The King (Gentlemen Rogues 2)

"Brilliant. I don't want to talk about him either."

I nodded, and he nudged my leg with his. "Thanks for the beer. Being here can be isolating."

"Trust me, I know."

He turned to face me, and his gaze locked on mine again. He licked his bottom lip, and my insides melted and coiled all at once. God, that look could melt knickers from yards away.

“I feel like I know you."

“You do know me. I've been training you for two weeks now."

He shook his head. “You know what I mean. I feel like I know you from before I came here. This is easy. It feels good to talk to you. You're the first person I can talk to since Charlie died, and that's saying something."

I swallowed hard and shook my head. "Look, it's just transference. You have to trust me to train you, so it just feels that way."

He nodded slowly but didn't take his eyes off me. "Can I ask you something? How much of that is what you believe, and how much of that is the fact that you train me and are just following the rules?"

I swallowed. And then my gaze made a mistake of dipping to his lips and staying there. My brain gave all kinds of commands.

Lift your fucking gaze. Look up at him. Eyes on him. Not his lips.

But I couldn't. Because I did remember. Even if he didn't, I remembered.

He groaned low. “You look at me sometimes like you want what I want, Saff."

I cleared my throat. I tried closing my eyes and shaking it off. But still, that feeling had set low in my belly and was trying to claw its way out. Trying to seep its way into my bones. I could feel the desperation and need building. “I should go."

I pushed to my feet, but he took my hand and stood up himself. “Don't go."

"Whatever you're thinking might be a good idea isn't, Lachlan."

“I like how you say my name."

I swallowed again. “I should go. I'm going."

“You said that already," he whispered.

And while technically he was in my path. I could have easily sidestepped him. And we both knew I could put him down if I needed to, but I didn't. I stood in front of him, his hand holding mine, his thumb grazing over my knuckle.

"I'm not the only one who feels it, am I?" he asked.

I knew what would happen if I acknowledged it, but I couldn't stop myself from saying the truth. “It's not allowed."

"So I'm told. I just want to know I'm not alone. Because I have been obsessively thinking about you since we met. I can't get you out of my head, and I just want to know that I'm not crazy and alone here. Because the more time I spend with you, the more I feel like I know you."

“I'm—"

“You're my trainer. I get it. And you can't say anything. I just wanted you to know that I feel it."

I nodded slowly, not sure what to say. Knowing what I should do, but knowing that my body and my mind and my heart and my soul wanted to stay right there rooted to that spot with him holding my hand and my mouth begging him to kiss me. My core tightened around nothingness, desperate to feel the bite of having him inside me.

I squeezed my eyes shut. "We can't. I can't."

“I know." His voice was a low groaned whisper. But still he leaned forward. And I leaned up, tilting my face up toward his. His gaze was searching as he inched closer and closer and closer, the tension and the heat spiraling around us, sparking, threatening to set off an inferno.

An inferno that should not be. An inferno that was going to be a problem. An inferno that was going to get us in trouble.

“I know I shouldn't."