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She shakes her head. “No, I was gonna order a ride.” I finally pull my gaze away from King to watch her check her phone for the time. “Should probably do that now.”
“No.” King lifts his own phone from his pocket and presses it to his ear. We all wait as he starts speaking. “Bring a car around. You’re driving my sister home. Now.” Then he ends the call.
Val and I look at each other, and she rolls her eyes at his heavy-handedness. But I feel a surge of indignance, we didn’t say we were done.
“We––” I start to argue but King snaps his fingers.
Snaps. His. Fingers.
My lungs heave.
Holy hell, I felt that snap in my core.
I think Val laughs, but my ears are too full of buzzing desire to hear anything.
Val rises from her chair, and my balance wavers but I manage to get up and give her a quick hug goodbye.
“I’ll call ya later,” she says, even though we haven’t exchanged numbers. And I don’t have a phone.
King follows her across the studio, and I expect him to walk her all the way out of the house, but he stops there. And when Val steps through the door, King closes it behind her.
Trapping us in here alone.
He turns back to face me. And standing like this, a room apart, it doesn’t dull the pull I feel toward him. I can feel the crackle of desire like a lightning bolt between us. Like there’s something connecting my chest to his. A tangible string I swear I could touch if I tried.
King reaches out to the side and flips off the final light switch. Snuffing out the last source of the light from within the room.
I can still see him, the glow coming through the windows from outside, enough for me to see him stalking toward me.
My chest is heaving.
I want this.
I want this so bad.
King stops a foot away. Staring down at me. Eyes molten in the low light.
I’m too busy staring back to see his hands move. But then they’re gripping the hem of my t-shirt, pulling it up over my head.
My arms lift, and I let him take it off.
A calloused hand presses against my chest, dragging down, between my breasts, over my bra, down my stomach, to the top band of my jean shorts.
His fingers curl around the denim, making his knuckles press into the softness of my belly.
“I’m gonna keep coming inside of you. So if you don’t want a herd of kids just yet, you better find some birth control.”
The breath leaves my lungs.
That should probably make me mad.
And if he’d asked before our first time, I’d have told him I’m set for the next two and a half years.
But he didn’t ask. And when his fingers start to work on the button and fly of my shorts, the last thing I’m feeling is talkative.
CHAPTER48
King
