A Secret for a Secret (All In #3)(32)

We both look over at the takeout cup sitting on the desk on the other side of the room. I slap a hand over my mouth. “Oh God, I just had a strawberry milkshake. What should I do?”

“I need an antihistamine. And some cortisone cream and possibly some EMLA cream.” King grimaces as he rolls off the bed and gets a good look at his dick. It’s sizable on a good day, but right now it’s swelling and bumpy and very much the wrong color.

“I don’t know if I have any antihistamines, or any of that other stuff.”

“I have some in my room. The antihistamines anyway. The sooner I take it, the less severe the reaction will be. And I need to shower.” He yanks his boxers on and hops around as he tries to put his pants on.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I should’ve asked about the milkshake. I was too caught up in making out to really think about it.”

“There’s a CVS down the street. I can always run out if you don’t have all the things you need.” I hurry to put on my clothes.

“The team doctor always has stuff on hand.”

“Right. Okay. That makes sense.” His face is getting progressively worse. His normally full lips are puffy, like he’s had collagen injections or something, and half his neck is covered in red welts. “It’s not anaphylactic, is it?”

“No. Just the hives. At least that’s what happened the last time I had a reaction.”

“When was that?”

“I think I was a teenager.” King pulls his polo over his head, forgoes his socks and shoes, and crosses over to the door.

“Is it possible for an allergy to worsen over time?”

“Maybe?”

I don’t bother with a bra, pulling my shirt over my head as I follow on his heels. It’s not like I can do anything constructive, but with the amount of swelling around his face and mouth, I sure as hell won’t be leaving him alone.

Kingston throws open the door but doesn’t rush across the hall like I expect him to, so I slam into his back with an oof. “What are you waiting for? We need to get this under control before your di—”

“Oh, hi, sir!” he almost shouts.

“King? What’re you doing in my daughter’s room at this hour? And what happened to your face?”

Shit. Of course my dad has to pick this exact moment to drop by. I slip past Kingston, and my nipples brush his arm, causing them to peak more than they already are, especially when the blast of air-conditioning hits me in the hall. I cross my arms to cover them. “He’s having an allergic reaction. He needs an antihistamine.”

“A reaction to what?”

“I’m allergic to strawberries, sir.”

“Shit. That’s right. What did you eat that had strawberries in it?”

“I didn’t eat anything, sir. Queenie had a strawberry shake.”

His brow furrows. “Jesus. This is from a shake?”

Leave it to Kingston to be far too honest for his or my own good. “Can you ask questions later, Dad? I think we need to get King something for the swelling before it becomes an issue.”

“Right. Yeah. Let me call the team medic.” My dad pulls out his phone, clicks a couple of buttons, and brings it to his ear, then motions for us to follow him.

Neither of us is wearing shoes. “Let me grab my purse in case I need to run to the CVS for anything.” I duck behind King, slip on my flip-flops, grab my bag and his dress shoes, and meet them down the hall by the elevators. I pass King his shoes, because there really isn’t another option.

“We just have to go down a couple of floors. You doing okay there, King? That’s a pretty nasty reaction to a milkshake.” My dad frowns as Kingston slips his feet into his shoes. They’re loafers, which I’d usually make fun of, but for some reason they work on King.

The crease in my dad’s brow deepens as he inspects King’s face more closely. His usually neat hair is a mess. Because my hands were in it. And there’s a somewhat decent chance that we smell a lot like sex.

The elevator dings, and my dad turns his suspicious gaze on me. “I’ve got it from here, honey. You can go back to your room.”

“But—”

“It’s all right. It’s late and you should get some rest. Thanks for your help, Queenie. I’ll see you tomorrow.” King gives me a slightly strained smile and follows my dad into the elevator.

I sincerely hope King is alive come morning.





CHAPTER 12

PLEASE DON’T CASTRATE ME

Kingston

My swallow is audible as the elevator doors slide shut. Jake leans against the rail and crosses his arms.

I can smell Queenie on me: not only a faint hint of her perfume but also, and far more pungently, her special scent, completely unique to her, because it’s still all over my face. I glance at my reflection, getting a good look at my swollen lips and chin and my unruly hair. I quickly try to tame it but then realize Jake is watching me, so I clasp my hands in front of me.

“Sir, I—”

The elevator dings and the doors open. A couple in their midthirties gets on, preventing me from saying anything else. I honestly don’t know what I’m going to tell him. Obviously I’d planned to talk to Jake about my relationship with Queenie, but I hadn’t anticipated doing it while having an allergic reaction caused by making it to third base with her.