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The men continue to hurl insults and swear words as Kingsley reverses and peels out of the parking lot.
“No way in hell am I leaving the most precious woman in the world with those vile pieces of shit. You’ll stay with me where I can keep you safe.”
Precious? Me?
“I know I’m acting possessed,” Kingsley continues as he winds through traffic. He grips the steering wheel so tightly his fingers turn white. “I can’t… I wouldn’t sleep thinking about you there. I should’ve figured it out sooner. Should’ve ensured you were safe.”
He’s talking more to himself by the end of his thought, and I’m having a hard time accepting that Kingsley-freaking-Bowman thinks I’m precious and worth protecting.
I’m not surprised when we pull into a private, underground parking lot fifteen minutes later. Kingsley helps me out of the car and guides me to the elevator, which of course, leads straight up to his penthouse.
“I’ll give you the tour later,” he says, stepping out of the elevator. “You probably want a warm shower and a change of clothes.”
“Too bad all my clothes are back at my place,” I deadpan.
Kingsley turns to face me, resting his hands on my shoulders as his dark eyes latch onto mine. “Believe it or not, I have clothes here.” I roll my eyes at him, but the serious look never leaves his face. “Let me take care of you,” he murmurs.
“Why?” I whisper.
Kingsley furrows his brow at my question, then slowly slides one from my shoulder to gently cup my face. “I’ll tell you when you get out of the shower.”
I narrow my eyes at him, and Kingsley rewards me with another grin. I could get used to this.
He leads me to one of the three bathrooms, and shows me where the towels are. Kingsley says he’ll have a change of clothes for me right outside the door whenever I’m ready, then heads down the hall, leaving me to my thoughts.
And boy, do I have thoughts.
By the time I step out of the shower and dry off with one of the towels on the heated rack, all my feelings and thoughts have boiled down into one: lust.
Standing naked in Kingsley’s steam-filled bathroom, I can’t deny that everything feels so sensitive, from my warm skin and hardened nipples to my slick, aching pussy. I’ve gone through such an emotional rollercoaster the last two days, from falling apart in Kingsley’s arms to picking out a Christmas tree and having him open up to me about his parents. And now, I can’t deny it any longer.
I want Kingsley Bowman. I want him to be my first everything. I hope he’ll also be my last.
After slipping on the oversized T-shirt Kingsley left outside the door, I attempt to pull on the sweatpants, but they keep slipping off. The shirt is nearly as long as a dress, so I decide to go for it. If he wants me, too, maybe this will give him a hint.
I look at myself in the mirror, wiping away the condensation so I can see my face. Am I doing this? I have no idea how to flirt or how to get a man to kiss me, let alone a gorgeous, muscled, filthy rich and successful man.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I spin on my heel and open the bathroom door. One foot in front of the other, I make my way down the hall and into the living room, the only other place I’ve seen in his huge penthouse.
I get distracted by the gold marble side table with a lovely vase featured in the center.
“Clementine,” Kingsley rasps, drawing my attention toward his voice.
He’s sitting on the couch wearing a black T-shirt stretched across his chest and biceps and a pair of black joggers. His feet are bare, and something about that makes this moment even more intimate.
“Um, hey,” I say softly, more aware than ever that my legs are on display.
His eyes roam up my calves and thighs, pausing on my chest. The strong, powerful man clenches his jaw and flares his nostrils, looking almost angry.
I’m not wearing underwear or a bra, and I feel unbearably vulnerable the longer Kingsley stares at me in silence.“I can go change–”
“Come here, beautiful,” he says, cutting me off.
His voice sounds strained, and the closer I get to him, the more I realize… he likes what he sees.Beautiful?God, I hope he wants me the same way I want him.
I stop in front of Kingsley, who is still sitting on the couch. He holds out his hands, and I place mine there, holding his gaze.
“You’re stunning,” he murmurs, urging me to take another step forward. “I don’t deserve to, but…” Kingsley tugs me closer, settling me in between his spread legs. I’m helpless to do anything but follow his lead. “Can I hold you, Clementine? Can I touch you?”
