Page 54 of Reckless King

“Never.”

My mouth snaps shut and I tilt my head. “You’ve never been with someone at the club? That doesn’t seem likely.”

A muscle pulses in his jaw. “I’ve been with women at the club. Not as often as you probably think, and not recently. Except for you.”

I digest that information, caught between confusion and relief. “Then what do you mean never?”

“The club has always been an easy way to scratch an itch when I don’t want to deal with being recognized. That’s not what it was about when I was with you. I had no intention of being with anyone that night. I was there strictly for business. But when I saw you come in, I couldn’t resist.” His eyes darken, his voice lowering, becoming rougher as he continues. “I wanted to know about you. Why you were there, how I could help you relax. What I could do to make you mine for the night.That’snever happened before.”

My heart beats wildly. It pounds so hard against my ribs I’m sure he can hear it.Whydo his words affect me so intensely? Part of me wants to write off his confession as a line he’d give to anyone, but I can’t. What reason does he have to lie? And if he’s lying, then why is he watching me with such an unwavering intensity?

Tate’s familiar smile—the one I’ve always considered cocky but am beginning to realize screams of justified self-confidence—is slow and knowing. He sees exactly what he’s doing to me. Before I can unscramble my brain and come up with a coherent response, Jeremy opens my door for me.

Outside the car, the patrons in line are staring and murmuring, probably wondering if a celebrity will appear. While I wait for Tate to join me, I shuffle my feet and keep my face averted. Somehow, this moment is worse than when the photographers were lined up along the red carpet at the gala. As if the scrutiny of my peers is more meaningful than the impartial camera lens.

When Tate takes his place by my side, his too perceptive eyes sweep over me, then move to the line of hopefuls waiting to get a seat in the restaurant.

He cups my jaw, and his seductive lips curve up. “They’re staring at you because you look stunning. Hold your head up, butterfly. Show them what you’re made of.”

I lick my lips and nod, suddenly fixated on his proximity rather than the people watching.

He brushes a thumb over my bottom lip, following the path my tongue just took. For a moment I struggle to draw in oxygen, and I’m hit with a new worry. Will I have to kiss him again tonight? The possibility makes my knees wobble.

When he clasps my hand, I can’t help but examine where we’re connected. My hand looks so small wrapped in his, and I like the sensation far too much. I must be starved of affectionfrom a man if such a simple gesture feels this good. Or maybe it’s the strange sense of security that winds its way through my chest at his touch. Something I’m beginning to realize I haven’t felt in far too long. It was completely missing in my relationship with Eric.

Just another warning sign I missed.

Side by side, we make our way into the lavish restaurant. The kitchen is open to the dining area, allowing patrons to view chefs skillfully preparing gourmet dishes. A staircase at the far end leads up to the attached bar that has its own street-facing entrance to allow people to enter without passing through the restaurant.

A pretty hostess meets us, a big smile on her face. “Mr. King. We’re so glad to see you back here again.”

She leads us to a booth at the back. The table is covered in a white tablecloth, and flickering candles add to the already warm atmosphere. Tate finally lets go of my hand so I can slide in. But instead of settling into the opposite seat, he slides in right beside me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

TATE

Confusion flashes across Violet’s face. “What are you doing?”

I sit close, draping my arm along the back of the booth so that my sleeve brushes her bare shoulders. “People come here to see as well as be seen. And what I want them to see is that I’m so crazy about my girlfriend that I can’t handle leaving any space between us.”

She rolls her eyes and lets out a disbelieving laugh. But she also doesn’t move away, so I take it as a victory.

A waiter appears next to the table and hands us menus. “Can I offer you a drink before ordering?”

I look at Violet. “Do you have a preference, or would you like me to choose a bottle?”

“You can order.”

“A bottle ofCharmes Chambertin Grand Cru, please,” I say to the waiter.

His face lights up. “Very good, sir. I’ll be back shortly to take your order.”

Violet is studying the menu, but since I could list each item on it without looking, I study her instead. She looks beautiful. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, which are bare except for the thin red straps of her dress. The one that clings to her body ina way that makes me want to peel it off her so I can run my hands along the bare curves beneath. With her eyes cast down, her long lashes almost brush her cheekbones. And those full pink lips of hers? They look as soft as they’ve felt under mine every time I’ve kissed her. Before I can stop the direction of my thoughts, I’m imagining how they’d feel wrapped around my dick.

Fuck. The organ in question swells and jerks as more imagined situations and sensations flare to life in my mind: the heat of her mouth on me, the silken slide of her tongue, her body writhing under me, damp with sweat after I’ve teased her for hours, the way she’d clench around my cock when I finally let her come.

Jesus.

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