Money Man (King Maker 1)
“For what?” I asked.
“This.”
His other hand flicked my clit once and then twice. That was all it took to send me flying over the edge like a hang glider as if my body had waited for his silent command. Moments later, he followed me into bliss.
When he steadied me on my feet, I nearly begged for him to stay inside me. Words, however, were like an oasis in a desert. I could see them but couldn’t reach them. So we stood, with his body still covering mine, panting out the frenzy that had overcome us. In the ensuing silence, we both heard the front door open.
Fifteen
Keys jingled as they hit the granite countertop, creating a sound that reverberated through the apartment. It had to be Lizzy and not Matt, which was a total blessing. Matt would have strolled directly to my open bedroom door and caught me with my pants down, literally.
“Bails, are you home? Is that Matt with you?”
I let my head fall against the wall. It was an automatic response. Oh, how her words had sounded, but there was nothing to do about it now.
“It’s me,” I called out. “And Matt’s not here.” I had no choice but to admit that or she might have come to my room and caught me in the act.
“Ooo,” she said, sounding full of regret. “I forgot something. I’ll be back later.” And just as quickly as she’d come, she was gone.
Lizzy deserved the supreme best friend award and I was so grateful she was mine.
Once the door closed, Kalen spun me around. His eyes had darkened from a forest green to midnight, if that was possible. “Who’s Matt? Are you fucking him too?”
In retrospect, I couldn’t blame him for coming to that conclusion. But in the moment, I responded with a crashing thwack, slapping him hard across the face. “How dare you?”
His eye blazed and my mouth dropped. I covered it with my hands in the realization that I shouldn’t have struck him.
Before I could apologize, he snarled, “What did you expect me to think?”
His anger only fueled mine.
“I expected you to ask and not assume, asshole.”
“I did ask.” He sounded like he was restraining himself from a reacting to the stinging red mark across his face. It was illuminated by the hall light. We hadn’t bothered to turn any others on.
“No, you asked and then made judgments. Matt is my roommate’s brother. As I’ve said before, you are only the third man I’ve ever slept with. So, despite my recent behavior, I bet I’m Mother Teresa compared to you. Now get the hell out.”
When he stepped toward me, I shoved at his chest and felt the coiled muscles tense there. He was like a mountain but didn’t press forward. “Lass,” he began.
“Don’t you lass me. Just lass your way out of my apartment,” I said, standing firm but not touching him. Touching him again would be bad. It would be too easy to give in.
His eyes swept the room and remained motionless for a second too long. I followed his line of sight to an unmistakable pair of men’s pants and a dress shirt draped over a chair. I closed my eyes, knowing how it looked. My first thought was to explain. But when his murderous gaze landed on me, I held my tongue.
“And I suppose those are Matt’s clothes in your room?”
“Yes,” I said quickly. “But this is none of your business. You don’t own me.”
Reaching down, he pulled up his pants and said, “You’re right. I don’t.”
Stepping out of my own pants, because I wasn’t going anywhere except to the shower once he was gone, I said, “Don’t you dare look at me that way. I was supposed to get married that night when I met you. Instead, I found myself drunk fucking a total stranger.”
Invitations had been sent out for that date. Luckily, I learned the truth about my cheating fiancé weeks before I made the mistake of walking down the aisle with Scott.
Fastening his pants, he didn’t look like he believed me, and for some reason I wanted to cry. “I just bet,” he stated.
“Fuck you,” I cried out as he strode out of the room.
“I already did that, sweetheart,” he called out in a matter-of-fact kind of way. Because he hadn’t called me lass, somehow that hurt even more. Sweetheart wasn’t close to sweet coming from his lips. It made me feel more like a slut. And wasn’t I one?
When the front door closed, I leaned back on the wall where I’d just had mind-blowing sex with a man who wormed his way under my skin. I slid down said wall as the realization that I wouldn’t ever have that again caused my knees to buckle.
Sixteen
It took me a long time to peel myself up from the floor. Skid marks from the little makeup I’d worn streaked down my face. I wiped my eyes as if I could remove the evidence of my despair as I stared at the braided ring that should have been a reminder of who I was. I opened a window in my room, despite the chill and headed to the kitchen.