Page 25 of Reckless King

Fuck.

When I find her again, my gaze lingers on the sway of her hips. I shouldn’t be thinking about that. I shouldn’t stare at her ass and remember the way it filled my hands. I shouldn’t imagine having her at my mercy and fucking all that fire out of her until she’s warm and limp and pliant underneath me.

And what I definitely shouldn’t do is catch her arm just before she and her friend walk off the dance floor to leave—or slide my hand around the nape of her neck. But I do it anyway. Then I lean in close and lower my voice so only she can hear me. “If I’d known it was you last weekend, I would never have touched you. But if you think for one second that I regret experiencing the way you came all over my fingers, then you’re mistaken.”

Her lips part on a gasp, and her pupils flare in response to my words. I’m so damn tempted to say fuck it, forget the fact that she’s Mark’s sister, and kiss her, prove to her she doesn’t dislike me quite as much as she likes to think she does. That she never has. But I restrain myself. I’ve been irresponsible too often in the past, and I’m determined to do things differently. Knowingly kissing my friend’s—and lawyer’s—little sister in the middle of a sex club is the definition of irresponsible.

I may have made her come a week ago, but kissing her like this wouldn’t be about anonymous sex. It would be something else—something more. And that’s one thing I never let myself do.

So instead, I allow myself a single brush of my thumb along her jaw.

Then I let her go.

CHAPTER TWELVE

TATE

First thing Monday morning, I saunter into Roman’s office and throw myself onto the leather couch next to Cole. Stretching my legs out and lacing my hands together over my stomach, I arch my brows and look from him to Roman, who’s sitting across the coffee table from us with an expression even more severe than usual on his face.

“What’s the emergency?” I ask.

The second I stepped foot in the office this morning, my PA, Sophie, informed me that Roman needed to see me immediately.

He leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “Something’s happened.” From the frown on his face, it’s not a positive something.

With a groan, I tip my head back. “Why does it feel like we’re always putting out fires around here?”

“Because people keep starting them,” Roman snaps.

His tone has me straightening and side-eyeing my other brother, who’s also looking a little too serious for my liking. “What’s going on?”

Roman rubs his forehead, then glances at Cole. “You tell him.”

Cole presses a button on the laptop sitting on the table in front of him and angles the screen toward me so I can read it.

I frown down at the headline, which screams out at me.Royal Flirt? King Caught Cozying Up to UK Envoy’s Queen!

Beneath it is a photo of me with a familiar red-haired woman. Serena Worthington, former supermodel and current wife of the British ambassador to the US. She’s also a woman I fucked once. It was years ago, long before she met her husband, and I haven’t touched her since. Not that anyone could tell that from the photo. No, in the image, Serena appears to be pressed up against me, her hand on my arm. Our faces are turned toward each other, only inches apart. It would be easy to assume that we were moments away from kissing.

“What the fuck?” I growl.

“Please tell me it’s not what it looks like,” Cole says, his voice tight. “Because you realize the ambassador’s brother sits on London’s Planning and Development Committee, right? Piss him off, and our upcoming London developments could be faced with any number of unnecessary delays.”

Ignoring the tension that knots my back at his lack of faith in me, I shake my head. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“Then what the fuck is it?” Roman asks.

I scrub my hand over my face. “This was at the British art exhibition at the MET the other week. The one you insisted I attend. We were just talking. She told me she had information on one of the European real estate conglomerates looking to sell off some of its holdings. When I asked her for details, she said she’d prefer no one know she gave me the information. Then she leaned in and whispered it in my ear. It was completely fucking innocent.”

“That’s not how it looks.” Frustration colors Roman’s tone. “Especially given your reputation.”

I narrow my eyes, the tension transforming into aggravation. “My reputation? You mean the one everyone keeps throwing in my face, even though I’ve spent day after day proving that’s not who I am anymore?”

“It’s not?” he asks. “Then you wouldn’t mind telling us where you disappeared to two weekends ago when you should have been at the gala, would you?” His gaze pierces into me.

I take a deep breath in through my nose and focus on keeping my composure. “I got bored and left. I’ve gone to every single event you’ve pointed me at over the last few months, so excuse me for wanting to have an early night for once.”

“And you’re telling me that night didn’t end with you balls deep in a woman?”

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