The Bride Goes Rogue (The Fifth Avenue Rebels #3)(63)

She gasped at the fullness, the sense of rightness as they joined. Yes, this. She’d needed this very thing ever since the last time he’d been inside her.

His chest and arms surrounded her, his big frame pressing her down into the bed. He gave her a minute to adjust, as he always did, until she began to move her hips, begging for friction. He sucked in a breath. “You’re going to make me come.”

“Isn’t that the point, my king?”

The words caused his nostrils to flare. Panting, he put his face into her throat as his hips rocked. “I cannot get enough. It’s so good. God, I want you every second of the day.”

Thank heavens, because she felt the same.

Sweat rolled off their bodies by the time they finished. Her limbs felt like noodles as they sprawled on the mattress together, the night air trickling in through the open window. Sounds from the street kept them company in the silence, while Preston’s foot stroked her calf. He’d already disposed of the shield and she was lying on top of his chest. Neither of them had a stitch of clothing on.

“You’re very comfortable with yourself,” he said, a deep rumble beneath her ear.

“Is that bad?”

“Of course not. It’s just unusual.”

She propped her chin on her hands to stare up at him. He was smoking with one hand, the other caressing her bare back. She said, “Why? Because I’m a woman?”

He snorted before putting the cigarette back to his mouth.

Pushing up to one elbow, she snatched the cigarette from his fingers and extinguished it in the crystal dish on the nightstand. He frowned. “I wasn’t finished with that yet.”

He didn’t fool her, not anymore. They’d spent too much time together for that. “You use those as a defense, so you don’t have to speak. Smoking gives you a reason to just listen, instead of participating.”

“That’s ridiculous. I happen to like smoking.”

“I don’t doubt it, and stop scowling at me. You may light another when we’re finished talking. Now, tell me why you snorted when I asked if it was because I was a woman.”

A muscle jumped in his cheek. “Men feel uncomfortable and uncertain sometimes.”

“Even you?”

“Even me. I was terrified when I took over Clarke Holdings. I borrowed money from Forrest to keep afloat, but I knew it wouldn’t last long. And I had no real skills to build upon.”

“Pun intended?”

He pinched her bottom. “You think you’re amusing.”

“Yes, I do.” She moved in closer to his warm body. “What do you mean you had no skills? You were so young. What did you expect?”

“Drinking and fucking don’t exactly count as skills when running a business.”

“Was that all you knew how to do?”

Preston’s hand reached for his cigarette case, then pulled back as if he caught himself. “My father made sure I could shoot, fish and play cards. Made me learn how to hit a curveball.” He dragged his free hand across his jaw. “That last one actually came in handy, though, when I played baseball in college.”

“I bet you were good.”

He gave her a slow grin. “I was very good.”

She didn’t doubt it. “Perhaps your father wanted you to enjoy being a young man before he burdened you with responsibilities.”

“Then he shouldn’t have gambled the family fortune away.”

“Gamblers rarely realize they have a problem until it’s too late.”

He waited a few seconds, then said, “Your father knew.”

“He did?” Katherine frowned at the wall. Daddy hadn’t ever mentioned it. He just talked about the joint business dissolving, but never said why.

“Of course. He and Henry were close in those days, but Lloyd quickly disentangled himself when things got bad. Ignored my father for the rest of his life.”

“That can’t be right,” Katherine said. “Surely my father would’ve helped yours if things were truly that grim.”

Preston didn’t speak, his leg rocking on the mattress.

“You’re saying my father deliberately withheld assistance.” Her mind reeled with this knowledge. “I don’t believe it.”

“Doesn’t matter what you believe. I’m telling you the facts.”

“This is why you hate my father. Because you blame him for what happened.”

“I don’t blame him for my father’s mistakes. But Lloyd could’ve helped. He could’ve helped Henry instead of dropping him off the side of a cliff.”

She didn’t know what to make of this new information. Her father never talked about the old days, when he ran a company with Henry Clarke. Had he truly turned his back on Preston’s father?

“I’m sorry I brought it up,” Preston muttered.

“No, I’m grateful to learn at last why you don’t like him.”

“Trust me when I tell you there is more. A lot more, in fact. I’m sparing you the details, even though you love details.”

That he remembered this about her made her smile, despite all that had happened tonight. “My father isn’t a bad man.”

“After seeing your pallor earlier this evening, we’ll need to disagree on that.”