King's Baby - A Bad Boy Romance (11 page)

“Everything
okay?” King asks, glancing at me briefly and back to the road.

“Yeah,
it’s just Savannah,” I say and text her a quick thank you with a relieved emoji
and a thumbs up.

“Nice
girl. I like her overzealous protectiveness.”

“Yeah,
more like
over
protective, but that’s
all right. She loves me.”

“It’s
good to have someone like that watching out for you,” he says wistfully, making
me wonder if anyone has ever watched out for him. He doesn’t seem like the type
who needs looking out for.

After
a few minutes of driving in silence, King switches the music on, and my heart
skips a beat when Antonio Vivaldi’s
Concerto
No. 4
fills the air around us. I love this piece of music. My heart races
when I play it, and the fact that King just happens to have been listening to
it is just another bit of proof that this thing between us can’t be wrong.
Closing my eyes, I imagine my bow as an extension of my body, gliding across
the strings. Music feels so good. It’s always been there for me, feeding my
soul. Without it, I’d wither and die. King is quickly becoming very much like
my music. He feels so good. He feeds my soul, and I’m starting to be afraid of
what would happen if I were without him.

“Remind
me to play this when I make love to you again,” King says, yanking me out of my
musically induced state of bliss.

“What?
Vivaldi?”

“Yes.
I want to hear you scream my name at the climax of this piece.” As if his words
weren’t enough to force a bright red blush up my neck, his sensual, deep,
gravelly tone is. Dear God, he does things to me, things that perplex and
fascinate me, mystifying things my young mind can’t begin to untangle.

“I
love seeing you blush. I’ll try to behave, though.” His words are genuine, but
his smile is full of mischief. He isn’t going to behave, and I love it. I
squirm in my seat with a vision of King and me in his bed, sweaty and panting,
with Antonio Vivaldi’s
Concerto No. 4
climaxing loudly in the background.

Between
Savannah saving me with her text message and King causing electrical storms
between my legs, I haven’t paid attention to where we’re going, so I’m
surprised when we pull into an underground parking garage in the parking lot of
Ecstasy. It takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the lack of light in the
garage, but when they do, I glance over at King.

“I’m
still going to feed you—don’t worry. Your surprise is inside, though, so
we have to stop here, okay?”

“Yeah,
sure, of course,” I say, but I haven’t convinced myself that any of this is
okay yet. What kind of surprise would be in the club anyway?
His
apartment . . . of course.
How could I forget? Butterflies take flight
in my tummy when I think of being alone in the room with King where I lost my
virginity less than twenty-four hours ago.

“You’re
quiet. Is everything okay?” King asks, guiding the Range Rover into a parking
space between two other very fancy cars.

I
don’t know if everything is okay. I don’t know how to identify the feelings I
have when I’m with King.

“You’re
overwhelming. In a good way, though,” I say, rushing the ‘in a good way,
though’ part when his face clouds over with concern. He cuts the engine and
reaches over to gently take my hand in his.

“In
a good way? I don’t want to push you away, Holland. I . . . I just don’t know
up from down right now.” He pauses and frowns as he lowers his eyes to our
joined hands. I can see the wheels turning in his mind. When his eyes find mine
again, he blinks lazily, his long, dark lashes brush against his cheeks, and he
lifts one of my hands to his mouth, where his warm lips slowly press against my
palm and then the pad of each of my fingertips, one by one, seductively, until
I’m nearly convulsing from the shivers zinging up and down my spine. I’m
lightheaded. It’s happening again. He’s overwhelming me.

“Sorry.”
He’s smirking. I don’t think he’s really sorry, and that’s okay.

“I
promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman the rest of the night. Come on, I have to
get out of this confined space so I can keep that promise.” He carefully places
my hands back into my lap and I watch him exit the Rover and round the front to
my side. When he helps me down I notice, to my utter disappointment, that his
hands don’t linger on my hips this time. He leads me by the hand to an elevator
that lifts us up two floors before it opens right into the front entrance of
the club. It’s a totally different vibe without all of the people and thumping
music.

“Wait
here. I’ll be right back,” he says as he pushes through the double doors that
separate the entrance from the club. Standing alone where a bouncer checked my
ID last night, I notice that the glowing pink lights from the first floor of
Ecstasy are now teal blue, my favorite color. The quivering lights give off the
peaceful, quiet feeling of being underwater.

When
King returns, he’s holding something behind his back. One corner of his mouth
is turned up in a smile, and I can absolutely feel the excitement and positive
energy flowing off of him—like a kid in a candy store, except I’m the
candy.

“This
was all on short notice, but I wanted to spoil you a little.”

“What’s
behind your back?” I ask, trying to peek around him.

“Wouldn’t
you like to know?” he teases, and I try again, but he quickly dodges to the
left, keeping his surprise behind his back. Maybe another tactic would work
better. I’ll ask nicely.

“Yes,
I would. Please.”

“Well
. . . since you asked nicely, I guess I’ll show you.”

I
love surprises; it’s the kid in me I guess.

He
doesn’t disappoint. The surprise is the most gorgeous bouquet of teal blue and
white orchids I’ve ever seen.

I
gasp and clasp my hands together in front of my chest. “They’re gorgeous, but
how did you . . . what . . . wait, how did you do that? I just told you my
favorite color a few minutes ago.”

“I
have connections,” he says, raising one of his eyebrows in a high arch. He
hands me the flowers, and I hold them close and breathe in their light vanilla
scent.

“They’re
beautiful, King. Thank you so much,” I say and step closer to stand on my
tiptoes and kiss him. He doesn’t reach for me, but he also doesn’t pull away. I
meant for it to be a quick thank you kiss, but sparks ignite the moment our
lips connect, and I find myself pressed against his chest with my arms wrapped
around his neck, flowers dangling haphazardly, panting within seconds. A moan
vibrates through his chest, making me brave, and I slide my hand over his chest
and down to the rock hard erection straining against his jeans.

“You’re
making it impossible to be a perfect gentleman, Holland,” he murmurs against my
lips.

“What
if I don’t want a perfect gentleman?” I whisper.

“If
you don’t want a perfect gentleman, then I guess I’m free to do this.” I inhale
sharply when he slides his hands around to cup my ass. He pulls me flush
against him.

“And
this,” he says, grinding his hard length into my belly. He deepens the kiss
with his perfect mouth, expertly searching every part
of
mine, tasting and nipping at my full bottom lip
. One of his hands slides
over my backside, learning every curve, while the other holds me securely in
place at the nape of my neck, under my hair.

“But
a promise is a promise, and I always keep my promises, Ms. Bennett,” he says,
stepping back and literally leaving me hanging. I stumble forward a step, but
as always, he steadies me.

King
is a drug, and he’s made me high.

“Come
on, let’s go inside.” His warm fingers take my hand to lead me on wobbly legs
into the club.

I
don’t know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. I feel King’s
eyes on me, watching, waiting for my reaction. All of my attention is focused
on the transformation that has taken place on the pink level of Ecstasy. All
around the circular room, the walls are bathed in teal blue instead of hot
pink, just like the ones in the entrance. The glass blocks that make up the
bases of each bar are illuminated with the same color blue, and the small cube
tables scattered throughout the bar are also lit blue from within. The most
breathtaking area is a table in the center of the dance floor though. Formally
set for two, it’s a small, intimate table made grandiose by a stunning
chandelier that seems to be suspended in midair above it. The screen that surrounds
the dance floor twinkles with a million bright stars like a night sky, instead
of the honey dripping images and optical illusions from last night. The floor
is covered with orchid petals that exactly match the ones in my bouquet. I
inhale the light floral scent penetrating the air before I cover my mouth with
my hand.

I’m
trying to comprehend all of the attention to detail that has gone into making
this magical night time fairytale come together so quickly, but I’m simply
awestruck.

“King
. . . I can’t believe you did all of this.”

“You
like it then?” he asks, sounding a little unsure. How can he possibly be
unsure? It’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen, and by far the most
elaborate thing anyone’s ever done for me. I doubt any man has ever swept a
woman off of her feet more thoroughly.

I
turn to face him, and sure enough, insecurity is written all over his face
until he sees the tears pooling in the corners of my eyes. Relief spreads
across his ruggedly handsome face, and the corners of his mouth turn up in the
smile I am quickly starting to love.

“Like
I said, it was short notice.” He shrugs now, as if he weren’t full of doubt
just a second ago.

“If
this is short notice, I can’t imagine what a date with a few days of
preparation would be like,” I say, scanning the room again.

“Well,
if all goes as planned tonight, maybe you will give me the opportunity to show
you the full arsenal of my date planning capabilities.” He winks at me, and I
experience swooning for the first time in my life. My body actually sways under
the heavy weight of his adoration.

“Whoa
there . . .” He grabs my elbow to support me, causing a sudden pulse of energy
to spread across my skin. “You okay?”

“Yeah.
Yeah, I’m all right.” But I’m not.

“Maybe
we should sit down,” he suggests, guiding me to the table with one hand on the
small of my back and the other cradling my elbow.

As
we walk across the dance floor, the orchid petals tickle my feet through the
open toes of my borrowed sandals.
Savannah’s never going to
believe this.
Hell, I don’t believe this. Who does something so romantic
for a person they just met the day before? This kind of date should be reserved
for a man proposing to his girlfriend or celebrating an anniversary, not a
first date after a reckless drunken encounter. He’s setting the bar pretty high
with all of this.

King
pulls out a chair for me and guides me down onto the soft seat while handing me
a glass of water.

“Here,
drink this. You’re probably dehydrated. You haven’t had anything to drink all
afternoon.” I drink the entire glass in one long swallow, looking up at him
over the rim of the glass. He’s probably right. I’m still hung over from my
first drinking experience, and I’ve been playing my fingers to the bone for
hours. Not to mention the energy expended during our tryst in the rehearsal
room. Who am I? How can one man influence me so significantly?

“Thanks,”
I say and hand the glass back to him with a weak smile. “I think you’re right.
I was thirsty.”

 
He places the glass on the table behind him,
never taking his eyes off of me, and he reaches out with one finger to feather
a trail from my cheekbone to my chin until it rests on my lips. His gaze is
thoughtful as he cradles my face in his hand.

“You
make things different,” he says, focusing on my mouth. I want to ask what he
means by that, but if I do, he will most likely remove his hand from my face,
and I don’t want that. I turn my cheek into his hand and close my eyes,
breathing in the faint smell of cigar smoke and soap. His hand tenses around my
jaw, tilting my lips to meet his in the most tender of kisses. King moans.
Pulling away, he gives my jaw a quick, frustrated squeeze before he releases
it.

“I’m
going to have to keep my distance if we’re ever going to eat.”

I
watch as he pulls his white upholstered chair around so he is situated at my
side instead of across from me.

“That’s
not keeping your distance.” I don’t know why I said that. The closer he is to
me, the more content I seem to be.

“I’m
still working on mastering the art of self-control, Holland. You’ll have to
give me time.” He’s being playful, but I sense a bit of seriousness in his
voice, and his eyes are full of desire.

“Sir?”
A voice comes from the edge of the dance floor.

“Yes,
Sebastián,
now is fine.” King responds without looking
in the direction of the disembodied voice. A waiter and a waitress dressed in
black pants and stiff white shirts appear on either side of us, seemingly from
out of nowhere. The waiter gracefully slides two plates onto the table in front
of us while the waitress pops the cork from a bottle of champagne and pours it
into tall flutes. Before I can say thank you, they vanish as suddenly as they
arrived. I examine the food on my plate and lay my hand over my tummy when it
growls impatiently. I don’t recognize some of the food, so I look to King, who
is watching me.