The Fearless King (The Kings #2)(39)

Distraction meant danger for her.

But she’s in fucking danger right now, and I’m only making it worse.

And round and round he went.

There was no black and white in this situation—only gray. Frank couldn’t shake the feeling that one wrong step would send Journey tumbling past the point of no return and leave her truly broken.

He couldn’t be responsible for that.

He paid the bartender and followed her at a more moderate pace. By the time he reached the lobby, Journey had a hotel key in her hand. She didn’t look at him as he fell into step beside her and they walked to the elevator. Silence reigned on the ride up to their floor and the short walk to the room. She closed the door, twisted the lock, and then slumped against it. “I just can’t help but keep throwing myself at you, no matter how many times you tell me no. Isn’t that the definition of insanity?” She laughed, the sound filled to the brim with despair. “I’m drowning, Frank. No matter how many moves I make, he’s always two steps ahead, and he knew exactly what buttons to push to make the ground fall out from beneath my feet.”

Frank stopped thinking so damn much and reacted on instinct. He pulled Journey into his arms and held her tightly. She felt so slight like this, as if a sharp word would send her breaking into a million pieces. Finally, slowly, she lifted her arms and hugged him back. “Is this a pity hug?”

“What happened this morning in the office, Duchess?”

She tensed and then buried her face in his shoulder and let out a shuddering breath. “My father hired a shrink to come in and evaluate those holding executive positions in the company to see if they were fit to serve on the board—and maintain their jobs. She ambushed me today, and even though I knew it wouldn’t go my way, she basically had a bullet-pointed list designed to hit every single weak spot I have.” Another of those heartbreaking laughs. “I have more than a few.”

From a tactical standpoint, it made sense, but that didn’t stop Frank from wanting to bash that bastard’s face in for subjecting her to this. War. This is war. You can’t afford to forget that. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. The timing caught me off guard but the line of questioning didn’t.” She rubbed her nose against his shirt. “You smell criminally good.”

“Thanks.”

“Right. Focus.” Some of the tension bled out of her body and she melted against him. “There was one part of the so-called session that surprised me—she was hyper-focused on my relationship with you.” Journey raised her head to look up at him. “Something about you, specifically, has him pissed. I thought it might just be because you’re a force to be reckoned with inside of Houston, but the same applies to my cousin, and he hasn’t made any effort to contact Beckett.” She sighed. “I guess it could be old-fashioned racism, too. I just don’t know.”

“I think a good portion of it actually is old-fashioned racism.” He considered keeping his cards close to his chest, but ultimately Frank had no more answers than Journey did when it came to the question of Elliott’s fascination with him. “But you’re right—there’s more. He’s a bully and I challenged him when I showed up at your apartment. If he views you as his, that territorial feeling might be enough to drive him to attempt to run me off.”

“That sounds like him. He can’t stand losing, and my mother made sure he lost all four of us. He obviously never got over having his toys taken away.”

“Duchess—”

“You’re right. I’m sure you’re right. It’s the only thing that makes sense.” Her gaze fell to his lips and then jerked back to his eyes. “Sorry. I’m focusing. I promise.”

All his reasons for staying the hell away from Journey King disappeared in the face of her disarming smile. She fought so fucking hard to be strong, to not need anyone around her. She stood there in his arms and did her damnedest to respect the lines he kept drawing in the sand.

Fuck it.

What was one more sin to weigh his soul down?

Frank kissed her.





Chapter Eleven



Journey should have told Frank to fuck right off with his mixed signals. She should have gathered up what remained of her tattered pride, walked out of the hotel room, and shut the door firmly behind her. She should have done anything but slide her arms around his neck in silent demand for him to give her more. To make her forget.

Touch me. Purge the poison, if only for a little while.

It would come back. It always came back. Within hours, she’d be choking on the past and fighting herself as hard as she fought the new threats her father had leveled at her.

But she wouldn’t be doing it while Frank had his hands on her.

He kept one arm around her waist, clenching her to him, and lifted the other to grip the back of her neck. It grounded her, a physical reminder of where she was, of who touched her. Frank. He lifted his head slowly and studied her mouth as if memorizing the curve of her lips. “You’re sure.”

It wasn’t quite a question, but she nodded as much as she was able. “Yes.”

Still, he didn’t move. “You know the rules—you change your mind, we stop. No questions asked, no explanations required.”

Journey closed her eyes and inhaled his scent. This might very well be a pity fuck, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She needed what he offered, no matter the motivation behind it. I chose this. That was the only thing that mattered. “Kiss me again, Frank.”