Assumption (Underground Kings 1)

“No.” I shake my head, looking at the door.

“You try to sleep on the couch and I’m dragging your ass back up here to bed,” he threatens.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands off me?” He smiles.

“You wish.” I roll my eyes, knowing that is the exact reason why I don’t want to get into bed with him.

“Come on, babe. I can tell you’re tired.”

I look at the bed then him. I am really tired. I open my dresser, pull out a pair of shorts, put them on, and walk over to the opposite side of the bed before getting in. I hear his laugh as he lies back down, shutting off the light. I put my back to him and close my eyes.

I’m just about asleep when I feel him put his hand around my waist, and he pulls me across the bed to him so his body curves around mine and his hand can wrap in my hair.

“What are you doing?” I ask him sleepily.

“Sleeping,” he says softly, kissing the back of my head.

I know I should get up and leave or at least put up a little bit of a fight about cuddling with him for the third night in a row, but I can’t. I feel too warm, too comfortable, and way too exhausted to fight what I’m feeling. I feel him kiss me again and his hand go a little tighter, and I’m pretty sure I hear him whisper, “She’s getting it,” as I fall asleep.

I wake up in complete darkness. My first thought is how great I feel. I have forgotten what it feels like to wake up after a good night’s sleep. It takes a second to realize that it’s pitch black in the room. I sit up quickly and look at the clock on the bedside table, and my heart starts beating out of my chest when I see that it’s four o’clock. I missed work!

I jump out of bed and run to the door, swinging it open only to be bombarded with bright daylight. I look over my shoulder into the room and see that there are now dark, wooden blinds on the windows, whereas before there were only sheer curtains. My heart, which was already beating hard, starts to beat harder. Kenton put in blinds while I was at work, knowing how little sleep I’ve been getting. That was sweet. Really sweet.

I go to the bathroom, quickly taking care of business, and then head down to the kitchen. As soon as I make it around the corner, I’m surprised to see Kenton there, wearing the same cut-off sweats he had on last night and a pair of sneakers. His head is back, his throat working vigorously while he downs a bottle of water. The ends of his hair are dripping with sweat along with his bare chest.

I stand there captivated by him; I can’t pull my eyes away no matter how hard I try. Just watching him drink water is making the space between my legs get tingly. When the bottle’s empty, he pulls it from his mouth, the back of his hand goes to his lips, and he swipes them. As soon as

his head turns, his eyes land on me and a look I’m starting to become familiar with fills his eyes.

“How’d you sleep?” he rumbles.

I stand there staring at him, trying to comprehend what he just said over the lustful haze that’s filling my head.

“You put up blinds,” I say when I finally find my words and then want to smack myself for being an idiot.

“I know how tired you’ve been,” he says, his eyes going soft.

“That was very sweet, and I actually slept really great. When I woke up, I thought I’d overslept and missed work.”

His smile makes the breath catch in my throat.

“I thought you would be at work,” I tell him, trying to think of something else to say besides, “Please kiss me.”

“Yeah. I have to leave for a couple of nights. Justin has a lead for me, but my flight isn’t until after midnight, and I wanted to make sure you would be okay being here alone.”

My heart plummets. I don’t want him to leave, but I know his work is important. Plus, I would look really stupid if I were to beg him to stay. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” I wave him off, trying to do the same with the feeling of loneliness starting to fill my chest. I’ve forgotten what that feels like; I haven’t felt it since I moved here.

He shakes his head and takes two long steps until his body is crowding mine. “I like worrying about you.”

“Why?” I ask softly, my eyes drawn to his mouth.

“Honesty, I don’t know.”

I look at him and my hands go to his chest when I feel like I might fall over from the heat in his eyes.

“What I do know is I want this”—his finger presses lightly into my chest above my heart—“more than I’ve wanted anything, and that right there tells me everything I need to know.”

“Oh,” I breathe. The words aren’t deep or particularly meaningful, but something about the way he said it, with such sincerity, has me leaning deeper into him.