Page 8 of Kingston
Elliot’s breathing is unsteady at best, and goose bumps have risen on her flesh. I know from the way she smells that if I were to pry these legs apart and dive between her thighs, she’d be all slick and wet for me.
“Oof!” Out of nowhere, her knees have shot up, ramming into the bottom of my rib cage, stealing the air from my lungs. I let out another strangled noise and stumble backward, bent at the waist and clutching my abdomen. Caught in a lusty fog, I give myself a shake before I look up to find her scrambling to get away from me.
“Get out. Get out right now,” she seethes from between clenched teeth. Her eyes are wild and fearful, but her voice is determined.
I’ll give her this one. She’s had enough for one night. Whipping off my shirt, I toss it at her so she has something to wear, then eye her carefully, nod, and walk out of the room, shutting the door behind me with a snap.
That knees to my torso stunt? It makes me want her even more.
SIX
ARCHER
What a fucking night.I tip a bottle of beer to my lips, drinking down the ice-cold beverage. Leave it to fucking Cannon to bust up a party—not that pledge night is a party, per se. What I mean is, for most of the group, the spectacle with him interrupting Elliot’s striptease and hoisting her over his shoulder like a caveman wasn’t something they’d seen coming. Little did they know it’d been brewing from the instant Cannon saw her in the foyer. He doesn’t bother with relationships with women very much, he’s more of a fuck ’em and leave ’em kind of guy. They need more from him than he’s able to give—or willing to give, anyway.
I’d seen it in his eyes immediately with Elliot, though. He’d latched onto her like some sort of lovesick parasite. To me, that’s insane. He doesn’t have the first clue who she really is. But man, does he already want her.
I shake my head, my mind caught up in the unexpected arrival of this woman who has thrown our brotherhood into turmoil. She’s different and either really fucking brave or really fucking stupid to march in here like she has. Bold. I have to admire the guts it took to do that, but I’m holding my opinion of her in reserve until we know her better. Something feels off, and it’s not the fact that she’s not ahe.I grind my teeth, irritated that I can’t put my finger on it.
Swiveling back and forth on a stool at the kitchen island, I try to process everything that happened tonight: her arrival, the discussion in the living room, her willingly taking off her clothing for us. The only conclusion I’ve come to so far is as long as she’s accepted the fact that she’ll have to put up with a bunch of rowdy assholes, she can stay. More power to her, I guess.
As I’m downing the remainder of my beer, Kingston walks into the kitchen, tugging on the back of his neck as he’s prone to do when he’s stressed out. “Hey. Everyone hit the sack?”
He eyes me and the third drink I’ve had since everyone else went to bed, but he can fuck right off. It’s been an evening. I ignore the look he’s giving me and nod, licking an errant drop of beer from my lower lip. “Mostly. Taggart, Zeke, and Dane went to their rooms. Zeke and Dane thought after everything that went down tonight, they’d give Taggart a chance to settle in.”
“Stuart, Joel, and Alec?”
“We were so focused on Elliot earlier that after they toted Bridger’s things to his room, they stayed downstairs to play a couple rounds of pool with him before turning in. Getting to know him, I guess. It’s been quiet for a while, though, so they’ve probably called it quits.”
The juniors have their rooms in the basement, the sophomores are here on the main floor, and the seniors have always taken their residence on the second floor. Our rooms upstairs have amazing views, a perk of being fourth-year members of the brotherhood. Kingston’s and Elliot’s rooms overlook the grounds of the university while Cannon and I have windows off the back of the house, looking out over the yard and the forest beyond. It’s pretty serene. In fact, I spend a lot of time in the massive chair next to the window. When I need to get away from the world, I sit there and daydream (in an effort to center myself), and when that doesn’t work, a little whiskey usually does the trick. It is what it is. Sometimes it’s the only way I can get my mind to quiet the noise.
My thoughts are interrupted by Kingston’s huffed growl. “I guess Cannon and I are going to bring Elliot’s luggage and whatever other bullshit she’s got in her car upstairs.”
I grimace, rubbing my jaw in thought. “She’s locked herself in her room?”
“Yep. He won’t say what the hell happened up there, but he came down without his shirt.”
My eyebrow quirks involuntarily. I’ve never known Cannon to be one to shy away from something he wants… unless, of course, it requires that he talk to someone. What the fuck happened up there? I work my jaw back and forth. If he’s getting in deep already, I need more information. We need to know what makes this chick tick… and fast.
Kingston pauses, his eyes searching mine. “What?”
“Well, I’m wondering if she’s got an iPad in her luggage.” I jerk my head toward the small purse she’d brought in with her. “Her phone is in her bag.”
He gives me a semi-amused smirk. “You already have a look?”
A shit-eating grin curves my lips. “You know me. I can’t resist.” I shrug. “It’s always easier to get a passcode from an iPad. You know—if we want to keep tabs on her.”
He rubs his hand over his jaw. “Yeah. Not a bad idea.” His brow furrows. “But how is the iPad easier? Or will I not understand a damn word of the technology mumbo jumbo you’re about to spew?”
“Oh, it’s pretty simple, I promise.” I wink as I hold up one finger. “Smudge marks. I’ll probably be able to figure out the numbers in her passcode from where she’s touched the screen. Phones are only harder because we’re all over those screens. But with an iPad, the oils from her fingers are usually highly concentrated on those spots on the screen.”
Kingston shakes his head, scowling, then grits, “Do what you have to, I guess.”
“I know you’re pissed, but I figure it could come in handy, you know?” I blow out a breath, hoping he sees reason. He may not want her here, but he’s the one who said she’s here to stay. We’d better fuckin’ be ready.
His jaw locks for a moment as he bends at the waist, resting his forearms on the counter, and peers at me. His hands are clasped together so tightly his knuckles are close to white. “I still can’t fuckin’ believe this. The more I think about it, the more I don’t want her here.”
“We’re kinda stuck with her, though.”
