The Fearless King (The Kings #2)(29)

“What happened in your office…” She cursed. “You know what? Forget I said anything. I’m already pathetic enough without throwing a pity fuck into the mix.”

Frank rocked back on his heels. “We already established that I don’t pity fuck, Duchess.”

“Like I said—forget I lost my mind enough to say anything at all.” She drew herself up until he was almost fooled that she’d actually shrugged off the entirety of the day and this conversation. “I’m going to go to bed.”

“Journey.” He waited for her to turn to face him before continuing. She looked so…small…standing there with her arms wrapped around herself wearing only his shirt. Breakable. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all. “Would it help? Or is it just another form of harm?” He might want her, but he refused to be the cane she beat herself with.

She turned to look out the window, her words falling as softly as snow between them. “In the office was the first time I felt like me in months. You grounded me, Frank. With your hands on me, there was no past or future, and your mouth on my skin silenced every single skeleton rattling in my closet—at least for the moment. I don’t regret what we did at all, and I know it doesn’t make sense but—”

He couldn’t have resisted Journey if he’d tried, and he didn’t bother to try. Frank clasped the back of her neck and turned her to face him. “Let’s make one thing clear.”

“Just one?” Her faint smile actually reached her eyes this time.

“For now.” He massaged the tense muscles in her neck, making sure to keep his grip firm. “There’s no going back if you choose this. It’s all or nothing.”

She stared at his mouth but made no move to touch him. “I don’t like being penned in, Frank.” Journey dragged her gaze up to meet his. “Even if I did, you don’t know me well enough to demand all or nothing.”

He could lay it out there, could tell her that he’d had his eye on her since the first time they met several years ago. It had never gone further than that solely because she was a King and Frank had enough enemies without borrowing hers as well. And there had been Beckett to consider. Hooking up with a member of Beck’s estranged family would be a slap in the face to their friendship, and no sex was worth damaging that relationship. Not to Frank.

Things changed.

He wasn’t willing to take a leap based on a couple of days’ worth of up-close and personal interactions, but the deeper Frank delved into the maze that was Journey, the more he wanted to get to the heart of her. It wasn’t smart.

In fact, it was downright dangerous.

He tightened his grip on her neck, enjoying the way she gasped and arched her back, instinctively offering her breasts to him. “I know enough, Duchess. Choose. All or nothing.”

Still, she hesitated. “I need it like it was before. Rough and right there in the moment.” Her hazel eyes begged him not to ask any further questions.

He had questions, no matter that her issues weren’t his business. The questions could wait—would probably wait forever. The tension in Journey’s body spoke of a woman anticipating a blow, expecting him to tell her that what she wanted was fucked and to demand to know what had happened to her to make this her version of comfort.

Frank didn’t say a damn thing. It wasn’t his place to judge. Her needs matched his. What more was there to say?

A whole hell of a lot.

He took a slow breath, drawing oxygen deep into his lungs and releasing his anger on the exhale. This wasn’t about him. This was about her, about giving her a safe space in the only way she’d accept from him. For now. He wanted one thing he had no business wanting—her trust.

“I know, Duchess,” he repeated. Trust me. Words he couldn’t say because they would only ensure she would end this here and now, and that was something Frank refused to have happen. He might have rather started things between them when the world wasn’t about to fall on their heads, but he’d learned to roll with the punches and make the best of any situation.

She swayed, leaning hard against his hand. “I’m in, Frank. Don’t make me regret it.”

Regret was the one thing he wouldn’t allow between them. Which was why Frank kissed her hard. He took her mouth, reacquainting himself with the taste of her even as she went soft against his chest. She tasted like heaven, and he would have given his left arm in that moment to be able to take this where they both wanted it to go.

But not tonight.

Not like this.

Frank scooped her into his arms and strode for the guest bedroom. He kept a stranglehold on his control even as Journey kissed his shoulder, his neck, his jaw. Only the knowledge that he’d lose her for good if he let this happen tonight had him lowering her to her feet and kissing her again.

And then he stepped back. “Good night, Duchess.”

Journey blinked. “But you just said…” Shock bled into something akin to hurt. “I see.”

“I don’t think that you do.” Frank clasped her chin in an unyielding grip. “What happened today fucked with you, Journey. You’re on the ropes and you don’t know which way is up, and I’m not such a bastard that I’ll jump into your bed while you can’t give consent.”

“I did give consent, asshole.”