Money Man (King Maker 1)

“Yet you’re here with me, not him,” he said, repeating my statement from earlier.

He was too confident, leaving me off balance until his eyes shifted to the bathroom door. That snapped some sense into me. I shoved down my shame and instead reached for anger.

“Fuck you,” I said.

For me it was a declaration of war. Words I didn’t use often and should have been the verbal slap I’d meant them to be.

“I already have, lass, and I freely admit I love to fuck. And from the sounds you made last night, you do too. The question is, where will we fuck next?”

His smug grin told me he fully expected we’d do it right now.

His arrogance should have been a total turn-off. Yet I still wanted him, which confused the mess out of me when reminded of my damnable actions the night before.

Turning from his green-eyed stare, I glanced over his shoulder before speaking. “Never going to happen. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back,” I said way too quickly, unable to keep it together in his presence.

He stepped closer, which didn’t seem possible, and his hand landed on my thigh.

“You’re only lying to yourself.” The words rumbled from low in his throat and sent a shiver of excitement through me. Especially as his fingers pushed higher, burning me with lust. My center clenched, and I swore if he touched my core, I would spontaneously combust.

“I have to go,” I sputtered, completely unsure of myself. I’d never been in a situation like this before.

“Then why aren’t you leaving?” His breath fanned across my ear.

The sexual tension between us was undeniable, but my date waited for me. “I am.”

He pulled back just enough to take his warmth with him, and unfortunately for me I missed it instantly.

“So go.” He held out a hand as if to direct my path.

I hesitated long enough for victory to fill his expression.

“Just like I thought. You want me,” he stated as fact.

His confidence was like a wet blanket snapping me out of the lustful haze.

“Ego much?” I snapped.

“Tell me you don’t,” he dared.

I tried to force the lie from my mouth, but he beat me to it.

“Wear a skirt tomorrow and don’t bother with underwear,” he demanded.

I was too startled by his statement to offer any objection as a war between desire and common sense waged within me. This cocky jerk-face of a man was dangerous to my self-preservation. What he wanted was clear, and it wasn’t really me. Wanting him was just as foolish on so many levels and wasn’t what my mending broken heart needed.

“I don’t even know your name,” I said, injecting as much haughtiness as I could.

Then I waited for an answer as if I was considering his offer. I should have been walking away with my head held high and never looking back. I was aware I’d been gone far too long from my date to be considered polite. I’d been taught better.

His eyes searched mine several beats before he answered. “Kalen.”

He continued to watch me as if waiting for some sort of reaction. Was he lying to me about his name?

“Kalen,” I repeated.

The space between us evaporated, leaving not a breath there. “I want to hear you say that when my cock is buried deep inside you.”

My heart raced as his hand gripped my waist and gave it a squeeze.

“I have to go,” I said in a lame attempt to leave when my feet were glued to the ground.

“Tomorrow,” he commanded.

His conceit cleared my head some.

“I don’t think so,” I said with more self-assuredness than I felt.

He brought his mouth so close to mine, I forgot all about his demanding tone. Instead, my memory flashed back to what he’d done to me with it the previous night. I squeezed my legs together as if I could stop the need gathering there.

“Eight o’clock,” he declared as if it were a forgone conclusion that I’d be there. Then he took a step back, and smirked. “Or not.”

Damn him, the arrogant ass. He looked as though he didn’t care either way as “lass” rolled off his tongue in an invitation I found hard to deny. Free, I moved, but caught his parting words as I glanced over my shoulder.

“Your choice.”

I stared into those lush green eyes before I fled back into the dining room. Dessert had been served and my date waited patiently for me. I took a few cleansing breaths before I got to the table. The arrogant Kalen had acted as though I was his, and some unfamiliar part of me wanted it.

When I sat, my date looked happy to see me. I felt like such a bad person. There I was, lusting over an asshat while on a date with a guy who was actually really nice.

“Sorry,” I said, and tried not to glance over at Kalen.