Page 34 of Wild Card (Advantage Play 1)

“Tell me,” he repeats, reminding me of his request.

Breathing deep, I push forward. “If you know my history like you say you do, then you know he took my mom. That he likely did all those things you just explicitly mentioned to her. And that he left me alone and without a mom for my teenage years, only to be raised by a bunch of assholes in the foster care system who only cared about their monthly paycheck.” I swallow, dropping my gaze to his mouth because I’m a coward and don’t have the courage to hold his stare as I finish. “The only way I could figure out how to exact an ounce of revenge on that sonofabitch was to wound his pride before I stole some of his pocket change and disappeared into thin air. That was my plan.”

Kingston’s arms drop to his sides, releasing me from my prison. But he doesn’t step back, and his menacing presence is still enough to cage me against the wall behind me. “You’re brave, Ace, but it won’t work. You don’t know who you’re dealing with. Burlone has never lost a game of poker. Sure, a hand here and there, but that’s it. He always comes back.”

If only he knew that I’ve done my research. That I know every tiny detail about the guy. I’m not stupid, and I’ve taken every precaution I can to succeed.

“No offense, Kingston, but I know exactly who I’m dealing with. He’s never played against me.”

“Truth,” Kingston admits. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you just put a big ass target on your back. And that’s the last thing you want with a guy like him. The alias you gave the concierge was shit. My guy was able to see through it in about five minutes. He created something a little more solid for Macey Johnson’s background, but you need to be careful.”

The thinly-veiled concern in his voice makes me pause. No one cares about me. Sure, there are Dottie and Gigi, but even they don’t know the details of what I’ve been through, and why my walls were built in the first place.

Raising my chin, I ask, “Why do you care?”

The silence is palpable as his penetrating eyes bounce around every inch of my face. I can feel him searching for something; I just don’t know what it is. Honestly, I don’t know if he knows what he’s searching for, either, but I don’t cower under his scrutiny. I stand to my full height until there’s less than an inch of space between the two of us, leaving only enough room for my fingers to continue their fidgeting.

After a moment, he murmurs, “You’re able to get through Sin’s doors without anyone suspecting a thing.”

Bullshit. He could find plenty of people who could walk into Sin without anyone batting an eye.

Licking my lips, I push, “So that’s it?”

“Yeah.” Again, his tone is laced with indifference as his minty breath brushes against my cheeks. And for some reason, the response grates on my nerves. I go to release the fabric from my fingers that I’d been playing with when he grabs my wrist to keep me from letting his shirt go.

“Let me go,” I grit out.

Ignoring my plea, he asks, “Do you trust me?”

With furrowed brows, I ask myself the same thing. Do I trust him? I barely know him. But that doesn’t stop the way I feel when I’m around him. When I think about him. Hell, as soon as I feel his presence in my tiny apartment, an overwhelming need to press his buttons, to peel back every layer that makes up the man in front of me, and to dissect every single word that comes out of his mouth consumes me.

“No,” I admit quietly. “But I think I want to.”

Silence.

That’s all I get in reply as he doesn’t move a muscle. Not a twitch. Not a flinch. Nothing. Until seconds later, the word, “Truth,” slips from his mouth before his lips connect with mine.

My entire body is frozen, my mind trying to catch up to what the hell is happening. And then it hits me. His mouth––Kingston’s mouth––is on mine. And for the first time in my life, I don’t feel indifference toward physical touch. I feel heat. And passion. And lust.

I feel everything.

From the top of my head to the tips of my toes, I feel it all. And I don’t want it to stop.

As soon as the realization hits, my body jolts into action as he guides me through the kiss. My eyes slide closed, and I part my lips on a sigh. I’m kissing Kingston Romano. A satisfied Kingston takes the lead by dipping his tongue into my mouth like I’m a decadent dessert before slipping back out and repeating the motion all over again.

I never would’ve guessed Kingston would taste this good. I never would’ve guessed anyone would taste this good. But he does. And I want more. Parting my mouth farther, I decide it’s my turn for a taste and mimic his movements. With a slide of my tongue, I come to the obvious conclusion that I like kissing Kingston, and I should definitely do it more often. How the hell we got from him yelling at me, to me defending myself, and back to him asking if I trust him or not before finally landing on a toe-curling kiss, I’ll never know. But I like it––a lot.

With a groan, he crowds me against the wall before I feel his hands slowly press into my lower back. The heat from his palms nearly brands me through my hoodie before he lifts the hem and brushes his calloused fingertips across the sliver of skin from my jeans to my top. The unfamiliar touch nearly brings me to my knees, creating goosebumps that pebble my skin.

With a triumphant smile, Kingston pulls away and peppers kisses along my jaw and neck. “You like that, Ace?” he murmurs against my skin. “You like when I touch you?”

“Yes,” I moan, not caring how desperate I sound. Twisting my fingers into his shirt, I tug him closer until my front is plastered to his, then wrap my arms around his lower back. I feel like I’ve run a marathon with the way my heart is racing, but I don’t care.

He chuckles then dives in for another heated kiss, our tongues dueling for dominance. Pulling away, he looks down at me with a cocky grin that’s been stripped of his usual armor. “Truth.”

“Shut up and kiss me.” I tug him closer before wrapping one of my legs around his and tilting my hips toward him. I’m desperate. I know I am. But I’ve never felt like this before. Not when I’m around anyone else. It’s not a want. The feeling pulsing through me is so much stronger than that. I need some relief, and I need him to give it to me.

Thankfully, Kingston complies without argument, shoving me back against the wall before grabbing my ass and picking me up. With an open mouth, I nearly scream with relief as soon as he grinds into me. His fingers bruise my thighs as he holds me in place, taking me to a height I’ve never known. The realization that my clothes are still on, yet he’s still zeroed in on the perfect spot is enough evidence to prove he knows what he’s doing.

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