The Fearless King (The Kings #2)(5)

Damn it. What was she doing? She’d just called Frank a jackass. Worse, she’d told him he was nothing—less than nothing. Journey closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself. If she needed an indicator of just how screwed up today had gotten, the lack of filter for the words erupting from her mouth more than confirmed it.

Frank wasn’t some stranger she’d never see again after acting like a jerk. He owned half of Houston, which meant Kingdom Corp—and Journey—came into contact with him professionally time and time again. He was also good friends with Journey’s cousin, and he’d won over her best friend as well. Journey would have to deal with him outside of the professional sphere, too. Oh, what a tangled web we weave.

Damn it, I have to apologize.

“Frank.” She spoke without opening her eyes. Just get the words out and then you can leave. Just fix this. “I was out of line. I’m sorry. You don’t have to babysit me and I won’t make a scene. I’ll grab a cab right now and get out of your hair.”

“Duchess.” Instead of coming from behind her, his voice sounded in front of her. Directly in front of her.

She opened her eyes and bit down a yelp. Frank stood a few inches away. Even though she wore heels, Frank towered over her. He stared at her like he believed that if he focused hard enough, he could pull her thoughts from her head. Trust me, Frank, neither of us wants that. Finally, he frowned. “What’s wrong? I thought it was just a bad day, but it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

The temptation rose to confess everything and throw herself on his mercy. He might not have a nurturing bone in his body, but he was all warrior. She’d bet her last dollar that he would have a problem with her father on sheer principle. Nothing personal, of course. Just taking care of business and cleaning up the trash. Everyone in Houston knew how that ended. People in Frank Evans’s way didn’t last long. She gave herself several seconds to picture her father’s downfall, to luxuriate in the image of him broken and losing what little he cared about in the world. It would be glorious.

She couldn’t do it.

To admit the truth was to open Pandora’s box. Some things couldn’t be unsaid, and while Frank might look at her like she was an idiot sometimes, he still saw her as a strong woman. Not a victim.

“Journey.”

The shock of hearing her actual name from his lips propelled her into motion. If he kept talking in that deep, steady voice, she’d compromise what little strength she had left. She’d spent too much of her life weak and depending on others to shield her. Doing it now, with a man who was barely more than a stranger? Out of the question. She had to leave and she had to leave now.

But when she moved, it was to sway toward him. Frank caught her hips, his big hands easily holding her in place. This was where he’d set her away from him and say something cutting to slam her back into reality.

Except he didn’t say anything at all.

Frank’s gaze went hot and his fingers pulsed on her hips, the slightest of movements that had her forgetting what little common sense she had left and tilting her face up to his. Their lips touched, and the world around them held its breath. Another mistake in a long list of mistakes. There was no backing down. No turning back time to pretend none of this ever happened. She shifted closer and pressed herself against his solid body. The man didn’t seem to have a soft spot on him. Good. Journey ran her hands up his chest and nipped his bottom lip. Hard.

Just like that, the world sprang into motion again. Frank moved. One second Journey was wondering how far to take this, and the next he’d spun them around and pinned her against the door. He ran his rough hands down her sides, over her ass. Touching her everywhere. Anywhere. Yes, yes, yes.

He tore his mouth from hers and yanked her dress strap down to bite her shoulder. “You want a distraction, Duchess.” He soothed the spot with his tongue and kissed her collarbone, the soft scrape of his teeth against her skin making her shiver. “I’ll give it to you. On one condition.”

She could barely think past his hands on her thighs, banding around them hard enough to bruise. Each touch. Each bite. Each rough kiss. It all towed her inch by inch back to earth, back to the person Journey King really was.

At least the person she was when her personal demons didn’t show up to rub her face in the past.

No. No thinking. There’s only Frank.

She arched against him, but he held her immobile. Journey cursed. “What condition?”

“After this, you tell me what’s going on.” He sucked hard on her neck, and her knees buckled. Frank spoke against her skin. “The truth, Duchess.”

“Okay.” She lied through her teeth. Anything to keep this going, to ground herself, to banish the fears nipping at her heels for a few minutes.

He lifted her and moved between her thighs, pinning her more effectively. It should have made her feel trapped, but she couldn’t think about being pinned into place with Frank’s tongue and teeth working her neck. He licked the pulse point in the hollow of her throat. “I’m not going to be gentle.”

This is what I need.

She let her head drop back against the door, baring her throat to him completely. “I don’t want you to be.”

He leaned back enough to look at her—really look at her. “You just had two shots. If you’re drunk—”