“I know you can do this, Jazz, but if you need a break at any time, just say the word. We’ll step out until you can regroup.” He bends his knees until our eyes are at the same level. “Okay?”
I gaze into his golden-green orbs and nod. “Okay.”
Kingston pulls me into a quick hug, kissing the top of my head, before opening the car’s passenger door and helping me in. We keep our conversation to a minimum as we drive, probably because I’m too busy focusing on my breathing to avert a panic attack. As we pull in front of the fancy hotel and Kingston bypasses the valet in favor of parking the car himself, I laugh, grateful for the sudden levity.
“I’m not giving those fuckers the keys to my baby,” he explains. “It’s one of the rarest cars in the world.”
I laugh again. “Of course not. No one drives your precious but you.”
“Damn straight,” he mutters, totally ignoring my awesome Gollum impression.
I raise a brow. “Well, now that you’ve said that, it’s the first thing I’m going to do when I get my license.”
Kingston scoffs as he slides the Agera into a parking spot and kills the engine. “Yeah, right. If I won’t let someone who parks cars professionally touch it, why would I hand the keys over to a brand new driver?”
I cross my arms over my chest, not missing the way his eyes travel to my cleavage as it’s pushed up.
“I bet you’d change your tune if I threatened to withhold sex.”
He gives me a good once over, making no attempt to disguise his desire. “Yeah, right. You’d be begging for my dick within hours.”
I tell my vag to slow her roll because the bitch really likes the visual Kingston’s words just conjured.
“You think so, huh? How about we test that theory now?”
The conviction in my tone is lacking, and with the way Kingston is smiling right now, I’d say he damn well knows I’m full of shit.
“Sure, Jazz. Let’s see who can hold out the longest. What do you say we make this interesting and add a little wager?”
I eye him skeptically. “What kind of wager?”
He thinks about it for a moment. “If I win—which we both know is going to happen—you owe me a blow job every day for a week straight.”
My lips turn up in the corners. “And what do I get when I win?”
“I eat your pussy until you’ve come at least three times for a week straight.”
I squirm in my seat. “You do realize neither one of those things is an actual punishment, right?”
Kingston’s a big fan of going downtown, and I don’t exactly mind returning the favor.
His shoulders lift. “Bragging rights.”
I shake my head, fighting a smile. “You’re an idiot.”
“Maybe.” He grins. “But I’d bet this two-point-five-million dollar car that your pussy is soaked right now just thinking about it. Shall I check?”
I flip him off in reply, but what I really want to do is pull my panties down and shove his face between my legs.
Kingston unfastens his seat belt and leans over the center console to lift my chin. “You feel better?”
My eyes drift shut when he pulls my lower lip between his teeth. “Yeah.”
I don’t know how this man can always sense what I need. He sees me like no one else can. Whether it’s tempting me with his body because he knows I need a physical release, or picking a stupid fight because it allows me to vent the frustrations running through my head, or playfully teasing me because I could use a good laugh, Kingston just knows. The funny thing is, I don’t think he even tries. He’s so attuned to me, it’s pure instinct.
Lately, it seems as if my soul is colored in every shade of gray. Kingston understands that better than anyone because the same war is waging inside of him. If I believed in fairy tales, I’d say we were fated for one another. Like, maybe everything has happened for a reason, and we were meant to fall back into each other’s lives at precisely the same moment in time. But then again, I’m not exactly a rescue-me-from-a-tower kind of girl, and Kingston Davenport is certainly no prince.
“You ready to do this?”
I take a fortifying breath. “Let’s get this shitshow on the road.”
CHAPTER TWO
JAZZ
Hundreds of eyes track us as Kingston and I walk into the lavishly decorated ballroom. Geez, I feel like I just stepped into a wedding reception, not a holiday dinner. The entire space is filled with round tables dressed in crisp white tablecloths, although most guests are standing around, mingling. Like Kingston promised, there’s a decent amount of guests in our age bracket, and every single one of them looks bored out of their minds. Can’t say I blame them.
A long, rectangular table sits toward the back of the room—I’m guessing it’s reserved for the Davenports and Callahans—complete with a few tall floral arrangements. Crystal chandeliers are glinting off the crystal goblets below while waitstaff are making their rounds, offering hors d’oeuvres and flutes of champagne. I grab a glass of bubbly from a nearby waiter and down half of it in one go. I’m not stupid enough to get drunk at this thing, but I need something to take the edge off. It’s either this, or sex in a coat closet, and I don’t think Kingston and I could get away with option número dos.
“Why are they all staring at us?” I whisper, stifling the urge to lift my middle finger in the air.
Kingston’s fingertips press into my spine as he guides me to the right. “They’re all staring at you, princess. You’re the sexiest belle of the ball.”
“It’s the dress.”
I surreptitiously scan the room, seeing if anyone triggers my perv-o-meter.
Kingston chuckles. “It’s not the dress, Jazz, although it is hot as fuck.”
My eyes narrow when I spot some politician-looking dude eyeing me like I’m a big, juicy ribeye. “Regardless, this is the last place I want to draw attention to myself.”
He laces our fingers together. “I know, but it would’ve happened no matter how you were dressed. Charles Callahan’s long-lost daughter is big news in this circle.”
“If that’s true, these people need to get a life.”
“I won’t argue with you there.” Kingston points his finger. “There’s Ains.”
My eyes follow Kingston’s finger to find his twin standing next to Reed. Ainsley looks absolutely gorgeous in her dark green one-shoulder gown. Its layered chiffon falls to the floor, and the color brings out the green in her eyes, really making them pop. For a little extra flair, there’s a dramatic slit up the front, showcasing her toned dancer’s legs. It’s sexy, yet classy, which suits her perfectly.
“Wow. You look incredible, Ains.”
Ainsley smiles as Reed wraps his arm around her. “Thanks, Jazz. You, too. That dress is... wow.”
A low whistle sounds from behind me right before I hear the familiar voice.
“Damn, ladies, you’re looking mighty fuckable tonight.”
Bentley sidles up to us while Kingston glares at him. I know Bent’s comment was absolutely harmless—especially because Ainsley was also included in that statement—but it still pushes my boyfriend’s buttons. It’s not like that’s a hard thing to do, though. Kingston has become even more in touch with his inner Neanderthal lately. Come to think of it, Bentley probably needles his bestie because it irritates him.