Page 40 of Brazen King

They weren’t sinfully attractive Irishmen who knew how to make my body come alive. And they certainly weren’t Killian King.

Sighing, I slip out onto the Brooklyn street and blend in with the pedestrians on their way home for the night.

It won’t be too far to walk to Killian’s estate from here, and I’d rather take my time. I don’t want to seem too eager about getting there. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel a flicker of anticipation at what awaits me there.

The night air is crisp in the early part of spring, the warmth from the day melting into the sidewalk as the cool darkness settles in. And my flats pad softly along the hard cement, though I take up a brisk pace.

Some fathers might worry about letting their daughters walk the streets of New York alone at night. But not mine. Tatiana might be another story. She’s too recognizable. I’ve made a practice of fading into the background. I’m the less eye-catching, less important younger daughter of Boris Sokolov. Which makes me far less of a target.

And no petty criminal would stand a chance against me. Here, on the neighborhood streets of Brooklyn Heights, I won’trun into anyone I can’t handle. In truth, there are few people in this world Icouldn’thandle.

It just so happens that Killian is one.

And it drives me crazy to know I can’t best him—even as it excites me to think about trying again. Though I refuse to admit that it’s because of what comes after…

Night has fully fallen by the time I reach the front entrance of his gated community. And I slip behind the shrubbery surrounding the high walls so I can swap out my dressy green tunic shirt for a formfitting black one that will serve as the top half of my bodysuit tonight.

I pull it from my bag, quickly trading shirts and slipping my mask on before slinging my backpack over my shoulders once more. Then I find the now-familiar foot and handholds that will get me up and over the community wall in under five minutes.

Sticking to the shadows, I stalk from one yard to the next. It’s earlier than I’ve tried breaking in before. But the area seems to be a quiet one. And most houses are dark aside from a few bedroom lights along the way.

Things get significantly more complicated as soon as I step onto Killian’s property. With ten men on constant patrol, I have to time my infiltration just right. Otherwise, they’ll spot me even if I’m dressed to blend in with the night. Because the spotlights that cast out across the lawn shift and move to the slightest motion. Like a prison system, only to keep intruders out.

I take my time, watching and waiting. And to my right, the waves that break against the rocky beach soothe me, telling me there’s no rush. I have all night. I could get used to that sound. So calm and reassuring. I can see why Killian picked this mansion for his home.

It hardly feels like we’re in the city out here. And yet, within ten minutes, I could be in the middle of Brooklyn’s bustling nightlife.

Movement catches my eye on the second floor—Killian entering his bedroom from the bathroom. Shirtless, which he always seems to be when he’s in his room. A fact I don’t seem to mind. Dark ink colors his broad, muscular chest and shoulders, traveling all the way down his arms to the backs of his knuckles. The art follows the lines of his body perfectly, accentuating just how fit and powerful he is.

And I swallow hard to avoid having to admit that the sight of him makes my mouth water.

I’m so distracted momentarily that I almost miss the perfect opportunity to make my move.

But I drag my eyes away from his lit window just in time to spot my opening.

I quickly sprint across the lawn at a crouch.

The lights follow me, chasing my trail but just a second too late.

I make it to the shadows beneath his balcony just before the next guard rounds the corner. I duck low, hiding behind the bush that’s barely big enough to block me from view. Holding my breath, I remain perfectly still and silent until the guard is gone. Then I swiftly unfold my body and lightly jump up, catching the edge of the balcony with my fingertips.

Bringing my feet up, I curl my body until I can feel the concrete balustrade above me. Then I hook one knee around the pillar and twist. As soon as I can reach it, I grasp the railing. And in one swift move, I pull myself up and over. Then I drop onto the balcony floor, dipping behind the ledge before anyone can spot me.

I take a moment to catch my breath, scanning out across the yard to ensure no one is raising the alarm. Then I keep low as I creep toward the sliding glass door of Killian’s room.

It opens willingly tonight—no need to pick the lock.

But as soon as the gap is wide enough for me to slip inside, a large, rough hand catches mine, pulling me through the doorway.

I gasp as my palms connect with Killian’s sculpted chest. One strong arm wraps around my waist, and two fingers hook beneath my mask. Green eyes burn into mine as he pulls my disguise off in one fluid motion, tossing it aside. Then his lips find mine, searing against my skin as he kisses me passionately.

“What took you so long?” he demands, holding me firmly against his marble-carved body.

“Did you miss me?” I tease to mask the butterflies that erupt in my stomach. But the breathy sound of my voice gives me away.

He chuckles darkly and scoops me into his arms. “You have no idea.”

And without bothering to turn off the lights, he deposits me on his bed.

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