by Katee Robert
You’re just looking for an excuse.
Damn straight.
He shifted his grip to run his thumbs under the thin band of her thong, tracing her hip bones. “Tell me what you need.”
A hint of vulnerability glimmered in her hazel eyes. “Don’t be gentle with me.”
Deep down, a brutal part of him that he kept firmly leashed crowed in victory. He tried to drown it out with reason, but there was no place for reason with Journey slipping a hand into his pants and squeezing his cock in a grip that was just shy of vicious. He knocked her hand away and kissed her hard. Instead of melting against him, she met him thrust for thrust, tongue and teeth, with a frenzy that matched the beast rushing to the surface.
More. He needed more of this woman.
Frank lifted her and tumbled them to the floor, barely catching himself before his full weight hit her. Journey didn’t miss a beat. She wrapped her legs around his waist and nipped his bottom lip again. Each move conveyed a desire no longer in check, an all-encompassing need only he could fulfill.
Do not fuck Journey King on the floor of your office.
He caught her hands and shifted to pin them beneath the small of her back. The only hope he had of keeping some measure of control was ensuring she didn’t touch him. He shifted over her body, trailing kisses over each of her tight pink nipples and down her stomach to her silk panties. Make her feel good. Make her forget whatever it is that’s chasing her. “Spread for me, Duchess.” When she didn’t move fast enough, he bit her thigh.
Instead of obeying, she clamped her thighs around his head. “More.”
He did it again, working his way down one inner thigh and back up the other. Marking her. Frank dragged his mouth over her panties, and he couldn’t contain a groan when he found her soaked. The scent of her need was more intoxicating than any whiskey he’d ever consumed. Consuming her sounded better and better. He licked down one side of the soft fabric and then closed his mouth over her completely.
Journey keened, her back bowing, her thighs shaking, her hips bucking against his mouth. Beneath the carefully cultivated exterior, she was a wild thing that had its wings clipped somewhere along the way. No one possessed that many restraints unless they were hiding something—or hiding from something. He sucked her clit through the silk, tonguing her even as he denied himself the removal of that last barrier. He could taste her, and it drove him mad. Frank released her wrists and gripped her thighs, forcing them wide so he had better access to her. More. She’s almost there.
His cock was so fucking hard, he had to fight to keep from taking her right there on the floor. He fucked her with his tongue as well as he could without removing the panties. He growled, and her cry rose in perfect counterpoint. “Frank, please!”
No more playing around.
He sucked her clit hard, using his lips and tongue and teeth to work her until he had to pin her in place. Her legs started shaking and her cries rose, and still he didn’t back off. Her entire body went tight as her orgasm rolled over her, the tension in her muscles turning her into a statue for one eternal second before she exhaled in a rush and went slack.
That’s enough.
He rested his forehead against her lower stomach and closed his eyes. Stop now. You gave her what she needed. If you keep going, you’re taking advantage of a woman who wouldn’t choose this otherwise. He inhaled, but it only made things worse. He could smell her. It would be the easiest thing in the world to tug her panties to the side and lick her without any barriers in place. To tongue her pussy until she was back on the edge, begging him to make her come again and again.
Until they both lost control and he had her riding his cock.
Frank knelt between Journey’s spread thighs and drank in the picture she made, her pale skin flushed with pleasure he’d given her, her eyes dazed and a small smile tugging at the edges of her lips. She lifted her head and looked down her body. “You didn’t even take my thong off.”
The fabric was wet from his mouth—from her desire. It felt as if another man had taken control of his body as Frank reached down and hooked two fingers around the soaked silk. He had to close his eyes as his knuckles brushed her clit, her wet pussy that was more than ready for his cock, and he pulled her panties off. He tucked them into his pocket as she watched. “I’ll call you a cab.”
Journey sat up, some of the pleasure leaving her face. “What?” Hurt lingered at the edge of her expression, and he could no more leave it unanswered than he could let her walk out of his office fifteen minutes ago.
He leaned forward and gripped the back of her neck, bringing her up to press her forehead against his. “If you fuck me tonight, you’ll regret it, Duchess. You’d wake up in the morning and let shame override how good everything I’d do to you felt.”
“I’m not saying you’re right.” She took a shuddering breath. “But I’m not saying you’re wrong, either.”
He didn’t release her, couldn’t force himself to let go quite yet. “Have dinner with me tomorrow.”
“What?”
Even though he knew better, words spilled out. “You have a problem, Journey. Don’t insult my intelligence by lying to me. We both know something drove you here tonight, and we both know that orgasm barely took the edge off of your fear.” He released her neck and smoothed a hand over her hair before he could stop himself.
She reacted like he’d hooked her up to a live wire. Journey shot back until she hit the wall, her eyes too wide. “No.”
He froze. Why not? Frank didn’t let the question escape. He’d told her at the beginning of this that all she had to say was no to end things. She’d just called his fucking bluff. He let his hand drop and sat back on his heels. “I’ll call you a cab,” he repeated.
“That’s for the best.” She snatched her dress and pulled it on while he watched. Through it all, she didn’t make direct eye contact again. Journey reached for the door and paused. “Frank…” She seemed to brace herself. “I appreciate the offer—I appreciate tonight, too—but…” She shook her head. “Good night, Frank.”
He waited for the door to close to call down and ensure that Dylan had a cab waiting for her, and then he pulled his shirt back on. Frank stared at the door a long time, considering what Journey had—and hadn’t—said. Given what he knew of Kingdom Corp and her family, the threat came either from her father’s side or from within the company. Lydia King might be ruthlessly ambitious, but her one redeeming quality was that she seemed to love her children. She’d never do something to put that haunted look in her older daughter’s eyes.
He should leave it alone.
He had enough bullshit to deal with without borrowing trouble.
If Journey couldn’t handle whatever issues arose, then her older brother was more than capable. It was none of Frank’s damn business, and they wouldn’t welcome any assistance he offered.
Journey was not a fucking stray he could scoop up and incorporate into his business because she had nowhere else to go. She was a King. Bad for business and potentially bad for his friendship with one of the few people he cared about in this life—Beckett. If there was a woman in Houston completely off-limits to Frank, it was Journey goddamn King.
None of that stopped him from calling his second-in-command, Mateo. The man had barely picked up the phone when Frank said, “I need everything you can find out about changes that have happened at Kingdom Corp in the last twenty-four hours, and I need it by tomorrow.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
He hung up and sat back. It was just information. It didn’t mean he had to do anything about it. Entirely possible that the issue was some internal conflict with employees of Kingdom Corp and that Journey had simply needed to blow off some steam. Simple. Nothing to concern himself with.
But every instinct he’d spent years honing shouted that Journey was in trouble—in danger—and he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else until he had an answer. Once he did…
Well, he’d decide his
next move then.
Chapter Three
Since avoiding Kingdom Corp wasn’t an option, Journey put her sleepless night to work and went in before the sun had fully risen. Anything to keep herself occupied and not focus too hard on the thoughts chasing themselves round and round in her head.
I hooked up with Frank Evans.
She leaned back in her office chair and crossed her legs, her breath catching in her throat at the dull throbbing in her thighs from his bites. Journey closed her eyes. She shouldn’t have kissed him. Or let him kiss her. Or whatever had happened that resulted in her mouth on his.
It didn’t matter if he’d expressed interest a few months ago, or that she’d been drowning—was still drowning—and he’d represented a life preserver, if only for a little while. He obviously hadn’t signed up for fucking her problems away. She shouldn’t have even asked.
Shouldn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t ask.
Journey opened her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Frank had allowed her a breath of fresh air last night, but it was over now. Time to slink back into the muck and figure out a way through their current mess. She grabbed her cell and dialed her older brother. Anderson would know what to do. He always did.
He answered on the first ring. “You’re up early.”
“I couldn’t sleep. I tried, but…” The brief new memories Frank had given her weren’t enough to stand against the cascade of poison hovering at the edge of her mind even on the best days. The last twenty-four hours hardly qualified as a best day.
“It’s going to get worse before it gets better, Jo.” He sighed, sounding just as tired and beat down as she felt. Here, on the phone, they didn’t have to try to be strong or worry about the mask cracking and the wrong person seeing the truth. Journey and Anderson didn’t play pretend for each other—they never had.
“I can handle it.” It wasn’t quite a lie. “It won’t be forever, right? Elliott has never taken an interest in anything resembling work. Why should this time be any different?” She just had to hold on to what was left of her sanity until he left again. Is this what my life is going to look like? Acting normal and well-adjusted in between tailspins every time he comes back to town?
Her mother might have been a different kind of monster, but at least she kept the larger threats at bay with her presence. Journey gave herself a sharp shake. She couldn’t afford to think like that. “He’ll leave,” she repeated.
“I’m not so sure, Jo. He’s different this time. Focused. I don’t like it.”
“Me, either.” She grabbed her favorite pen and tapped it against the desk. “When will you be in?”
He chuckled. “I’m here now.” Footsteps sounded down the hall, and then her office door opened to reveal her older brother. Anderson hung up and stepped into the room.
He looked so much like their father, it made her heart stop for several eternal seconds, but just like she had every time before, she focused on the differences. Anderson and Journey had their mother’s mouth—generous but far quicker to frown than to smile in genuine warmth. Journey fought against the inclination, but Anderson had never bothered. He was taller than their father, too, and broader. Both her brothers leaned more King than Bancroft when it came to how deceptively large they were. Anderson hid it with expensive suits cut to minimize his sheer size. Bellamy didn’t bother.
He shut the door carefully and took her in. She could actually feel him categorize the darker shadows beneath her eyes, the way her hand shook—just a little—and how lackluster her hair was after skipping her routine yet again. “You look like shit, Jo.”
And he looked like he normally did—cool and in control. Anderson had always hidden his fear better than she had. Or maybe he truly didn’t fear Elliott anymore. Maybe she was the only one who did. Aren’t you a little ray of sunshine this morning? She cleared her throat. “Wow, thanks. I’ll make sure to remember your supportive words when I shop for your Christmas gift.”
He raised his eyebrows. “It’s February.”
“You don’t say.” She gave a mock gasp. “Only ten months to go. Anderson, I’d be really careful about playing your cards right or it’s going to be 2007 all over again.”
His lips quirked at the reference to the year she’d bought him a pony and then badgered him until he took a picture riding it—which amounted to him standing over the tiny beast with a put-upon expression. It was one of her favorite pictures of her brother, one of the few times he wasn’t perfectly put together.
He bypassed the chairs opposite her desk and rounded them to pull her into his arms. “I’ll find us a way through this, Jo. I promise.”
She closed her eyes and inhaled her brother’s expensive cologne—the same stuff he’d used for damn near fifteen years. Here in the safety of his embrace she could almost believe that Anderson would take care of everything. Again. Journey allowed herself one last deep inhale, and then she took a step back. “Maybe we need to look at the possibility that there isn’t a convenient way through this. What if he was just waiting for something to take out Mom so he could step in?” The thought raised the small hairs on the back of her neck.
She’d never put much consideration into her father’s intelligence—he didn’t need to be smart to destroy lives—and her mother didn’t have much respect for him. When Journey was ten, Lydia had come home unexpectedly from a work trip and found her four children in the midst of one of Elliott’s more creative punishments. He had them running around the house under the hot August sun for hours. By the time Lydia showed up, Eliza had fainted from heatstroke, and Anderson was carrying her as best he could.
Elliott never spent another night in that house.
Journey still didn’t know what Lydia had done to run him out of Houston so effectively. Her mother didn’t talk about it, and they were hardly going to bring it up. The end result was the only thing that mattered—he was gone and they were safe.
Until they weren’t.
Her phone pinged, and then Anderson’s did the same. The sound snapped her back to the present. She couldn’t afford to let in the ghosts of their past. Her brother needed her focused and standing at his side instead of cowering behind him. Journey turned to grab hers, forcing a laugh. “You still have that same notification for emails? Anderson, we talked about this. It sounds like freaking dial-up internet.”
“It’s nostalgic.” He tapped out the pass code for his phone.
“It’s enough to give me anxiety just hearing it.” She opened her email and stopped short. “What the hell?”
“That fucking bastard.”
She ignored her brother, scrolling through the extensive email as she read. She went back to the top and read it again, part of her not quite believing this professional cutting down had been delivered by her father. “He…What? He’s vetting the board? We are the board.” When Lydia was still in Houston, the three of them had effectively run the company, hauling the board in to vote only when strictly necessary. The members of the board were figureheads at best, which was the way everyone preferred it. Why the hell did they need to be vetted?
Her phone rang, and she stared at it like it was a live snake. “He’s calling.”
“Answer and put it on speaker.” Anderson moved to her back. He didn’t touch her, but he silently offered his support by sheer proximity.
She obeyed. Journey forced her spine straight. It’s just a phone call. He’s not here…except he is here. We’re not safe anymore. We never really were. “Early morning for you, considering your drinking problem, Elliott.”
“That’s a rich accusation considering what I know of your extracurricular activities.” He sounded so satisfied, her stomach dropped and then rose at lightning speed, leaving her dizzy. Elliott continued, practically purring. “Rough night, sweetheart?”
Don’t call me that. She bit down the response. He already knew far too many of her buttons—he was far too many of her buttons. Giving him more ammunition was out of the question. “I’m not sure what
you’re talking about. I’m in the office and you aren’t, so…Who really had the rough night?”
He laughed, the sound so familiar, she sank into her chair and crossed her legs—hard—using the ache from Frank’s bite marks to steady herself. I’m not a child anymore. I’m a fucking adult and he can’t hurt me. She took a shallow breath. “Is there something you needed, or were you trying to ruin my morning coffee?”
Just like that, the charming daddy mask disappeared, replaced by the cold thing that dwelled beneath. “Going forward, anyone who serves on the board of directors will need to be approved. What happened with your mother was incredibly unfortunate and could have been avoided with a proper vetting process—one I fully intend to implement.”
Dread weighted down her limbs. “Who’s handling this vetting process—aside from you?”
“There are a handful of investors who haven’t been pleased with the direction Kingdom Corp is going and who are eager to take a more hands-on role.” She could practically hear his grin. “The vetting process begins this week. If anyone is found to be…unfit…they will be removed from their position within the board—and potentially removed from the company as well. We can’t have unfit individuals in charge of any kind of operation. Wouldn’t you agree, sweetheart?”
Me. He means me. I’m the weak link.
Anderson’s hand closed around her shoulder, making her jump. He squeezed, his fingers digging in just enough that she managed to exhale the breath she’d been holding. “I’m not convinced a board you’ve helped bankroll is the most unbiased method of deciding if someone is unfit.”
“You don’t have to be convinced. This is happening. The board will make a decision based on the information given to them. I’m bringing in a psychologist to analyze every member and give the thumbs-up or thumbs-down.”
“That’s hardly legal.”
His low laugh rolled down the line, making her stomach twist painfully. Elliott could be vicious, but he’d always been his scariest when he laughed. It was often the only warning they got before one of his creative games. The kind that ended in visits from the doctor the family had on retainer.
