Page 14 of Ready For His Rule

Worth it.

The conclusion smacked him even before she did. Damn good thing, since he didn’t expect or see the force of her sudden embrace.

Or maybe it wasn’t such a good thing.

Surprises and he had never been on the best of terms, even when they were “good” ones. You want too much, Keoni. Hell. If he had a buck for every time Mom had repeated the mantra to him… Because you give so much, keikikane. But expecting the same in return, it shall only bring you pain.

So he’d grown up and learned how to control the surprises. All of them.

Until Tracy Rhodes.

Who gripped his neck with unbridled trust. Who pressed herself against him with fervent intention. Who flooded his nostrils with the scent of her citrus shampoo, along with a perfume blended of ginger, jasmine—and coffee. Like he needed a damn drop of the stuff, after the adrenaline spiking his blood, the alarm twitching his muscles, and the reaction taunting his instincts.

Fight or flight? Evaluate the adversary. Assess the risk. Then retreat or retaliate. Contain or exterminate.

What if the answer was neither?

What the fuck did he do when the answer was as unpredictable as her—as all the incredible effects she had on his system? When all he could do was lift a stupid hand to the middle of her back, returning her grateful grip as if he patted a damn dog, when he craved a lot more.

So much more…

You like it when I pull your hair like that, kitten?

Yes, Sir. Thank you.

You want me to pull on other things, too? Like these pretty nipples?

Ohhhh yes, Sir!

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Saved by the beeping security gate.

As the Bellagio’s ornate gates swung in for the car, Franz dropped his hand and eased his body back. The woman fitted so perfectly to him, from the waist up anyway, relaxed her hold too.

But not all the way.

She stayed close enough for him to catch the silver flecks in her pupils. To watch the dimples-inside-the-dimples appear beside her expressive lips. To stifle a groan as those lips parted, displaying a smile that somehow bridged the gap between girl and woman. Between friend and—

What?

Did he want to know?

Hell fucking yes.

No, goddammit. No.

“Thank you.” Magically, her two words saved him from that Purgatory. They were soft but casual, dragging them solidly back into the friend zone. For her strength, he was tempted to thank her.

“You’re welcome,” he said instead—finishing with an arched brow of warning. “I can’t guarantee you’ll get a full hour, though. Sol won’t believe you took that long to change your clothes.”

“What? A gal can’t linger?”

A multitude of things came to mind as a comeback to that—but not a damn one that would help either of them. He simply let his gaze narrow enough to show her that if she “lingered” anywhere in his vicinity, it wouldn’t be to primp for an arena of up-and-coming entrepreneurs. It’d be for his eyes—and cock—alone.

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