Page 103 of By His Vow

“Sorry I’m late,” Kingston says, his voice all deep and sexy.

I stare at him in disbelief as he slips his jacket off and places it on the back of the chair before lowering himself into it.

Not a word is said around our table as he reaches up and releases his tie a little, undoing his top button as if he plans on getting comfortable.

He might still look irritatingly hot, but he’s not quite as put together as he was this morning. I get lost for a few seconds, watching as he rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, exposing his strong, corded forearms before my eyes lift to his face.

He didn’t shave this morning, so now he’s sporting more than just a hint of a five o’clock shadow. His hair is messy, as if he’s spent half the day dragging his fingers through it. And his lips?—

“What the fuck are you doing?” I finally blurt, forcing myself to stop checking him out.

Our server comes over and places a glass of scotch before him.

“Thank you,” he says, immediately reaching for it and bringing the glass to his lips. “Can I please have a glass of red wine with my steak?” he asks, not even bothering to say what red he wants.

The server nods and scurries away to do his bidding.

“I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “Who exactly invited you?”

He’s about to answer when another thought hits me.

“How did you even know we were here?”

A smirk spreads across his lips.

“You’re soon to be my wife, baby. I know everything.”

“I’m not sure if that’s sweet or borderline stalker,” Lori mutters into her glass before swallowing a huge mouthful of prosecco.

Kingston follows her lead and swallows his scotch in one.

“Here you go, sir,” the server says, appearing with his wine and pouring a little into his glass so he can approve it.

He swirls it like an asshole before sniffing it.

My eyes collide with Lori’s.

‘Give me strength,’ I mouth, much to her amusement.

“Fantastic as always, thank you,” Kingston says, cutting through our silent conversation.

“Your steak will be just a few moments,” she assures him before disappearing again.

“Good choice, ladies,” he says before taking another sip of his wine. “So what are we talking about?” He looks between the two of us as if he’s seriously expecting us to continue like he didn’t just interrupt us.

When neither of us responds, instead just staring at him in shock, he figures out his answer.

“Ah, I see,” he muses. “Lorelei, did Tatum tell you just how much she enjoyed her first night in our apartment?”

My cheeks burn at the insinuation.

“I hear you have pink scatter cushions and a blanket,” Lori deadpans. “Didn’t see you as a blanket kind of man, I’ve got to say.”

“Never judge a book by its cover, Lorelei,” he says as his dinner arrives. “Please...” He gestures to our half-eaten meals. “Don’t stop on my account.”

He picks up his knife and fork and dives in while we continue to stare at each other.

‘Sorry,’ I mouth to my best friend.

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