THE LAST KING
IS FINALLY HERE.
“Just so we’re clear, I want you to f*ck me, Jase—” He repeats what I said to him yesterday afternoon in the elevator, right before he makes a noise in the back of his throat, something caught between a choking sound and a laugh. “trust me, Philly, if anything were to lead me to believe that your intentions toward me are anything less than honorable, it would be that mouth of yours— not where you choose to sleep at night.” When he says it, my cheeks go hot and God help me, my mouth opens again, ready to start fumbling out another apology but he stops me before I can get a word out. “And just so we’re clear—Taylor is nice. She’s too nice for her own good—but she isn’t my girlfriend. She’s a dancer at one of my clubs that I used to f*ck on occasion—used to because whatever the hell I was doing with her ended the second I realized who I was looking at in Keaton’s office yesterday.” He says it quietly, his tone held barely above a whisper as he moves closer, so close he’s standing over me and I can feel the warmth of his breath against my flushed cheek. “And another thing we need to be clear about—” Jase lifts a hand and my heart starts to flutter in my chest when I feel his fingertips trace the taut line of my neck before slipping around the back of it. “you need to watch what you say to me.” His warning sends a wave of panic, swirling through my belly.
“Why?” I don’t know what it is, bravery or stupidity, that has me looking up to find him watching me. Those angel blue eyes of his no longer dull and flat, they’re sharp enough to cut and aimed right at me.
“Because I don’t know where the line is with you anymore,” he confesses softly, his sharp blue gaze slicing its way through mine. “I can’t track it and every time you say you want me, every time you look at me the way you’re looking at me now, I forget who I am and I can’t do that. I can’t forget. Not with you.”
“Who are you, Jase?” I whisper, pulse fluttering wildly under the firm press of his palm against my throat, my gaze dropping to his mouth because I’m suddenly sure he’s going to kiss me again and this time, there won’t be anything chaste or grandmotherly about it. This time, when Jase kisses me, it’s going to be real and hot enough to destroy us both.
Moving slowly, he sways into me and my eyes slip closed again, neck straining to angle itself in his grip so I can catch the press of his mouth against mine. “I’m a man who’s barely hanging on,” he whispers back, the soft brush of his words against my cheek followed by his lips, the soft press of them, there and gone, before I can even open my eyes. “You don’t sleep on the floor, Philly—” He strokes the pad of his thumb along the curve of my jawline, the tip of it brushing against the corner of my mouth. “you sleep in my bed, do you understand?”
“Yes.” I nod, my eyes opening slowly to find him watching me. “I understand.”
“That makes one of us,” he says quietly, a moment before he lets go of me completely and walks away
- THE KINGS OF BRIGHTON: JASE