As always, the impact of his beauty is like a truck smashing into my chest. Dark hair that’s cut short at the sides—shorter than when I last saw him—and long on top. Square jaw, mis-matched eyes so bright they seem to draw every inch of light in the room. High cheekbones, the makings of a five-o-clock shadow on his chin, even though it’s not even noon. He straightens, and his shoulders fill the doorway. Then he prowls toward me, and the rest of the room recedes. His wide chest is sculpted enough that the grey Henley he’s wearing stretches across his pecs. His waist is narrow, his powerful thighs straining the worn jeans he’s wearing. His gaze locks with mine, and as always, it’s as if he’s reaching into my mind and gleaning every dirty fantasy I’ve harbored about him all these months.
Jesus, how I’ve missed him. I trawled his social media feeds, tuned into the cricket matches, and stalked the tabloid gossip columns for any news I could get about him. I learned a lot about the sport and found out more about the countries whose teams he competed against. I also froze the screen every time there was a close up of him during a match, and again, when it focused on him deep in discussion with his teammates, on and off the field. So, I began to understand his role as the team captain and the fact that he’s what they called a team player.
The alphahole who was mean to me, before he shared his biggest secrets with me, is very loyal when it comes to defending his team members against the media and against the athletes on the opposing teams gunning for them… All of which paints a far more complex picture about this guy than I could have imagined.
But it doesn’t tell me much more about the man himself. If anything, it confused me about who the real Cade 'the King' Kingston is. Is he the man who bullied me? The man who spanked me and made me orgasm? The man who confided in me after making tender love to me? Or the man who put his team-mates before himself on the sports field, regardless of the fact that it could have cost him the opportunity to smash records on the playing field? Or is he the man who fucks his way through the beds of supermodels and actresses?
Yeah, he appeared in the tabloids at various gala events around the world—each time with a different woman on his arm. I should hate him for it. And I do. He went from my bed into those of these other women. I’d been nothing but easy pussy. Perhaps, that’s why he shared himself with me—so he could soften me up enough so I’d open myself to him that last time we made love. And that was special. It was mind-blowing, the most emotionally moving experience of my life. Even now, as I think of the connection we shared, of how he handled my body, my pussy clenches, my chest tightens, and my pulse speeds up.
Some of my thoughts must be reflected on my face, for those mismatched eyes of his flash. His gaze grows heated as he looks me up and down. He takes a step in my direction when the baby mewls. Zara shushes the child, but the spell is broken. He draws himself to his full height, then wipes all expression from his face. He glances toward his sister, and my muscles sag. It’s as if I’ve been released from a tractor beam. He heads toward his sister, and his features form into an uncomfortable expression. "Didn’t mean to overhear that earlier conversation," he mumbles.
"Nonsense. You’re perfectly aware of how the birthing process takes place," Zara scolds him.
"Yes, but so far, births and anything to do with them have only been a concept, just like the fact you’re a mother now is something I’m still trying to wrap my head around," he drawls.
He walks over to stand on the side of the bed opposite me. Which leaves the entire expanse of the bed between us, thank god. His fingers are looped around one pink and one blue balloon, which say, ‘baby boy’ and ‘baby girl,’ respectively.
"Was covering all my bases, since you kept us guessing until the last moment," he explains, then glances down at the baby in her arms. "Wow, you really are a mom."
"And you’re an uncle."
Cade’s face lights up. He thrusts out his chest and pulls back his shoulders. "I can’t wait to teach him how to play cricket."
"Would you like to hold him?" Zara asks.
Cade looks alarmed. "Me?" There’s so much panic in his voice, I have to press my lips together to stop myself from snorting out loud.
"Yes, you." Zara tilts her head.
"Umm. He’s too fragile. Maybe when he’s a little older?" Cade takes a step back to punctuate his words. The balloons flutter above him. "I guess I should tie these…somewhere?" He crosses the room to a chair pushed up by the window and ties them to its back.
"Oh, now I realize what’s wrong,” I exclaim. “The pink balloon says, ‘baby boy,’ and the blue balloon—"
"—says ‘baby girl.’ I’m aware." Cade spins around, then walks back to take his place on the side of the bed opposite me; this time, putting more distance between the bed and himself. Not that I’m complaining. The farther away from me he is, the better.
"Shouldn’t it… I mean… Shouldn’t it be the other way around…?" I chew on my lower lip, and his gaze lowers to my mouth. His nostrils flare and he looks annoyed. With me? With himself, maybe? He raises his gaze to mine, and my breath catches. There are sparks of something I can only define as…lust? Nah, not possible. He doesn’t find me attractive. Does he?
Zara clears her throat, and Cade snaps out of his reverie.
"Who am I here to visit, hmm?" he drawls
I frown. "You’re coming to visit Zara."
"Who is…?"
"Your sister?" I offer.
"And?"
"Uh, she’s very much a feminist, a strong woman, ah—" I tip up my chin. "I get it now. You were making a statement you knew she’d approve of."
"You’re smarter than you look." He smirks.
I firm my lips. "And you’re not as dumb as you look."
His gaze widens. "Dumb? Did you just call me dumb?"
"You know what they say." I thrust out a hip. "When you have a good-looking face, chances are there’s nothing between the ears."
Cade’s jaw hangs open, then he chuckles. "Very good."
"You talk as if you didn’t think I could hold my own in a conversation," I scoff.
"Oh, I’m sure you can." He raises his shoulder. "If not, my sister wouldn’t have hired you."
"I took her on because Abby showed a lot of potential. In fact—" Zara turns to me. "I see something of me in you."
A warmth suffuses my chest. "You do?"
She nods. "You have the same hunger, the need to prove yourself. That thirst for success that pushes you to try harder, to go that extra mile—"
"Which is why I think you’ll be perfect for the role of my new Communications Manager." Cade steps in smoothly.
Eh, excuse me? Did he just say what I think he did? I jerk my chin in his direction. "Wh-what do you mean?"
"I need help managing my social media profiles, as well as my PR, and you heard my sister, you’re among the best on her team. So, I’ve decided you can come work for me.”
No way. He’s offering me a job?