Page 62 of By His Vow
“What’s wrong, KC? All work and no play makes the King all tense and angry?”
“Shut the fuck up, Tatum. I’m not in the mood for your shit.”
“Then why are you here?” I counter. “You could have left me in the club.” He scoffs, letting me know exactly what he thinks of that suggestion. “You could have left me here. I’m not going to die.”
Something flashes in his eyes, and I’m pretty sure it’s hope that maybe I would, to get him out of this bullshit arrangement.
“So?” I ask, pushing myself so I’m sitting and resting back on my palms. “What happens now? You’ve got me in your fancy hotel room. You’re all but naked and I’m…” I kick my heels off and lift my feet, placing them on the edge of the bed with my legs spread.
Shameless hussy, Tatum Warner.
I banish that little voice of reason in my head.
Who the fuck cares?
Kingston sure doesn’t. He and Miles make a hobby out of seeing how many women they can tap in one weekend; why shouldn’t it work the other way around?
Maybe I should make a play for all the Callahan brothers. That’s the sort of hat trick I can get on board with…
“Keep your fucking eyes and hands away from my brothers, Tatum,” Kingston warns, letting me know that that wasn’t an internal thought.
Damn tequila.
“Or what?” I taunt, dropping back to my elbows.
“Or fucking nothing.”
He moves closer and my heart rate kicks up a notch.
His eyes hold mine for a few seconds before he finally loses the fight with his self-control and they drop to my body, lingering for longer than polite on my lace-covered pussy.
“See something you like?” I tease, spreading my legs wider, and offering myself up to him.
“I’m not some sleaze you picked up in a club, Tatum.”
“I’m more than aware of that, husband,” I breathe, my voice raspy and full of need.
His jaw ticks and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.
I run my eyes down the length of his body again and smirk when I find that he’s beginning to tent his towel.
My fingers twitch with my need to reach out and rip it from his body.
I gasp as he suddenly leans over me, and as his hands press to the mattress on either side of my head, my arms give out and I collapse back.
“Kingston,” I breathe, my eyes searching his, desperately trying to figure out what he’s thinking.
“You’re a bad, bad girl, Tatum.” He dips his head, his hot breath rushing over my skin, making my core flood with heat. Just his breath alone is intense; I can only imagine what his touch will do. “I think it’s time someone finally taught you a lesson.”
“Oh my god,” I whisper, desire coursing through my veins.
His knuckles brush against my hips before he grasps my dress and none too gently drags it up my body.
My skin burns as his eyes feast on me. Needing more, I reach for the front clasp of my bra and flick it open.
“Make me yours, King,” I moan, the room spinning around me.
“You’re fucking trouble, Brat. You’ve no idea what I want to do to you.”