Page 33 of The Hotshot vs The Reporter

Still... I wanted to be there.

He follows me inside, and I close the door behind him as Mickey circles his feet, checking him out. Royal seems happy to see the kitten—or maybe he’s looking for a distraction—and scoops her up quickly. Watching him cuddling Mickey to his chest, I direct him into the living room, and we both take a seat on opposite sides of my sofa.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” I have to ask him, my eyes sweeping over his handsome face. He looks tired, but otherwise okay and still completely, devastatingly handsome.

“I’m fine.” He looks around the room, his eyes taking in every detail. “I really do like your house. It’s comfy.”

I smile at that and agree. “That it is. Thank you.”

“It feels safe.”

I cock my head to the side and want to ask him more about that statement—because surely, his house is safe. He has a gate and a security system—probably the best one money can buy.

But I bite my tongue, not wanting to go into the reporter role and scare him off.

“Royal... why are you here?”

He’s petting my kitten, who’s curled up on his lap, but he looks agitated. “I want to give you a real interview.” I open my mouth to ask him if he’s sure, but then he adds, “Off-camera.”

I nod slowly because that’s fine. “O-kay. Did Jenny want you to do this today or something? Because she didn’t say anything, and I’m sure you’re tired after your flight and your weekend.”

“I’m fine, and no, it wasn’t Jenny.” He still looks nervous, and I want to take it away. “What do you want to ask?” His eyes meet mine, his expression pulled tight and his body rigid.

He looks like he’s about to be executed, not interviewed.

And while, okay, that might have given me some pleasure weeks ago, now I’m not really enjoying it at all.

“What’s off-limits?” I ask, trying to offer some sort of comfort, but he doesn’t relax.

“Nothing.”

Mickey must sense the tension because she jumps down and heads out of the room. I use the opportunity to move closer to him on the couch, not enough so our legs are touching, but almost. “Royal, you don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.”

“No.” He shakes his head, his agitation only growing. “That’s not how you do this, Soren. You’re a reporter, through and through. What do you want to know?”

I don’t answer him because I don’t think it’s a real question.

He confirms it when he continues, his voice strained. “Ask me what you really want to. I mean what will make me more human, huh?” I don’t speak. I wait forhimto. “How about the fact that no one ever gave me a damn thing? That I had to work my ass off for everything I’ve ever had. I had to scrape my way to the top.”

My heart is pounding in my chest, and I shift a little, my knee touching his thigh, but neither of us react.

“How about that I learned really damn early that nothing would ever be handed to me? That nothing would ever be easy. That I couldn’t be weak. I couldn’t ever show I was feeling weak. I had to be strong.”

“Royal,” I say, barely recognizing my own voice because it’s hoarse, my throat swelling with the pain I can feel coming off him.

He just shakes his head, closing his eyes tightly. “No one wanted me. Not ever. I had to make my own way.”

I move closer to him and brush a hand over the stubble on his cheek. His eyes don’t open, but he doesn’t pull away from me either. “Is that true?”

I know in my heart it is, but I need to hear it from him. His eyes open, and they meet mine, his hand wrapping around my wrist, but not pulling me away from his face. “Yes.”

“Royal,” I say again softly, hating the agony of his words. Not knowing why he felt that way or why he’s struggled so much, but it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t do it. I know it. But I still can’t help myself.

It’s meant to be a soft and gentle, brief kiss, and it starts out that way when I press my lips against his. But then he kisses me back. No hesitance.

None at all.

He kisses me hard and grips my wrist, pulling my body into his even more, and the kiss quickly heats up. His free hand moves to the back of my neck, gripping tight—not to the point of pain—but his strong grip holds me there as his tongue plunders my mouth.

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