Chapter Thirty-Four 

 

 

I wake the next morning to a steady stream of sunlight pouring over me, illuminating the back of my eyelids.  Unable to stay submerged any longer, my lashes flutter and I blink, attempting to find my bearings.  For a sliver of time, I don’t remember where I am.  I’m surrounded by dark blue walls and heavy white furniture.  There’s nothing familiar about this space.  Panic sweeps over me as the memories from yesterday come rushing back.   I remember throwing a bag in the SUV and taking off for the Rothchild family beach house in Door County. 

This is Kingsley’s room and I’m in his bed.  I glance at the other side of the mattress as the sound of crashing waves fills my ears. 

Empty. 

It couldn’t have been a dream, right? 

My fingers brush across my nipples, and a dull ache flares to life before settling between my thighs. 

Definitely not a dream. 

Is he still here?  Or did he take off? 

I roll from the bed and pause as my gaze lands on the black suitcase parked next to mine.  Relief settles in my chest at the knowledge that he didn’t leave.  Still naked, I walk to my bag and rummage through the contents before grabbing my robe.  With the silky material belted securely around my body, I go in search of him, moving steadily through the house, peeking in all the rooms.  Even though there’s an air of stillness to the place, I sense his presence and know he’s near. 

It's a peculiar sensation to be so connected to another human being other than Austin.  It should disturb me.  

On bare feet, I pad through the first-floor hallway.  I don’t stop to study the pictures that line the walls before arriving in the spacious kitchen.  Splashes of gray and blue are everywhere.  There is an ocean of white granite counters, dark hardwoods, and stainless-steel appliances.  My gaze settles on a red mug sitting next to a fancy machine that looks like something you would find in a high-end coffee shop.  I gravitate to the mug before picking it up and staring at the dark brew inside.  Steam rises as I lift it to my lips and take a tentative sip.  A sigh of pleasure escapes as the first jolt of much-needed caffeine hits my system.  As I take another drink, my gaze travels around the adjoining family room, absorbing all the little details I was too upset to notice yesterday.  The white shiplap walls, cozy white couches with fluffy indigo pillows that are the identical shade as the curtains.   

The sliding glass door that leads outside has been left open, allowing the breeze to waft through the kitchen.  With my mug in hand, I gravitate toward the sprawling deck that stretches across the width of the house and faces the water.  It’s a million-dollar view that’s worth every penny. 

With nervous fingers, I push open the screen door and step outside.  Kingsley is parked at a table, wearing nothing more than black boxer briefs.  His muscular legs are stretched out as his heels rest on the chair across from him.  In silence, he surveys the deep blue water as the wind whips through his hair, ruffling it.  I’m so tempted to reach out and stroke my fingers through the dark strands.  To push them away from his face.  Every bit of flesh on display is a deep sun-kissed color from months spent outside.  There aren’t any visible T-shirt lines in sight.  Even in repose, his muscles are sharp and defined as if they’ve been chiseled from marble. 

A punch of arousal hits me in the gut before sinking lower. 

Kingsley picks up the mug from the table and raises it to his lips before taking a sip and setting it down again.  Only then do his eyes flick to mine.  “How did you sleep?” 

I blink. 

I ran away because I’m now promised to him in marriage and that’s all he has to say? 

A gurgle of laughter falls from my lips as I shake my head at the absurdity of the situation we now find ourselves in.  A crooked smile lifts his lips and in that moment, he resembles the boy I met on this very beach and it pains my heart.  Does that boy even exist? 

“Fine,” I say, sweeping away those thoughts.  I’m unwilling to admit just how well I slept in his arms. 

He nods but doesn’t ask any more questions.  Soundlessly, I search his gaze, surprised to see the somberness that now fills it. 

Arrogance. 

Anger. 

Hatred. 

Lust. 

I’ve experienced a range of emotions from him, but never that one. 

What does it mean? 

Kingsley rips his gaze from mine before his attention is drawn to the water.  “I thought we could take the boat out today,” he pauses before tacking on, “and talk.” 

I busy my fingers by taking another sip of coffee before setting the mug on the table and nodding, surprised by how much the thought of spending time alone with him on the lake pleases me.  “All right.” 

He rises from his chair, straightening to his full height.  Not wanting him to notice my interest, I avert my gaze.  It isn’t long before my focus is pulled back to him.  He has a gorgeous body and I’m fascinated by it.  The need to explore him pounds through me.  

“We can shower and go.”  His voice grows deeper.  “We’ll spend the entire day on the water, if that’s what you want.” 

I clear my throat and try to concentrate on the conversation, but it’s difficult.  “Okay.” 

My breath catches when he steps closer, invading my personal space.  It happens so quickly that I remain rooted in place, unable to move as he lowers his mouth to my ear. 

“You asked me last night for time and I’m trying to give it to you, but when you stand there, eating me up with your eyes, you make it awfully difficult.”  He pulls back enough for his gaze to fasten on mine.  “Now, are you ready to go inside?” 

“Yes.”  My voice comes out sounding more like a squeak. 

Kingsley snakes his arm around my waist, tugging me through the sliding door until we’re once again in the luxuriously appointed living area.  I try to distract myself from the need that has throbbed to life between my thighs by taking in all the finishing touches.  The silver candlesticks on the glass end table.  The stacked stone fireplace that reaches the ceiling.  This might be a beach house, but my guess is that a professional interior designer decorated it.  The color schemes, the furniture, the decor.  It all flows perfectly.  As we walk toward the kitchen, my gaze falls on a family photo framed in silver on the credenza. 

My footsteps falter as I inspect the picture. 

“What’s wrong?” 

I glance from the framed photo to Kingsley.  “Who’s the girl with you?”  She looks like a female version of him.  Same mahogany-colored hair and eyes.  Same high cheekbones and smile. 

“That’s Harlow, my younger sister.” 

My head whips toward him as my eyes widen.  “You have a sister?”  I had assumed Kingsley was an only child.  My gaze settles on the other female in the photo.  A pretty blonde.  Is that his mother?  It’s not the same woman who answered the door when I tried to say goodbye in June. 

“Yup.”  One corner of his mouth hitches.  “Guess you need to ask more questions.” 

Huh.  Maybe I do.  My mind cartwheels as I process this new bit of information.  Before I know it, we’re back in the same place I woke up this morning. 

He nods toward the adjoining room.  “Why don’t you start the shower.” 

Not questioning the instruction, I step into the bathroom.  It’s as luxurious as the rest of the house.  Clearly no expense was spared when they remodeled.  I walk inside the gray-tiled marble shower that’s spacious enough for four people and turn the handle before moving back and waiting for the glass enclosure to steam.  With a flick of my fingers, the belt loosens from around my waist and the silky robe slips off my shoulders before puddling on the floor.  I test the water with my fingers before shifting to stand under the hot spray.  My eyelids drift shut as water rains down on me from above as well as from the jets that line the interior walls.  

Mmm, that feels so good. 

As my muscles loosen, Kingsley steps into the shower with me. 

“What are you doing?”  My eyes fly open and I’m helpless to stop my gaze from wandering over his naked form.  Holy hell, but he’s beautiful.  Everything about him is thick and muscular. 

Everything. 

“Showering.”  A devilish smile curves his lips as he grabs the bottle of liquid soap, squirting a dollop onto his palm before rubbing his hands together.  He steps behind me, standing so close that his erection nudges my ass cheeks.  My breath catches when his arms slide around my ribs, his soapy hands cupping my breasts, lathering them up.  He kneads the soft flesh, pulling at the nipples until they stiffen beneath his fingers. 

“You asked me to give you time, and I will,” he whispers against my ear.  “But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop touching you.  What it means is that you don’t get my cock until you’re mine.” 

A groan slides from my parted lips as my head lolls back, resting against the solid wall of his chest.  It doesn’t take long for his hands to glide lower and for me to keen out an orgasm.