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I cup his cheek, making him look down at me. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He gives me that sort of tough guy chin lift as if to say, ‘I can handle it.’ But he shouldn’t have to. Not alone.
“We don’t have to talk about it, but I’m here if you need me.”
“I know. Really, I’m fine. All things considered.” He sighs, giving a slight eye-roll. “Thank goodness for Gabe.”
I laugh softly, dropping my forehead against his shoulder. “Those are four words I never thought I’d hear either of us say.”
“Yeah.”
I look up at him again. “I’m glad he was there for you. Panic attacks are no fun.”
“I’d rather have a root canal.”
“You and me both.” My hands on his shoulders, I give him another little squeeze. “But back to us...”
He ducks his head, blotting out the afternoon light, and slants his lips across mine. Warm, firm, working me steadily into a weak-kneed pile of want.
“I love it when you say that word.”
“What word?” I say against his lips.
“Us.”
My moan is soft and needy, an agreement and a plea.
But he lifts his head and slides his hands to my upper arms, prying me away from him. “We need to talk.”
“We were talking,” I tease.
He gets all stiff and awkward again. “I know, but this is important.”
“I don’t know that I like that sound of that.” I try to give a brave smile, but after all the warm, fluttery feelings from a minute ago, ‘talk’ feels like ice water to the face. Or a bomb.
He tugs me over to the sofa adjacent to the windows. “It’s not bad,” he says but sounds unsure.
No sooner does my ass hit the cushion than I hear voices downstairs. And then footsteps on the lovely curving staircase.
“I’m home! Where are you guys?” Gabe calls.
King’s chin jerks toward the door, and I try to read his expression. I thought after all this time knowing him, I’d seen everything there was to see on his face, but this, with his parted lips and slightly frantic lift of his brows, is new.
“Did Gabe say something I should know about?” I whisper. “Tell me quick.”
He darts a glance at me, curls in on himself a bit, and shakes his head. “Nah. Nothing like that.”
Good, because I’m not so far gone for the tech tycoon that I won’t yeet him into the Hudson if he said or did something to hurt my best friend.
“Up here,” I call.
His footsteps pick up the pace, and I imagine him taking the stairs two at a time. He comes through the door looking like he stepped off the cover of a magazine. Casual but polished.
There’s a soft whimper and whine sound, and ohmygod, I think it’s me. Kingston laughs.
“We did a bit of shopping,” King murmurs. “I might have forgotten to mention that.”
That’s an understatement. “You’re dressing my boyfriends, now?” I shoot him a smile and then meet Gabe halfway across the thick rug.