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“Gabe—”
“That’s it, Princess. Beg me.”
Ding.
The air leaves my lungs with a whoosh, and I roll my head along the wall, wildly turned on and needing release. The doors part, and Kingston’s gaze locks with mine.
He smiles. It’s the kind of smile that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle with happiness.
But just as quickly, he schools his expression as he takes in the whole sordid scene.
“I see you started without us.”
2
KATHERINE
Alex and Kingston stride out of the elevator, and my fingers lose their grip on my dress. Gabe lowers my foot to the floor and sits back on his heels.
“She asked me so nicely.” He shoots a mischievous grin over his shoulder, completely unapologetic.
“No doubt,” King says, holding out a hand to me.
I take it, letting him pull me closer as I try to read his expression. His pretty, cool-green eyes aren’t sparkling like they normally do, but he seems relaxed. That calm, confident boy I’ve known most of my life.
Alex steps around us, giving Gabe a hand up. There’s a small shopping bag in his hand, but before I can ask about it, Gabe slides a hand across the small of my back.
“Thought you were going to show her around,” King prods.
The two men stare each other down.
“Don’t be jealous, K. You’ll get your turn. I didn’t have dessert with my dinner.”
It’s a little barb because they were pulled out of meetings. Not that Gabe had to come with Alex. Heck, Alex didn’t have to come either.
I’m sure Roman had everything under control.
“Aww. If I’d known, I would have brought you some of Momma’s tiramisu,” King says, letting Gabe’s jibe go. “It’s the best. Tell him, Kat.”
“It’s very good.” I squeeze King’s hand and then go into fix-it mode with Gabe. “I’d love to see your apartment.”
They lead me deeper into the luxurious penthouse, King’s fingers laced through mine, Gabe’s hand at my back. I don’t know what exactly I was expecting, but it wasn’t the colorful, cozy space.
Luxurious velvets and polished brass, sleek lines and plenty of curves. Floor-to-ceiling drapes and a breathtaking view of the city.
“Powder room,” Gabe says, pausing outside a small room that’s brimming with color. Were the jewel tones his idea or Alex’s?
Deep teals, vibrant emerald green, brilliant goldenrod, with plenty of soft, pale neutrals. The green dress I wore to the auction would be right at home here.
“The bedrooms are down that way,” he says, waving a hand toward a wide hall that runs the length of the building.
“And this is our entertainment room.”
It’s a large, square space with a massive screen to the right, flanked by sumptuous red curtains. They remind me of old-school Hollywood.
Gabe steps away from me and pushes two massive ottomans together. “I figure we’re not all going to fit in one bed.”
“We could get something custom-made,” King says. As much as he tries to deny who he is and the privilege he was born with, it still shines through from time to time.