Coldhearted King: Chapter 30

When I walked past Tate’s office after my meeting and saw Delilah leaning over his desk, her ass cupped by her fitted dress, my jaw had clenched so tight I’m surprised the people walking next to me hadn’t heard my teeth grind together. What the fuck was my brother playing at? I’d been clear with him yesterday that he wasn’t to touch her, and the very next day he has her up in his office with her long legs and her tight skirt and her pretty green eyes.

As soon as I’d gotten off the phone with him, I’d been out my door and making an excuse to talk to Samson about something, just waiting for her to come down the corridor. I should probably question why I’m acting so irrationally about this when I’ve already decided it’s for the best, but I won’t. If Tate thinks I’ll let him have Delilah, he’s sadly mistaken.

She follows me into my office, and her sweet sunshine-and-wildflower scent teases me. A vivid image grows in my mind. In it, I turn and press her against the door, running my nose down the column of her throat and sucking on the tender skin at the base—marking her so that if Tate calls on her again, he’ll see my claim.

Which is fucking ridiculous. Delilah’s already made it clear that our arrangement is over.

I stalk to my desk, but I don’t round it to take my seat. Instead, I stand in front, with my arms crossed, while Delilah hovers near the doorway.

“Close the door,” I tell her.

She complies, her shoulders stiff, then she turns back to me.

“What did Tate want?” I ask.

Her brow furrows. “Didn’t he tell you on the phone?”

“I want to hear it from you.”

She tilts her head. “Do you think he was lying? Why would he? He’s your brother.”

I lean against my desk. “He and I don’t have the closest relationship. I’m not sure I trust him to tell me the truth,” I say, then wonder why I’ve divulged that to her.

“Well, that’s sad.” Genuine sympathy flashes across her face. She’s close to her mom, so maybe she doesn’t get what it’s like to be distant from your family members. But that’s how it is in families like ours. Love, affection, trust—they aren’t part of the equation.

“It’s just the way it is.” I try to get back on track. “So, tell me—”

“What about Roman?”

I stare at her. “What?”

“Are you closer to him?”

“No.”

“Maybe that explains it,” she says, almost to herself.

“Explains what?”

She shakes her head, as if realizing we’ve gotten distracted. She squares her shoulders. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

Her beautiful eyes are on mine, but there’s a shadow in them that wasn’t there before. Regret tugs at me again. I did that to her. Because she was right. I withheld the truth to get what I wanted. And what I wanted was her. If I’m honest with myself, I still want her. Against all of my personal fucking logic.

I was angry when I called her in here. Angry that Tate had her attention—that he was the recipient of her pretty smile when I wanted it directed at me.

But what did I expect? She’d called me on it yesterday. I’d hurt her, and I hadn’t even apologized. I’m not used to saying sorry, and it’s not something I particularly relish doing, but I’ve been less than honest with her when, as far as I know, she’s always been honest with me.

I force down my irrational anger and approach her slowly, as if she’s a wild creature that might leap away from me before I get a chance to touch her. Her throat moves in a swallow as I come to a stop in front of her, but she stays where she is as I invade her personal space.

I take a strand of her silky hair and let it slide through my fingers. “I’m sorry,” I murmur. “I should have told you the truth about Jessica.”

Her eyes widen. “Uh,” she says, clearly taken aback. “Y-yes, you should have.”

“It’s no excuse, but I don’t consider what Jessica and I have had in the past to be a relationship.”

“It didn’t look to me like it was in the past.”

I scowl as I remember Jessica’s behavior on Friday night. “That was all her. I didn’t invite it, and I didn’t want it. She was annoyed because I turned down our usual arrangement, and decided it was a good idea to force my hand.”

Her smooth brow furrows. “Your usual arrangement.”

Fuck. I really don’t want to get into that, but if I plan to be honest with her, I have to be completely honest. “What Jessica and I had was a matter of convenience. Our families move in the same circles. Her father is one of the King Group’s biggest investors, so we’re often at the same social events. Since neither of us is interested in relationships, it made sense for us to attend those events together, and afterward . . .” I shrug, not sure how much detail Delilah wants me to go into.

She presses her lips together, but only nods. “Thank you for telling me.”

She doesn’t look happy, or even relieved, and I realize what I’ve told her might not have cleared things up adequately. “I didn’t sleep with her Friday night. I haven’t been with her since I met you.”

She lets out a little sigh, and some of the tightness in her shoulders loosens. “Okay.”

I’m getting frustrated now. “I didn’t stop her when she kissed me, because I didn’t want to be photographed publicly rejecting the daughter of our major investor. But she knows not to do it again.”

Delilah nods and clasps her hands in front of her. “I’m glad we’ve cleared that up. If there isn’t anything else, I need to get back to my desk and finish my work.”

I narrow my eyes at her. I’ve apologized, but it doesn’t seem to have fixed anything. What does she want? She’s acting as if the last few weeks didn’t happen. Maybe this is another reminder of why I don’t do relationships. Maybe now that I’ve apologized and gotten it off my chest, I can walk away and stop thinking about her. “That’s all I had to say.”

It might only be in my imagination that she hesitates before she turns for the door, but it’s that possibly imaginary hesitation, coupled with the sway of her hips and the tumble of her dark hair down her back as she walks away from me—hair that I can all too easily recall fisting in my hand as I took her from behind—that has me striding forward.

Before she can swing the door open, I’m slamming my hand against it, holding it shut. I stand close behind her, caging her in, my chest brushing her shoulder blades and my rapidly hardening cock pressing against her ass.

She inhales sharply, her body stilling.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I growl.

She angles her head toward me, just enough so I can see the curve of her cheek and the dark length of her lowered lashes. “What do you mean?” Her voice isn’t as steady as before, which sends a surge of satisfaction through me. She isn’t as unaffected as she’s acting.

I skim my hand over her hip until my fingers curve around her waist. “I apologized. I explained what happened. I told you I haven’t been with her since before I met you. And you’re giving me nothing.” With my other hand, I brush her hair off her neck so I can run my nose along the soft skin, breathe in her scent. “Do you want me to believe you’re done with me—with this—because I made a mistake?”

A breath shudders out of her as my hand slides up her waist to cup her breast, and I smile to myself as I feel her hard nipple pressing into my palm.

Her head falls forward. “You hurt me, and that’s not what this was supposed to be about. I think it might be better if we just let things go.”

Shock rattles through me, followed by a swift sting behind my ribs. “What if I don’t want to let things go?”

She turns, pressing her back against the door and looking up at me. “Why wouldn’t you? What am I giving you that the Jessicas of the world can’t? You don’t want a relationship with me, so if all you want is sex, why not get it from someone who won’t care when you lie to her?”

Because there’s no comparison between Jessica and her. Because she brings something out of me I didn’t even know was there. That’s why I can’t seem to walk away, even when I know I should. I cup her neck, rub my thumb along her jaw. “I don’t feel anything when I’m with Jessica. Sex between us has always been . . .” I shake my head. “Fucking cold and empty. It’s different with you. When I touch you, it’s pure fucking heat, and I haven’t had enough. I want more with you.”

Her breath flutters between her parted lips, her eyes searching mine. “More of what?”

“Everything. More time. More of your body.” I dip my head and feather my lips across hers. “More of this.” I hesitate for a heartbeat, then force myself to continue. To give her some of the truth she deserves. “I want your warmth, Delilah. You’re about the only source of it I have. I don’t want to give it up because of Jessica.”

Her eyes soften at my admission. I’ve never said anything like that to anyone, and part of me wants to take the words back. They’re too intimate. Too close to revealing a weakness I thought I’d buried a long time ago.

Her gaze is direct, but shadows linger in her eyes. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”

“I’m not usually a liar. I won’t take Jessica to any more events. And I promise you, I won’t let her kiss me again.”

“You mean until this thing between us is over?”

She wants me to contradict her, but I just assured her I wasn’t a liar. I can’t make her a promise I’m not sure I can keep. “Maybe not even then.” It’s all I can offer, even though for the first time in my life I wish I had more than emptiness inside me to give to someone.

She’s still searching my face, and I raise my hand and brush my knuckles over her jaw. “I’m sorry,” I say again, lower this time. Then I tilt her chin, my lips hovering just over hers. “I don’t like that I hurt you, and I’m sorry. Do you accept my apology?”

“No more omissions? No more half-truths?”

I shake my head. “No more.”

She still doesn’t give me what I want, and urgency pumps through my veins now. I use my thumb on her jaw to angle her head further back, so that our lips are only a breath apart.

“Delilah,” I growl. “Do you accept my apology?”

Her pupils flare, and a hint of a smile plays on her lips, sending relief surging through me. “Maybe you should show me how sorry you are,” she whispers.

Even as the tension in my chest loosens, my cock swells. “You want me to get down on my knees and grovel, kitten?”

Her pulse flutters against my palm, and she nods slowly.

If any other woman asked me to do that, I’d laugh and show them the door. Like so many things with Delilah, my reaction is different. “Before I do that, I need to kiss you.”

She wets her lips. “I’ll allow it.”

I fucking love that she’s playing with fire. I grip her ass and jerk her against me so she can feel exactly what she’s doing to me. She gasps and I use the opportunity to close the distance between our lips so I can taste the sweetness of her mouth again.

With my hand tangled in her hair, I groan as she presses into me. Fuck, she’s like a drug I’ve gotten far too addicted to. And right now, I can’t bring myself to care.

I slide my hands around her waist, then turn her, maneuvering her backward across my office until she’s pressed against my desk. “I’m going to show you exactly how sorry I am,” I rasp, lifting her and setting her ass on top of it so I can run my hands up her legs and part her thighs. “I’m going to eat that gorgeous pussy until you come on my face. And then I’ll know you’ve forgiven me.”

“I didn’t lock the door behind me,” she says, breathlessly.

“I don’t care. The only people who will walk in here without an invitation are my brothers, and if they see you spread out with my mouth buried in your pussy, they’ll know you’re mine and they better do the polite thing and walk the fuck out again. Now lie back.”

With only a second’s hesitation, she does as I command. I shove her skirt over her hips and drop to my knees. Her panties are a tiny scrap of fabric that I rip from her without a second thought. She inhales sharply, but I just shove them into my pocket.

And then she forgives me.

Twice.