The King (The Original Sinners: White Years, #2)(91)

She looked downward with a meaningful gleam in her eyes. Having Sam lying in his bed, wearing his shirt, draped across his chest, breathing his air and listening while he bared his soul to her had aroused him almost to the point of pain.

“I won’t let it near you,” he said.

“Promise,” she said, peeking over the edge of her veil again.

“I promise. Does it make you nervous?”

Sam dropped the veil of her blanket and the mask of her feigned modesty.

“I have two brothers. Penises don’t scare me, and they don’t impress me. I have a whole collection of them back at my place. A couple of them even bigger than you.”

“I can’t win with you.”

“You can’t lose with me, either,” she said, serious now. “The reason I’m not scared of your big naked self… I trust you.”

“What do you trust me to do?”

“Will you touch me? Like he touched you in the car?”

“I would love to touch you,” Kingsley said.

“Hand only,” she said.

“I’ll keep all other body parts to myself.”

Sam paused before rolling on to her stomach. Kingsley slipped his hand under the back of her—his—shirt and tickled her.

The light touching turned into a light massage. Sam moaned in pleasure.

“You have such soft skin,” he said.

“Thank you,” Sam said. “Good line, by the way. I use it on girls, too.”

Kingsley pulled the covers down so he could properly give Sam a fearsome spank.

“Shit, that hurt,” she said, laughing. “I’m warning you, I know all the lines guys use to seduce women, because I use them, too.”

“I don’t use lines. Ever.”

“Have you ever had sex in the back of a Rolls Royce?” Sam repeated. “How is that not a line?”

“It’s not a line. It’s a serious inquiry.”

“Have you tried ‘You have the sexiest blank of any woman I’ve ever been with?’ Doesn’t matter what you put in the blank—they spread for that line every time.”

“I wasn’t using a line on you. And what on earth are you wearing?” Her underwear was plain white cotton with writing on it.

“Days of the week underwear. Today is Friday. These are my Fridays.”

“It’s after midnight—it’s Saturday.”

“This is a problem with Days of the Week undies. If I sleep in them, I never know if I should wear the day I go to bed, or the day I wake up.”

“If you slept naked, you wouldn’t have that problem.”

He traced the center of her back with his palm, grazed her shoulder blades and her neck… He couldn’t believe how slight she felt under his hand. Her personality filled up an entire room. Big treasure. Small package. He knew what they were doing was beyond foolish. She was his assistant. He was her boss. They had to work together. Wouldn’t it be awkward trying to work together if he and Sam had sex? Especially awkward considering she’d never had sex with a man before. And yet, nothing could stop him from wanting her, from wanting to be inside her. She wanted him, too. He knew what arousal looked like, and Sam was undeniably turned on. Her skin was hot, her breathing rapid and ragged, and she’d licked her lips—twice.

He wanted nothing so much as to throw her Fridays on the f loor and stay inside her until next Thursday. When had he become the sort of man who wanted to make love to a woman who wore Days of the Week underwear?

“You’re laughing at me.” Sam stretched out underneath his hand as if wanting more of him.

“I am not.”

“I like it when you laugh at me.” Sam turned over on to her back and Kingsley let his hand rest on her stomach.

“I’m smiling at you. It’s a different thing.”

“I like your smile.”

“You do?”

“Of course. You have the sexiest smile of any man I’ve ever seen.” She winked at him.

“You’re going to get it now,” he said.

“Oh, shit,” she said, laughing and trying to pull away from him.

Sam squealed when he grabbed both her wrists and slammed them into the bed over her head.

“You’re always the one in charge, aren’t you? You top with women, don’t you?”

“Every time,” she said, a little breathless.

“How does it feel being with someone more dominant than you are?”

“Terr if ying.”

“Good terrifying or bad?”

“Both,” she admitted, and Kingsley smiled down at her. He released her wrists but didn’t move from his position over her. No part of him now touched any part of her. But if he lowered himself from his push-up position, he’d be on top of her.

“You look good in my shirt,” he said. “And that’s not a line.”

“What do I have to do to keep it?”

“Pay for it,” he said.

Her eyes widened hugely, and he felt an instant stab of regret.

“I’m sorry,” he said, releasing her wrists. “I forgot—”

“Don’t apologize,” she said. “It’s okay. You’re a man in bed with a woman. I’m not complaining.”