Page 27 of Deny Me
So she could delude herself. She knew it, and anyone else who became aware of those little trips would know it too. The King standing behind her wasn’t a delusion, but the fantasy she’d built around him for those few, precious moments in his arms definitely was. She couldn’t fall into that trap, only for him to walk away when this was all over. And he would walk away when he found out her secret. She knew, without a doubt, that giving herself to him now could release every ounce of love she’d harbored secretly in her heart for a decade.
But loving him with every fiber of her being couldn’t make up for all the things she couldn’t give him.
Realizing that her hand was rubbing at her chest, trying to ease the ache, she dropped it. “Mom, just a moment, please.” She nudged her chin toward the door. “I’ll be inside in just a second.”
Her mother hesitated, and Charlotte held her breath. Then with one last murderous glance at King, Mom turned back to the guest suite. Only when the door had banged shut—not a slam; Kim Alexander was too refined for a slam, but something pretty darn close—did Charlotte let her breath out, steel herself, and turn to face King.
His hands rested at the small of his back, his legs shifted out the slightest bit—parade rest. It was easy to forget King had been trained as a cop first and mercenary second—she hadn’t known him as a cop, after all—but that stance was unmistakable.
His blond hair held grooves as if he’d shoved his hands through it, but that was the only sign of emotion. His blue eyes, so light they still startled her sometimes, held her own, his mouth was relaxed, and the ridge she’d so clearly felt and saw had disappeared from behind his zipper.
That wasn’t disappointment zinging through her stomach; it just wasn’t.
I can’t talk about that kiss.She wanted to have the courage to face her choices, wanted to be able to act as if having his mouth on hers hadn’t blasted to pieces all the shields she’d built around her heart for so many years, but she simply couldn’t. So she turned to the next best thing.
“Wes is not involved in this, King.”
“We have to eliminate all suspects.”
“And it doesn’t hurt that this particular ‘suspect’ happens to be interested in me?”
Of course it doesn’t, because you don’t care about me anymore, do you?Why did she feel this need to drive him to say it? Why couldn’t she simply let it go and walk away?
“I’m not jealous of my cousin, Charlotte.”
“Of course not.”
She could hear the skepticism in her words.
King dropped his hands and stalked toward her, his expression so intent she found herself scrambling back to avoid him. When she hit the wall at the end of the hallway, it left her with nowhere else to go.
Trapped. With King closing the distance far too fast for her comfort.
He got right into her face, the faint scent of his aftershave hitting her like a blow. “I am not jealous of Wes. There’s no reason for me to be jealous.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, then met hers again. “Want to know why?”
She swallowed hard. “Why?” she rasped.
One calloused finger rose to stroke across the sensitive skin of her lips, sending a tingle of sensation through them. “This is why I’m not jealous, Charlotte. Because, even after all these years,thiscan still bring us both to our knees. No one else has ever done that for me, and I know they haven’t for you either. So no, I’m not jealous.” A light tap against her mouth and King was gone, striding down the hall, his words ringing in her ears.
King, brought to his knees?Weird way of showing it, dude.
Had he really been affected by their kiss? She’d assumed she could read him, that whatever key she’d held so long ago that unlocked the man within was still hers to wield. How could it be? King knew how to protect himself, how to keep his secrets safe. Maybe he was just as shocked by the strength of their renewed attraction as she had been.
Or maybe he was using their chemistry for some other reason, but what?
She didn’t know and wished she did. Wished she wasn’t so confused by everything that surrounded her right now. She—
The alarm directly above her head blared without warning, scaring the shit out of her. King paused at the opposite end of the corridor, raised his head to the matching alarm overhead, then jerked around to race back to her. “Come with me!”
She forced her frozen limbs to move. Her brain couldn’t think past the shriek of the alarms; instinct alone guided her to King and the safety he offered. With a quick push, he got her inside the guest suite and closed and locked the door. Before she could turn around, he had his phone to his ear, hopefully dialing Dain.
“Status,” he barked. She’d never heard him use that tone before. She’d also never seen him in a dangerous situation before, so why was she surprised? Shock. Fear. Her mind was a jumble of both, and the noise exaggerated it tenfold.
A quick glance told her Becky was huddled on the couch with Charlotte’s mom, the two of them staring at King with wide eyes. Charlotte crossed to Becky’s side.
King grunted a couple of times, then clicked off the call. His gaze met hers, and something hard twisted into knots inside her stomach. “What is it?” she asked.
King’s mouth tightened. Pocketing his cell phone, he said, “We have an intruder.”
