orgasm bliss wars with my thoughts. But I’m good. “So good.”
He looks at me, his brows slanted as if he’s concentrating hard. With a quick nod, he grabs my hand. “We’re getting pho to go.” He grabs my bag and drags me from the room.
I grin. “Why the hurry?”
He whirls around halfway down the stairs, his face level with mine. “Because you’re looking at me like you want to fall back into bed, and I’m fine with that, but I want to feed you first.”
He scoops me into his arms, and I laugh as he rushes us out the door and into the waiting car.
Twenty-Three
Gabriella
* * *
“Don’t leave.” Overnight Kingston has mastered the art of the pout.
When we got back to his place last night, he revealed his big surprise. He’d cleaned out a section of his closet for me, a drawer and entire cabinet in his bathroom, and a section of his fridge, and he bought a gaming system. He admitted he might never beat me in fishing, but he was sure he could take me down in Fashion Designer and Runway Fashion Week. He was right.
We kissed on his couch until after midnight, and he carried me to his bed, where we spent the rest of our night tangled together beneath the sheets.
Sadly, all good things must come to an end, and I’ve been trying to get out the door for work since eight o’clock this morning. He persuaded me to stay by bribing me with dirty sex and orgasms. He blackmailed me with coffee. Now out of options, he’s resorted to pouting.
“I would stay if I could, but I have to work.” I slip on my shoes and grab my bag.
“Leave your stuff here. I’ll wash it and put it in your drawers.” He looks so pathetic and sexy as he sits shirtless at the edge of his bed, his lower lip out and making puppy dog eyes.
“Stop it. You’re making it impossible to leave.” I lean down and kiss that lower lip. “And I already told you a million times, I’m not moving in with you.”
“Ugh…” he drops his head back. “Fine.”
Such a baby. “I’ll call you later.”
He holds my neck in place and kisses me, this time slipping his tongue between my lips.
“Nope.” I pull away. “I know what you’re doing.”
“Dammit!”
“I’m leaving.” I turn on my heel and head for the hallway.
“Wait, Bee. Hold up.” He scampers from the bed and stands in front of me.
“This better be important. I’m already late.”
“It is.” He studies my face, shifts from one foot to the other, and licks his lips nervously. “I want to try something.”
“You’re impossible!”
“Please, just one thing, and I swear I’ll leave you alone, okay?”
The seriousness in his eyes makes my stomach tumble. Whatever he wants to try, I’m bound to enjoy it. I just can’t enjoy it too much if I’m going to make it to work on time.
He takes a step closer. His hands slide around the back of my neck and into the hair at my nape. He brings his forehead to mine, but his eyes remain open and on mine. “Bee…” He swallows. The hazel in his eyes looks almost yellow this close up. “I love you.”
The air in my lungs leaves on a burst.
He sucks in a breath at the same time, then grins. “Yeah,” he says, almost as if he’s talking to himself. “I love you.” He presses his lips to my forehead and then pulls back enough to see my face, all while keeping his hold at my nape. “Fuck, that feels good to get out,” he says, chuckling. “I fucking love you, Bee. I am in love with you.” His smile grows even wider. “I didn’t know what it would feel like to say it—hey, are you okay? You’re turning a funny color.” He frowns, and his eyes turn panicked. “Breathe, Gabriella!”
I suck in a gasping breath.
He pulls me against his chest. “Are you trying to kill me?” His heartbeat kicks triple-time against my cheek. “What the hell?”
“Sorry, I think I left my body for a minute there.”
He sighs and collapses not only against me but also over me. “I anticipated some kind of response, but you leaving your body was not one of them.”
I hold on to his waistband to help steady myself. “I wasn’t expecting you to say… that.”
“No?” He kisses the top of my head. “You’re not too observant, huh?”
“I’m very observant.” I nuzzle in a little closer.
“And you couldn’t tell that I’m in love with you? I thought after that fourth orgasm—”
“Okay, no need to get graphic.” My face heats against his skin. “Sexual chemistry doesn’t always equate with love. You of all people should know that.”
“Me of all people does know that.” He pulls away and grips my chin to get me to look up at him. “I know what I’m feeling. Don’t doubt that for a second.”
“I—”
“Don’t say it back until you mean it.”
“I was going to say that I might need some time.”
“Take all the time in the world.” He presses a soft kiss against the corners of my mouth. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers against my lips.
We kiss, standing in his hallway, until we’re both breathing hard and are unsteady on our feet.
“My Uber is waiting.”
His expression twists in disapproval. “I really wish you’d let me drive you home. It doesn’t feel right sending the woman I love home in a cab.”
I grin, really liking the way his words make me feel.
“Doesn’t feel right sending you away at all.”
“I’ll text you from the car, and I’ll call you later.”
“Come back over tonight.”
“I have to work.”
“I’ll come to you, then.”
“Kingston.” I press my palm to his chest, and his pulse is quickened. “We’ll figure it out, okay? I’m not going to disappear on you.”
He nods and pulls my hand from his chest to his lips, placing a kiss on the inside of my wrist. “Okay. We’ll talk later.”
“Later.” I turn around to head for the door, and he follows me out to the elevator.
“What?” he says when he hears me giggle. “I can walk you to the street, can’t I?”
“You’re not wearing a shirt.”
“I don’t give a fuck.” He intertwines our fingers together and tugs me onto the elevator. His thumb never stops making passes over my knuckles as if he’s savoring every chance he gets to touch me. “I work today, but you can call me whenever.”
“It’s ten o’clock. Don’t you corporate suits start early?”
He shrugs. “If you weren’t rushing off, I’d spend the whole day in bed with you, corporate suits be damned.”
“You sound whipped, Kingston North.”
He chuckles. The soun
d is deep, dark, and oh so inviting. “More than you know.”
Through the lobby of his building, he gets the attention of both men and women alike. It’s not often a man who looks like he just stepped off the runway walks by topless. Even my Uber driver, Marcos, seems taken aback when he sees Kingston in all his cut-muscled glory greet him at the curb.
“Take care of my woman, Marcos,” Kingston says, then looks down at me. “Get her home safely.”
I meant for the kiss to be quick and chaste, but the moment our lips touch, we fall into each other, and once again, the world around us dissolves.
“Go, or we’ll get arrested for fucking against an Uber,” he growls into my ear.
My body feels alive with electricity, a live wire that he manages to trip with the simplest touch. “I’ll see you later.”
He smirks. “Yeah, you will.” He opens the door for me and leans inside to kiss me one more time before closing it. I watch out the window as we pull away, and he stands there looking like a statue of Spartacus until the car drives out of view.
I’m barely a block away when I get a text from him.
I meant them. All three words.
Kingston
One step off the elevator, and my dad’s assistant, Ms. Vogul, calls my name. She stands quickly from her seat where, judging by her empty coffee mug and banana peel, she’s been sitting for a while.
“What is it?”
“Mr. North needs to see you immediately.” Her eyes are wide as if she’d been worried that she might not be able to carry out her boss’s direct orders. “He told me to grab you as soon as you got here, which Ms. Coleman said should be around eight o’clock.”
“Yeah, well, something came up.” That something being my sexy-as-fuck girlfriend asleep at my side. No way I was leaving the bed before she did. “He’s in his office?”
“Conference room.” She smiles with all teeth as a way of apologizing for having to deliver the bad news.
I knew it was only a matter of time before Coleman ratted me out. She’d threatened me enough, and she doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who doesn’t follow through.
“Got it,” I mumble and head to what is sure to be a humiliating firing.