Page 14 of Dark King (Advantage Play 2)

There’s something about the way he bosses me around. Maybe it’s his voice that sends tingles down my spine. Maybe it’s his quirked brow that begs me to challenge him. Regardless, my body obeys without a second thought. Making my way around the island, I stand with my arms at my sides and wait for my orders.

With a tomato in one hand and some garlic cloves in the other, Kingston wraps me in a warm hug and plants a soft kiss against my temple. “You look amazing today.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself. I like the apron, by the way. Very manly.”

He scrunches up his face teasingly before releasing me from our embrace and tossing the tomato at me.

When I catch it, he explains, “Red is a bitch to get out of white. Gotta cover up, Ace. It’s rule number one in the kitchen. Now, grab the cutting board over there and the knife from the knife block. Chop, chop.”

He smacks my butt for good measure, leaving me with teeth marks in my lower lip where I bit them in an attempt to keep myself from smiling so damn hard.

I like playful Kingston. I like him a lot.

I’m not sure I’ve ever seen this side of him before, but I’m pretty sure I’d do anything to keep him around, which is why I ask, “So you have rules, eh?”

After reaching for the cutting board, I put the tomato and garlic on top of it as I wait for his answer.

“Huh?”

“You said. ‘rule number one, gotta cover up in the kitchen.’” I mimic his voice, dropping mine down a few octaves which only makes him laugh.

“Is that what I sound like?”

I shrug before grabbing the knife and getting to work on this tomato, along with the three others he’s added to the stack.

“Pretty much but with a bossier tone. You should probably work on that.”

“But if I lost my bossy tone, how would I get my men to listen to me?” he counters.

“Good point. You’d probably have to look for a different profession. And let’s be honest…,”––I point the knife toward his covered torso––“I don’t see you pulling off the apron long-term.”

In retaliation, Kingston grabs a dish towel and whips it at my butt, snapping it against my jeans and making me squeal.

“Bullshit,” he argues. “We both know I pull off the apron like a master chef.”

“Maybe Betty Crocker,” I tease with a wink.

He laughs, throwing his head back and giving me a decent view of the long column of his throat along with a nice peek of his chest since the first two buttons on his shirt have been undone after a long day at work.

The normalcy of the moment is almost enough to make me forget the shitstorm we’re in. Right now, I can pretend we’re an ordinary couple making dinner after a day at the office. The thought makes me pause, and Kingston must notice my lack of contribution to the dish because I find his arms around my waist within seconds.

Resting his chin on my shoulder, he asks, “You okay?”

The sincerity seeping out of him makes me hesitate and search for the truth. I haven’t dared to ask myself if I’m okay because I’ve been too afraid of the answer. As his embrace tightens, I melt into him.

“No. I’m not okay. But I will be as soon as we kill Burlone. I want to thank you for tonight, though. For this.” I turn my head to look at him over my shoulder, and he smiles softly as I add, “This normalcy is exactly what I needed.”

“Anytime, Wild Card. So, what were you saying about my rules? Were you making fun of me?” He goes to tickle my sides when I stop him.

“No, never! I was just going to tell you that I have my own set of rules too.”

His hands drop from my ribs and press into the cool granite on either side of me instead.

“Oh, really? I’m intrigued. Let’s hear them.”

Setting down the knife, I turn around in his arms until he’s caging me against the center island.

“Rule number one: Keep your head down and your eyes up. It makes you invisible but not stupid.”

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