By His Vow: Chapter 26

“Oh my god.” Lori gasps, a wide smile on her face as I explain all the details of my first night at Kingston’s apartment.

We’re in our favorite Italian restaurant after a long day at work, catching each other up on everything that happened since she left me behind in the back of the car.

Admittedly, my night was much more exciting than hers, seeing as she watched a movie, refused to open her emails knowing that she was going to have to deal with her boss for taking the day off, and curled up with Griz long before midnight.

“And he didn’t demand you return the favor?” she asks, a little too loudly.

The older couple at the next table both turn to look at us.

“Will you keep it down? It’s bad enough that the whole world knows we’re seeing each other thanks to all the photos circling online.”

“You could try to stop looking so cute and into him when you’re out in public,” she suggests.

“Fuck off,” I hiss. “I am not into him.”

She raises a brow.

“Oh, that’s right, he was more…into you last night.”

I groan. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“Oh no, you so should. It was hot.”

Heat unfurls in my lower belly as I think back to how it felt last night to have his fingers on me…in me.

Yeah. It was so fucking hot.

So hot that it’s been the only thing I’ve been able to think about all day.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, I can’t lie, I was actually feeling a little bit giddy about seeing him. So when his message came through that he was stuck in a meeting, my heart sank a little.

After giving myself a good hard talking to, for allowing him to get under my skin quite so quickly—pun intended—I called Lori for a distraction.

Thankfully, she’d had a shitty day and was more than happy to indulge in pasta and prosecco.

“It was a one-time thing,” I mutter, twirling my fork around in my tagliatelle.

She chuckles, not believing a word of it. “Sure it was.”

I drop my fork without eating any and let out a sigh.

“It has to be, Lor. I can’t afford to be reckless here. This is a business transaction. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Maybe so, but you can totally have fun while you’re at it.”

“He’s Miles’s best friend,” I argue.

“So? Miles is a big boy—so I’ve heard.” She winks, and I groan in disgust.

“Never say that again, please,” I beg. “And don’t even think about⁠—”

“I’m not going there, don’t worry. He’s too…rich for me.”

I shake my head, loving my best friend more than ever.

There have been so many people who have entered my life with one goal in mind, and every single one revolved around our wealth.

But Lori is the exception to the rule. She loves me despite my family’s money, and I love her even more because of it.

She isn’t friends with me for an easy ride, and she never got close to me so she could be introduced to Miles or any of his friends.

I shudder at the thought of her going after Kingston.

Mine…

I draw in a sharp breath, utterly horrified about where my mind just went.

Kingston Callahan isn’t mine, and he never will be. We’re just…borrowing each other for a year to get what we want.

Business deal.

Business deal.

Business deal.

If I repeat those two little words enough, surely it’ll help remind me?

“He’s also now technically my boss, and there is no fucking way I’m going there. As far as I’m concerned, I dodged a bullet by not being allowed to spend my time on the top floor of the building. I don’t need to be screwing one.”

“But you’ll be married to one, so you may as well reap the benefits. Especially when you know they’re good.”

I’m about to respond, but someone walks up to our table and pulls the spare chair out.

“Sorry I’m late,” Kingston says, his voice all deep and sexy.

I stare at him in disbelief as he slips his jacket off and places it on the back of the chair before lowering himself into it.

Not a word is said around our table as he reaches up and releases his tie a little, undoing his top button as if he plans on getting comfortable.

He might still look irritatingly hot, but he’s not quite as put together as he was this morning. I get lost for a few seconds, watching as he rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, exposing his strong, corded forearms before my eyes lift to his face.

He didn’t shave this morning, so now he’s sporting more than just a hint of a five o’clock shadow. His hair is messy, as if he’s spent half the day dragging his fingers through it. And his lips⁠—

“What the fuck are you doing?” I finally blurt, forcing myself to stop checking him out.

Our server comes over and places a glass of scotch before him.

“Thank you,” he says, immediately reaching for it and bringing the glass to his lips. “Can I please have a glass of red wine with my steak?” he asks, not even bothering to say what red he wants.

The server nods and scurries away to do his bidding.

“I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “Who exactly invited you?”

He’s about to answer when another thought hits me.

“How did you even know we were here?”

A smirk spreads across his lips.

“You’re soon to be my wife, baby. I know everything.”

“I’m not sure if that’s sweet or borderline stalker,” Lori mutters into her glass before swallowing a huge mouthful of prosecco.

Kingston follows her lead and swallows his scotch in one.

“Here you go, sir,” the server says, appearing with his wine and pouring a little into his glass so he can approve it.

He swirls it like an asshole before sniffing it.

My eyes collide with Lori’s.

‘Give me strength,’ I mouth, much to her amusement.

“Fantastic as always, thank you,” Kingston says, cutting through our silent conversation.

“Your steak will be just a few moments,” she assures him before disappearing again.

“Good choice, ladies,” he says before taking another sip of his wine. “So what are we talking about?” He looks between the two of us as if he’s seriously expecting us to continue like he didn’t just interrupt us.

When neither of us responds, instead just staring at him in shock, he figures out his answer.

“Ah, I see,” he muses. “Lorelei, did Tatum tell you just how much she enjoyed her first night in our apartment?”

My cheeks burn at the insinuation.

“I hear you have pink scatter cushions and a blanket,” Lori deadpans. “Didn’t see you as a blanket kind of man, I’ve got to say.”

“Never judge a book by its cover, Lorelei,” he says as his dinner arrives. “Please…” He gestures to our half-eaten meals. “Don’t stop on my account.”

He picks up his knife and fork and dives in while we continue to stare at each other.

‘Sorry,’ I mouth to my best friend.

She shakes her head, an amused smile playing on her lips before she focuses back on her food.

We eat in silence for a few minutes before Kingston groans and pulls his cell from his pocket.

“Sorry,” he says. “I need to take this.”

I want to chastise him, but honestly, what’s the point? He’s going to do whatever he wants, no matter what I say.

I might like to fight with him, but I’m not sure now is the time or the place. Instead, I choose to glare at him, silently letting him know how irritating I find him.

“Okay, that’s fantastic. Yeah. Yeah. No.” He smirks, and it spikes my curiosity. “No, she won’t be requiring the contents of the top drawer of her nightstand.”

My chin drops as realization hits.

“Oh, her passport is in there. Yeah, she’ll need that. The Rampant Rabbit can stay, though.”

“Kingston,” I hiss, fury bubbling up inside me.

“Sorry, hang on a minute,” he says before lowering his cell a little and focusing on me. “Are you going to need lube, baby?”

Lori loses the fight with her amusement and barks out a laugh while I pray the floor will open up and swallow me whole.

“You’re a fucking asshole. I can’t believe I’m stuck with you of all freaking people.”

Reaching out, I snatch his cell from his hand, moving faster than he anticipates.

“No, don’t pack the lube. Kingston much prefers it when I fuck him dry. Make sure the extra-large strap-on is in the box, though. He loves that bad boy.”

Lori loses control over her laughter and all but falls off her chair as I throw Kingston’s cell onto the table and jump to my feet.

Without looking back, I march straight into the ladies’ bathroom with my chest heaving and fury coursing through my veins.

“Asshole. Fucking asshole,” I mutter to myself as I pace back and forth, attempting to calm the fuck down.

All of this…the agreement, moving, becoming a wife…it’s all just too much to take.

Shaking my arms out at my sides, I try to talk myself down.

It’s fine.

Everything is fine.

You’re just marrying him.

A year.

It’s nothing.

Twelve little months.

Three hundred and sixty-five days.

It’ll fly by.

Before I know it, it’ll be this time next year and I’ll nearly be free.

I could be planning my new life in England.

I could⁠—

The door crashes back against the wall behind me and I lurch forward in shock.

I should have seen it coming, but I thought Lori would be the one to come and check on me when I didn’t return after a couple of minutes.

Who am I kidding; she’s probably still laughing.

“You think you’re funny?” Kingston growls, stalking toward me like a lion going after its prey.

I shrug. It’s a move that I know all too well will piss him off, but I can’t stop myself.

He closes the space between us with only a handful of wide strides. I back up, but there is only so far to go before I bump into the wall.

I suck in a sharp breath, but he’s so close that the only thing I smell is his aftershave.

And hell, it’s mouthwatering.

“You’re trying to control my life,” I state, my voice high-pitched and irritating. I’m mad, damn it. I can’t help it.

“You agreed to this,” he counters, his voice calm and unaffected by my outburst, although the pulsating muscle just beneath his jaw tells a very different story.

“I agreed to put up with you for a year. I didn’t realize that included you stalking me, inviting yourself to dinner with my friend, and stopping me from having fucking coffee.”

I gasp as his hand darts out and he collars me around my throat.

I stare up at him with wide eyes as my pulse pounds against his fingers.

“Just getting to know Lorelei better, baby,” he says softly, totally at odds with the dangerously possessive way he holds me. His thumb moves, grazing over my pulse point.

A shiver races down my spine and I can’t help but arch against the wall, my body desperate to feel his up against me.

“She’s important to you, so she’s important to me.”

I narrow my eyes.

“Cut the shit, King. This isn’t a fucking game. It’s my life.”

“A life you’re trying to make very hard,” he warns.

“What the fuck is up with you tonight?” I snap.

“I’ve had a stressful day. I’m hungry,” he adds. “And yet my steak is sitting out there while I’m in here taking care of you.”

“I don’t need taking care of, Kingston. I can look after myself.”

He dips his head, letting his nose brush along the line of my jaw until his lips are at my ear.

“It sure seems like you have enough toys to do so,” he muses.

“Fuck you. What I do with my body is absolutely none of your business.”

He leans forward, pressing his length against me, pinning me against the unforgiving wall.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he rasps in my ear a beat before his fingers brush my thigh.

“King.” I gasp as they move higher. “No, you can’t.”

I try pushing his arm away, but he’s having none of it.

“Fight all you like, Tatum. It only makes it sweeter.”

He pulls back and his blazing green eyes lock on mine.

My breath catches at the uncontrolled inferno I find staring back at me.

“All day,” he says, his fingers tucking under my panties, “all I’ve been able to think about is how tight your pussy is. How sweet it tastes.”

“Oh god,” I moan as he circles my clit. “King.”

“Fuck,” he groans, his eyes shuttering as his name echoes around us. “So fucking wet for me.”

I shake my head, attempting to argue with his words. It’s pointless; he can literally feel the evidence.

As he plunges two fingers inside me, the sound of me sucking him in is unignorable.

My entire body burns red hot as he really starts to work me.

My head falls back against the wall and my eyes close.

“Oh no,” he says, slowing his pace and letting my approaching release ebb away. “You watch me as I do this. I want you to know exactly who owns your pleasure right now.”

My chest heaves as I fight to hold his eyes.

I could refuse. But where would that get me?

Probably back at the table with a cold dinner and a desperate pussy. Doesn’t sound like much fun, if I’m being honest.

“Who owns you, Tatum?” he demands.

Fury shoots through me at his blatant claim of ownership.

I clench my jaw to bite back a seething comment but then he bends his fingers just so and everything melts away.

I’m right there, teetering on the edge of the cliff. I’m ready to dive, to fall headfirst into mind-numbing pleasure.

But he doesn’t let me. He holds me right there, torturing the words out of me.

And then the anger comes back full force.

How dare he?

How dare he try to own me and control me like I’m his fucking toy.

“I hate you,” I seethe, glaring pure death at him while trying to ignore the fact that tears of fury burn the back of my eyes.

Now is not the time to lose control to this man.

But all he does is smirk, his eyes darkening with desire as he holds my orgasm hostage.

“Tatum,” he growls. “Who do you fucking belong to?” He rolls his hips and I moan, feeling his solid length against my hip.

Fuck him.

Fuck him and his cocky smirk and big dick.

His thumb grazes my clit, sending pleasure shooting through me, and I cave.

“You, King. I belong to youuuuu,” I cry as he lets me fall.

“Christ.” He grunts as I suck his fingers deeper, embracing wave after wave of pleasure.

“Now,” he says, his fingers still inside me. “Tell me that any of those toys in your top drawer can give you that.”

A cocky smirk appears on his face. He knows how good that was. He knows I can’t.

Arrogant jerk.

I was wrong last night. He isn’t sweet and thoughtful. It was an act. He is the power-hungry, egotistical asshole I had him pegged as.

This time when I shove his hand away, he lets me.

Pulling his fingers from my body, he instantly lifts them to his lips and licks them clean.

My lower stomach tightens with desire, but I force it down as I march into a cubicle before slamming and locking the door as the sound of his laughter ripples through the air.