Kingpin (Court University 2)

I thought the abs had something to do with it.

Glistening and sweaty, Lance Johnson stood at my door in a pair of gray running shorts hung so low I could have easily seen dick cleavage if he stood at the right angle. He was also shirtless, his shining pecs heaving with breath while he gripped my door frame in a pair of red running shoes. He looked around me. “Shit. You okay?”

Completely distracted by the glistening male in front of me, it took me a second to realize he’d shouted and was still shouting at me. I shook my head at the frenzy, and with wide eyes, he had hands on my shoulders and was then pushing me out of his way. I backed up. “What the hell?”

He darted inside my house like he had the right, like he had the gall to even do anything after the last time I’d seen him. That party still burned in my mind, for many reasons, and his part hadn’t helped. He’d just been the dagger in an evening of stupid, an evening he’d called me out on and I still felt the burn.

Even still, I followed LJ, screaming myself at the jump of muscles that roved and shifted as he raced through my house like he was on fire. I turned a corner, and he was at my bedroom door. I just about grabbed him until I saw it.

Smoke curled from beneath my door in a thick cloud, and screaming for a different reason now, I launched myself at it. I went for the knob, but LJ jerked me back.

“Wait,” he called, clearly the more well-reasoned between the two of us when he placed the back of his hand against the door. Clear, he went for the doorknob, and when he shot my bedroom door open, smoke billowed into the hall so quick I thought half the house was burning down.

I coughed, sputtering as I pushed my way inside. The room was so cloudy I couldn’t see much, but the fact my iron blazed in a fiery glory on my ironing board let me know pretty quick it was the source. I immediately went for it, but I was jerked again, LJ again when he tugged me back and was once more the rational one between the two of us.

Out of nowhere, he had a fire extinguisher, one he worked like an actual firefighter when he fought the flames on my ironing board. He snuffed the flames out with like two, maybe three short puffs, not even wasting it, and coughing, I made my way over to my bedroom window to open it.

“What the fuck, beauty queen?” LJ growled behind me, and apparently, I was either too panicked or not strong enough to open my window. It didn’t budge, and LJ pushed me aside again, a sweaty arm into my side when he tucked the extinguisher under his arm, then forced the window open the rest of the way. I’d had it open a little. Though not much. He wafted the smoke out, and I took a towel beside him, doing the same.

Together, we got the smoke out to the point I could see my bedroom again, and once cleared, LJ was even more sweaty than when he’d started. He ran an arm across his glistening brow, frowning at me. “You trying to kill yourself or something? Good thing I was running outside.”

Yeah, good thing, the charred remains of my ironing board beneath a smoking iron. I huffed. “I was trying to iron a dress.”

“By setting it on fire? Jesus, beauty queen.” He lowered the extinguisher. “I don’t know how you iron, but when I do it, it usually consists of a few less flames.”

I so didn’t need this from him now, his attitude. Lifting my eyes, I propped my hands on my hips. “Where’d you even get that thing?”

He’d raced into the room so quickly with that fire extinguisher it’d been like he’d conjured it, and after a couple more puffs on the iron, I assumed for good measure, he stood back.

“All these rentals have them,” he said, eyes narrowing at the smoke. “Mine was in the laundry room. Figured yours was too.”

I guessed he’d figured right, and good thing. We might have been having a different conversation had he not happened to be running past. I wouldn’t have gone for the extinguisher since I clearly didn

’t know about it. I grumbled. “I guess you saved my life or something.”

“You guess?” He grinned a little, that smug grin that only Lance Johnson could manage to achieve and didn’t fail to pulse activity into my nether regions.

The bastard.

I still hadn’t forgiven him for basically calling me stupid that night at the party. I had been, but I didn’t want him calling me that.

He wiped his brow again, his pecs jumping. He was a gorgeous male specimen, and worst of all, he knew it. His grin widened. “I guess I’ll take that. You all right now, or do I have to worry about you burning the rest of your house down?”

Eyes widening, I ran out the room and into the bathroom. I’d, ironically enough, left my curling iron on, and once I got inside, I gave a breath of relief. Nothing was on fire there, a good thing, and I started to shut it off until a deep chuckle came from behind me. Lance Johnson was in my bathroom, that grin only too wide.

“Maybe I should stick around.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” I stated, watching as he cut around me.

He picked up the curling iron. “Your presence around electrical appliances begs to differ.” He shoved a thumb back. “I just unplugged your iron by the way. The same iron that just almost set your house on fire.”

Fuck.

“What’s your deal?” He lounged back in my space like a god on his throne, his biceps pulsing up and everything. “I’ve never seen you this scatterbrained. You usually have your shit together. There wouldn’t be trouble in paradise would there? With Mr. Huntington?”

I was sure he was well aware of what had happened at the party he’d attended. And I was sure he was even more aware Sinclair and I weren’t together anymore. After all, he was the Kingpin, wasn’t he?

“We’re not together anymore,” I said, putting things lightly. The moment I had gotten back to my house, I’d thrown Sinclair’s keys outside of it. He’d pounded on my door for what felt like a lifetime before he’d given up, and that’s when his calls and texts had started. I didn’t answer anymore at the first. I told him I was done, we were done, and that was it.