Money Man (King Maker 1)

Just as I’d been about to mention that I’d planned to cook, the bell dinged. He created some separation between us as the doors opened. A yapping dog broke free of his tiny owner and leaped into the elevator. I bent down and caught him as Kalen steadied the older woman who had been dragged along.

“Are you all right?” he asked her.

The white-haired woman looked at Kalen like he was a god.

“I’m fine thanks to you, young man,” she said as he righted her on her feet.

He flashed her that spell-casting grin of his as I held her dog out. She took him from me as Kalen kept the doors open.

“Are you going down?” she asked. When we shook our heads in tandem, she apologized. “I must have pressed the wrong button.”

“No problem,” he said, that sexy accent of his mesmerizing both of us.

“Too bad,” she said, grinning and then winking at him as the doors closed.

“What was that all about?” I asked, amused by Kalen’s continued grin.

“She’s a pincher.”

I stood perplexed for a second. Her hand hadn’t reached for his face and my jaw dropped when I put it together.

“She didn’t?” I asked.

“She did.”

I let loose a laugh. “She pinched your bottom,” I said absently, and he nodded.

Seconds later, the elevator came to a stop. I shook my head as I led him down the hall to a door on the right. I fumbled with the keys because the man was too close, and I hadn’t texted Lizzy to warn her I was bringing home a guest. I didn’t want to give her a show. Though knowing her, she’d be thrilled given her encouragement of late. When she didn’t pop her head out, I assumed she wasn’t in.

“Nice place,” he said as we walked in.

In front of me a mirror hung where I was able to glimpse him setting the bag down on the island. Then his dark stare landed on me, looking positively predatory.

“This is crashing at a friend’s. I’m just an ordinary girl, without the shine.” I did a little twirl as I held out my hands to encompass the room and my nerves got to me knowing what was coming. I ended up stumbling over my feet.

Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dangerous caught me before I fell. And holy crap on a cracker. The sexual tension between us hit a feverish pitch, despite my efforts to squash it with truths and quips.

I danced out of his hold, which was a bad thing considering I’d almost fallen once. I smacked right into the wall, which probably knocked some sense into me.

“Hey,” he said, suddenly there, probing at my temple while peering into my eyes.

“I’m okay,” I said, waving him off and trying my best to keep it together. I resisted searching for a bump on my head myself as the rest of me was still at attention. Rather, still ready for his attention.

“I didn’t grow up with the shine either,” he said, taking a look around.

I appreciated that he let it go and didn’t make a fuss over my clumsiness. I would have been more embarrassed. Instead, I assessed myself and felt fine. I went for two glasses.

Looking over my shoulder, I asked, “Self-made man?” to keep the conversation going.

“Isn’t that the only way?” he asked, eating up the distance between us. “Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you should lie down.”

I glanced over at the mirror, wondering if I had a growing bruise on my head. But there wasn’t one.

“What, are you playing doctor now?” I teased and searched for a bottle of red wine based on the smells coming from the bag he brought.

Suddenly, he was way too close, not allowing me the space I needed to calm my body down. “No, but I’m in the mood to play if you’re okay.”

He bent over to nip at my neck, and I felt his erection grow at our contact.

Slow your racing heart, I warned myself. I wasn’t the creature he was making me out to be. But screw it. I needed this. I wasn’t going to fight it. It wasn’t like I was a virgin. My parents may not have approved of my behavior. But what did it matter? I never planned to return home—not permanently at least.

“What did you bring for dinner?” I asked, sounding way too breathless.

“Steak, if you’re hungry.”

Oh, I was hungry, but which hunger was winning out at that moment, I wasn’t sure.

“I’m a meat and potatoes kind of girl,” I said in jest.

Quirking up an eyebrow, he moved to the island to pull containers out of the bag. It wasn’t your ordinary takeout. The food was in an insulated carrier and there was still a little sizzle as he removed things.

I ventured to the cabinets and pulled out plates. Seamlessly, we worked in tandem as if we’d lived together for years. He dished out the food as I gathered silverware and a corkscrew.