Oh. God. I rocked against him, riding his hand. I wanted him deeper, wanted him wider. I wanted his mouth on me. Everywhere. I wanted him inside of me. I needed it so bad I couldn’t breathe.
“You’re so wet,” he whispered against my ear and thrust inside me. “So fucking wet.” There was nothing violent or possessive in his tone, only reverence. “I could play with you like this all night.”
Please.
No secrets. No lies. No running. No enemies. Nothing mattered but me and him and this.
I clenched his tie in my fists and leaned my forehead on his shoulder. “Sutton…”
My body pulsed with heat, but before I could explode on his fingers, Sutton slid them out of me, leaving me bereft and neglected. I was drowning in a sea of lust, and his touch was the only thing keeping my head above water. I was about to protest when he brought his fingers to my lips. “Open your mouth,” he demanded, and I shook my head.
He quirked a brow, tipping his head to one side. “No?”
I sucked in a breath and met his gaze. “No. Because tonight, when you’re touching Julianna Bellarosa, I want you to smell like me.”
I want the world to know you’re mine every bit as much as I am yours.
He started this fight. I was simply punching back. Sutton narrowed his eyes, and the air shifted. The moment ended as fast as it came. He could deny it all he wanted, but it seemed that was all we ever had—moments. Like waves crashing onto the shore only to be pulled back out to the sea again.
“You know about that?” His dark laughter filled my ears. “Of course you know about that. I’m sure that was part of her plan.”
Plan? Whose plan? Did he really think I wouldn’t find out? Prince Sutton requested an intimate dinner in his private chambers. The words sat heavy on my chest. Suffocating me. Crushing me.
“You should probably go. I wouldn’t want you to keep the Prime Minister’s daughter waiting,” I gritted out, still mad that he pulled his fingers from me three seconds too soon.
“If you want me to go, I’ll go. But just so you know, the only woman I plan on touching is you.” I belted out a laugh, and he took a step forward, closing the space between us once again. He fisted my hair, tilting my head to the side as he inspected the bite mark he left there. His mouth curled in a proud smile then thinned back to its usual scowl. “There is no date.”
“Oh, so now everyone in the kitchen is a liar?”
There was no way I was telling him Madeline was the one who told me. She was kind and innocent and didn’t deserve his wrath.
His nostrils flared, and his jaw tensed. “You misunderstood.”
“Misunderstood? Prince Sutton requested an intimate dinner… I think that’s pretty freaking clear.”
“I said you misunderstood.” He tightened his grip in my hair then turned my head to face him. “And why the fuck are we fighting when there are so many other things I could do with that pretty mouth?”
Because fighting is what we do.
His other hand hooked around my waist and pulled me against him as his lips crashed to mine. His hand slid to my butt, squeezing it while our tongues, lips, and teeth clashed in a brutal kiss. Bruising. Biting. Or maybe both. It was peace, and it was chaos. It was a rage-filled promise. Every doubt, every insecurity, every apprehension crashed to the ground with this kiss. I couldn’t think or breathe. Sutton stole my air and filled me with him. His thick, heavy erection dug into my stomach. I tangled my fingers in his hair and rubbed against him, needing him to be closer, wanting more. He finally pulled away, but all my senses were still filled with him. His touch, his taste, and his smell all consumed the very air I breathed.
I looked up at his eyes, dark and hungry, and tried to find my voice. “Just so you know, regardless of what you think, I wasn’t running to Keaton. I was running away from him.”
He jolted back, hitting the brakes so hard I could almost smell the rubber on the road. “What did you just say?”
Oh. Ship.
“Running away from what? What did he do?” I grabbed my towel and held it to my body as though that would somehow make me feel less vulnerable. He stood up straight, reminding me exactly how intimidating he could be. “I think we’ve moved past all the mindfucking, so answer the goddamn question.” His gaze dared me to lie.
“He wants your throne.”
His eyes never left mine, but the thoughts behind them seemed distant. Like he was mentally placing pieces of a puzzle together.
“Tell me something I don’t know.” His voice was calm. Too calm. Almost completely detached. Every word was controlled and concise, as if he held it all together with a tight rein.
A nervous tremble shot through my body. “He tried to use me to get it.”
We stared at each other in silence. There was so much left unspoken. Questions left unasked. Secrets left untold. I wanted to tell him everything, to bare my soul so that there were no more walls left between us. He let go of my waist and made his way toward the front door.
“Wait. Where are you going?”
He couldn’t leave. There was so much more he needed to know. He was walking into an ambush. I just lost my father. Sutton was the one person I finally let wade through the fog of grief. I would never survive losing him too.
He stopped with his hand on the doorknob then looked over his shoulder at me. The sheer, black rage in his eyes sent a chill up my spine. I no longer feared for Sutton, but I was suddenly terrified for Keaton. “The crown is mine. You are mine. I’m about to show the world what happens when you fuck with a lion.”
Twenty-Five
Katie never answered my question. What did he do to make her run? I would find out soon enough, but it really didn’t matter because the minute she told me he tried to use her to get to me, I saw red. If Keaton or anyone else wanted my throne, they were welcome to come try to take it. The minute he involved Katie in a battle that was between us, he signed his death warrant. I had half a mind to dig up Matteo Bellizzi just so I could kill him again for making her feel like she had to repent for his sins. I already hated myself for ever thinking she was anything like him, and I would spend the rest of my life making that up to her if she let me. I left her villa and went straight to my office and made two phone calls. Then I leaned back in my chair and waited.
I twirled my pen between my fingers, fingers that still smelled like her, and rocked back and forth in my chair. It took twenty minutes for Keaton to storm through the door, which was about five minutes longer than I thought it would.
“I tried to see the king, but he was sadly… unavailable.” He emphasized the word king, and his eyes glinted a hint of amusement when he said unavailable.
Keep pushing buttons, motherfucker, and you will see me come unhinged. He marked his calendar with this ass whipping the day he staked his claim on what was mine.
“Any idea why there’s a guard outside my room?” he questioned. The leather chair creaked when I rocked back and matched the wicked glare he threw at me.
“He’s there to escort you to the gate.” I rolled the pen across my knuckles. “After you get your things, of course.” My cell phone buzzed against my desk. I glanced at the screen. Mom. I ignored it. She was probably calling to explain the Cruella Deville moment she had in my office earlier, and I could only deal with one villain at a time. Right now, that villain was Keaton.