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“Sorry. I didn’t mean—“
I touched his hand instinctively, and he gave me a wry smile.
“Don’t worry about it. I know it comes across that way. But it’s more than that. A lot more than that. The family business—it’s grown into an empire, and not because of dirty money or
exploitation, but through a lot of hard work and luck and honor.”
I pushed the ice pack away from my face and sat up straight. He wore an expression halfway between shame and determination.
“Honor?” I moved closer to him, until I was tucked under his arm. He moved his arm slightly, like he was going to hold me, but he stopped himself.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “That’s really what it’s about. It’s our family legacy, and I’m the only heir. If I disappear—er, for good—they’ll have no choice but to take the company public. And who knows what a board of directors will do with it? My father always, always pressed upon me the importance of honor and integrity in business.”
I was feeling a bit impressed myself, but I wasn’t wholly convinced. “Jayce seems to think that your plans for the company drift toward the dark side.”
He made a face and waved his free hand. “Jayce is a simple creature. He thinks if he just has enough money, he can save the world. What he doesn’t understand is that the whole game changes once you hit a certain income bracket. Money is liquid, ephemeral—very rarely is it solid. You can’t just buy apartments out from under a billionaire slum lord and turn them into eco-friendly condos with a handshake and a wire transfer.”
“Why not?”
“Like I said, money isn’t solid. It’s more like a language. When billionaires talk, money is chitchat. They don’t need more of it, so they can afford to be stingy. Does that make sense?”
“I think so,” I said slowly. “You have to offer them something that means more than money in order to make a deal.”
He nodded. “Which is why we invest in oil and politics. A major shareholder has more say about where a pipeline goes than an eco-terrorist. A campaign contributor has the politician’s ear more than their constituents. The system is corrupt, sure. But that doesn’t mean that all of the players in it have to be.”
I put my hand on his chest and felt his heart beat. He was as passionate about this as Jayce was about—well, everything. Kingston’s arm tightened around me and sparks flew between us.
“Tell me something,” I murmured.
“Sure.”
“Do you feel the same pull I do?” My voice was getting husky.
“You should already know the answer to that.” His voice was like warm wine. I wanted to drink him.
“Then why have you been so resistant to it?”
He cracked a grin and looked down at me. “Maybe I hate being told what to do.”
“Maybe there are some things you can’t rebel against.”
We were moving closer together, as if drawn by some invisible force. He was pulling me closer and closer until I was practically lying across his chest. Every word we spoke brought our lips closer together. A hot shiver raced down my spine as the memory of our kiss at the pub popped into my head.
“That sounds a lot like you’re telling me what to do,” he whispered.
“You never do what you’re told?”
“Never.”
“Then… don’t kiss me.”
His mouth was hot and firm. I could taste the defiance on his tongue, and it was intoxicating. I breathed in his scent and ran my fingers through his hair as he crushed my body against his and molded my lips with his mouth.
We were still sitting side by side, but our upper bodies were pressed flush together. I needed more than that though—needed more contact. I had only kissed Kingston once before, and kissing him again was like getting a second dose of an incredible, dangerously addictive drug.
Not giving him a chance to push me away, I crawled onto him, straddling his lean hips and keeping my mouth firmly on his. The second I sank down onto his lap, I could feel exactly what our kiss was doing to him, and a thrill of victory and desire raced up my spine.
He wanted this.
