King

I thought she would choose something classical. I never imagined her a Sinatra fan. With any other woman, this song choice would be a complete turn-off. Women who suggest foolish things like love and throw themselves at me come off as weak, but not Holland. Quite the opposite. In fact, using a song to suggest love is a strong, bold move—as well as unnecessary. I felt something strong for her the second I saw her dancing alone on this very dance floor. Romero men are known for falling in love at first sight. It used to sound ridiculous to me, but now? Maybe not.

“See? Old soul,” I say, putting her at ease. I saw her hesitate before choosing this song, but she went for it, and I love that about her.

“I guess so,” she says shyly, reaching for her champagne.

“Sinatra fan?” I say, leaning forward to slide my hand under the table and over her thigh. Her smooth skin makes me so hard, it’s all I can do not to take her right here on the table, or bent over it, or up against the wall, in my lap . . . fuck, how did this happen? King Tomas Romero is pussy whipped. She doesn’t know it yet, but she could have anything in the world that she wants right now. Anything—it’s hers, no questions, no qualms—including my heart. Never in my life have I wanted to give a woman the world on a silver platter, but with Holland the urge is staggering.

She places her fork on the edge of her plate and turns in her chair, making it easier for my hand to slip between her legs. The way she moves is so innocent. I know she didn’t do it on purpose, but it’s arousing all the same. Our eyes lock as Sinatra sings Now is the time for it, while we are young. Let’s fall in love. Her crystal clear grey eyes blink slowly as I move closer to cover her mouth with mine. A tiny moan vibrates in her throat when my tongue slides across her full bottom lip. I want so much to bite it, but I deny myself the satisfaction to spare her the mark it would leave. My fingers brush against her damp panties while my other hand gathers her hair, gently tugging it to expose her elegant neck. Kissing trails down her silky skin to her nape and back up, I nip at her earlobe.

“Holland.” I whisper in her ear.

“Mmm?”

“I’m taking you upstairs,” I say, licking her ear with the tip of my tongue. She’s quiet while I surround her with temptation. She’s not agreeing with words, but her body is screaming yes. Her heart is pounding. She’s melting in my hands, but I feel the need for her to approve, so I stop my advances and wait.

“King?” she whispers. She’s wondering why I’ve stopped.

“Tell me what you want, Holland. I need to hear you ask for it.” She fidgets in her seat, and I slide a finger inside her panties to tempt her further. She’s soaked for me. Fuck, I need her.

“I want you to take me upstairs.” She whimpers, and that’s all I need. I scoop her up and kiss her deeply as I stride toward the elevator. Just as I press the up button, her phone begins to ring in her purse on the table. Pulling away from the wet heat of her lips, I look toward the annoying interruption and back into Holland’s eyes. She’s struggling, and I can’t bear the thought of her refusing me. I walk back to the table in a few hard strides, snatch her purse, and make it back to the elevator just as the doors open.

I punch the button to the VIP club and return to kissing the sugar-sweetened lips of this unexpected bright light in my life.

“King.” She breathes my name through our kisses.

“Mmmhmm?” I murmur, desperately trying to keep her focus on what’s about to happen between us and not the phone that continues to squawk in her purse. I have been thinking about Holland spread out naked in my bed all day, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a phone squash that fantasy. If I had my way, I’d drop the damn thing over the edge of the VIP club’s railing and onto the dance floor and let it explode into a million pieces.

Holland’s hands that have been threaded in my hair move to my chest, where she gently pushes me away. Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I wait for her to pop the bubble of passion surrounding us.

“King . . . open your eyes.” She pants as the elevator doors slide open. I oblige, but with only one eye.

“Don’t say it.”

“I’m sorry. I have to get that, or at least see who it is.”

With a sigh, I carry her to the apartment door as she rummages around in her purse in search of that annoying phone.

When we’re inside, I make my way directly to my bedroom. I’m determined to have her, and when I’m determined, I get what I want. I walk through the dark apartment, down the hall, and into my bedroom, not even turning on a light. Her damn phone is light enough. I want to look and see who’s fucking up my time with her, but I don’t. Instead, I lay her down as she says hello, and I ignore the fact that she’s talking to someone other than me. Her purse is dropped onto the floor next to us, and I work on the tiny buckles of her shoes. When her perfect feet are bare, I kiss the top of each one, causing her breath to hitch. From this end, it sounds like it’s her friend, Savannah. I’m going to have to set that woman straight. No calls when I have Holland. Never losing contact with her body, I reach out and turn on the dim light next to the bed. Her silhouette is equally as sexy as if every light in the room were on. I’m going to relentlessly kiss, lick and nip at every inch of her skin until she hangs up that fucking phone, and then I’m going to do it again.