The Fearless King (The Kings #2)(58)
She hesitated, but ultimately obeyed, stretching her arms over her head and lacing her fingers together. He released her long enough to untangle the apron and toss it aside. Frank ran his hand up the center of her body to take her neck again. “You’re with me.”
She met his gaze directly, fully present in what they were doing. No hesitation. No fear. “I’m with you.”
He started moving again, picking up the motion that made her eyes go heavy-lidded and her body writhe as much as he’d allow. It felt good, so fucking good, to be inside her, to know that he was the one putting that hazy look on her face and chasing away her shadows.
Like maybe his armor wasn’t as tarnished as he’d let himself believe.
Frank guided her legs up to rest on his shoulders. The new position allowed him deeper, and she made that sexy-as-fuck whimpering sound with every stroke. He kept going, driving her slowly, inexorably back to the edge again. This time, when she came, he couldn’t restrain himself. He pounded into her, pursuing his own pleasure even as she went wild beneath him. Frank came with a curse and braced a hand on the table on either side of Journey’s limp body.
She wiped her forehead, leaving a trail of flour across her skin. “We’re fucked, Frank.”
Fucked about summed it up. “I know.” No matter what he told himself—told her—his response just now spoke louder than his words had. If he was actually able to leave Journey King the hell alone, the thought of her moving on to someone else wouldn’t make him damn near homicidal. He dipped down and pressed a kiss over her heart. “Come on.” He helped her to her feet as the oven timer dinged. “What’s that?”
“Breakfast.” She grinned. “Or maybe what we just did was breakfast and this is brunch? It doesn’t matter. It’s desperately needed calories.” She went to grab her apron off the floor, but Frank got there first.
He held it just out of reach and pointed at her discarded clothing. “Go put on some clean clothes before you burn off something vital. I’ll get the damn breakfast out of the oven.”
She raised her eyebrows suggestively. “Come now—I’ve been cooking naked since I moved out on my own. I have more than enough experience protecting my important bits.”
He blinked. Picturing her in his kitchen, wearing nothing but that ridiculous pink apron…Fuck. “Get dressed.”
“Bossy.” She put a little swing into her walk as if she knew he couldn’t keep his eyes off her ass. Flour marked her skin, and there was a nearly perfect white handprint on her hip that had him wanting to follow her upstairs to ensure that whenever she thought of this house, it was attached to memories of coming on his cock.
Get the fucking breakfast, asshole.
He managed to find the pot holders and get the thing out of the oven, and then he cleaned up the mess they’d made. A couple of minutes later, he heard Journey rushing downstairs and turned to meet her in the doorway. The look on her face stopped him cold.
She held up her phone, her skin bleached of color and her eyes too wide. “Eliza’s been in an accident. We have to go. Now.”
Chapter Seventeen
The trip back to Houston simultaneously took too much and too little time. Journey couldn’t seem to sit still, and Frank was smart enough to leave her alone as she paced back and forth in the plane. After they landed, he drove her to the hospital in silence, seeming to sense that she wasn’t capable of holding a conversation.
No reason at all to blame herself for what happened to Eliza. People got in car accidents all the time, and it was never part of some sinister plan.
But no matter how many times she told herself that, she didn’t quite believe it.
Frank pulled to a stop outside the hospital and grabbed her hand before she could rush from the car. “Duchess, look at me.”
Each second she sat still instead of rushing to her baby sister’s side was sheer agony. “I have to go.”
“Journey.” He tightened his grip until she lifted her gaze to his face. His expression might be the familiar cold lines, but there was sympathy in his dark eyes. “Sure you don’t want me to go in with you?”
No. “Yes.” She swallowed hard. “Anderson is closing ranks, which means family only.” She refused to think about who else was considered family. It didn’t matter if Elliott showed up—Eliza needed her, and so Journey would deal with their father. Full stop. She managed to squeeze Frank’s hand. “I appreciate it, though.”
“If you change your mind, or need anything, call me. Doesn’t matter the time.”
Warmth flared, eating away at the coldness that had wrapped around her as soon as she got off the phone with Bellamy. “Thank you.” She hesitated. “Would you do me a favor?”
“Of course.”
So easily, he answered her, as if favors were something Frank Evans handed out for free. Something changed between us, something big. She didn’t have the time or energy to pick apart what it was right then, but she appreciated it all the same. “This sounds crazy paranoid, but is it possible to pull the traffic cameras where she had the accident? I guess the cops will probably do that, too, but I’d feel better hearing the news from you.” It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the police, exactly—more that Journey didn’t trust anyone beyond a short list that included Samara, her siblings…and Frank.