Just This Once (The Kings)

Apparently Whip King is an asshole.

A well-built, pierced dick, get-on-my-knees-and-beg-for-another-taste grade-A asshole.

But goddamn did he look good in his dress uniform.

When I caught sight of him across the banquet hall, I sucked in a sharp inhale at the way my core clenched, instinctively missing the absence of being stretched around him as he gripped my throat and pounded into me.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. My one night of rebellion and I fucked a walking red flag.

I tamped down the irritation at my body’s instinctual response. The logical part of my brain knew he would be at the annual awards banquet, but despite me feigning a headache and attempting to make other plans, my mother insisted that this was important for my father, and I was guilted into going. When our eyes locked across the room and recognition—in addition to shock—flooded his features, I couldn’t stop myself from walking over to him at the bar and seeing if he really did remember me after all.

I should have let it go. A smarter me would have let him win that round. He was crass and a jerk. He walked away, and that could have been the end of it. Clearly the cut lines of his body and his filthy mouth had made me stupid.

I set my wineglass down on the bar top with a snap and marched across the dance floor, politely smiling and sidestepping a group of firefighters doing the Macarena. Whip and another firefighter were laughing and commiserating with two women I hadn’t met yet. The blonde tilted her head at me when I approached, while the brunette continued laughing at something the men were saying.

Lacking all decorum, I pasted on a bright smile. “Hi,” I interrupted. “So sorry. Can I just have a minute with Whip?” I placed my fingertips on the inside of his elbow, and he stiffened.

The women looked on in confusion as Connor’s eyes bounced between Whip and me.

Whip tried to shrug me off. “We’re kind of in the middle of something.”

The fuck you are . . .

I tightened my grip on the inside of his arm and breathed through a smile. “Chief Martin was hoping for a word.” I pulled his arm closer to me. “Back in a jiff!”

With a grunt that should not have sent tingles racing down my spine, Whip followed me. As soon as we were walking in the opposite direction I dropped my hand from his arm.

“What do you want, Prim?” he asked flatly.

“Stop calling me that.”

A lighthearted chuckle spilled from him. He’s enjoying this. “Fine, Miss Martin, what can I do for you?”

“Shut up and get over here.” I found the darkest corner of the banquet room and ducked into the hallway. “It’s Ward.”

“What?”

“My name. I’m not Emily Martin. I’m Emily Ward.”

Whip blinked and scanned my features.

“He’s my stepdad, but he raised me.” I lifted my chin. “So even if I would have introduced myself that night as Emily Ward—but, honestly, who even does that?—it wouldn’t have made a difference.”

Whip’s lips pressed together as he considered. His jaw flexed. “So why is the only picture that the chief has of you in his office from when you were a kid?”

Heat flooded my cheeks. “Oh my god, I hate that picture. It’s from like fifth grade, and Dad always said it was his favorite picture of me—that I would always be his Melly.”

Whip’s eyebrows shot up. “Melly?”

“Smelly Melly.” I pierced him with a pointed stare. “I was a weird kid, okay?”

His laughter rang out, and I shushed him. My teeth ground together. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you have something to say about nicknames, Whip?”

His flat stare gave nothing away. “Did you want something from me?”

My eyes flicked to his full lips. What I wanted—what my body wanted, and my head knew was smart—were two very different things.

My exhale was shaky. “I just didn’t want you to think that I knew . . .” I met his gaze. “Before.”

His eyes found the point in my neck where I was certain my heartbeat hammered through the thin skin. “You should have said something.”

“Like what, Whip? What was I supposed to say? ‘Oh hey, by the way, say hello to my dad at work tomorrow?’ Be real. I panicked and ran out.” My hands lifted in emphasis. “As one might do in that situation.”

His arms crossed and his gaze roamed over me. “Smelly Melly.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Oh my god, please forget I ever told you that.” I exhaled and tipped my face to the ceiling.

“I think Prim suits you far better.” His voice was velvet over gravel, encircling me in the protective darkness.

My body hummed for him. Like flames sparking and dancing around the other before merging into a blaze that destroyed everything around it, I was drawn to him.

Shadows darkened the intensity in his eyes, and I couldn’t look away. His gaze held me captive against my own warring emotions.

He stepped forward, crowding my space and gripping my hips through my navy satin dress. “It can’t happen again.” His warm breath floated over my tingling skin.

“I know.” The pull between us inched me closer, but I waved my hand between us. “You need to keep you and that thing away from me.”

“Thing?” He laughed quietly, not disturbing our echo chamber of restraint and tension. “Why do you keep gesturing at my dick, Prim?”

I scoffed. “Oh my god, I am not gesturing at your dick.” I looked around to be sure no one could overhear us.

One corner of his mouth crooked up as his gaze floated over my mouth. “I mean . . . you kind of were.”

I let loose an exasperated breath. “I swear, you are just like the men my dad always warned me about.”

Whip shook his head. With his height, he towered over me, filling my vision with only him. “And you are exactly the type of distracting woman your father warned me about.”

I straightened. “This”—I gestured between us—“is not a thing.” My mind wanted to retreat, but my body locked in place as Whip erased the inches between us.

A grunt vibrated in his throat. “Not at all. I am not friends with you, Prim.”

My chest was heavy. “I don’t even like you. You’re kind of a prick.” The grumble of his soft laughter sent heat pooling between my legs.

“Good.”

Another inch and his mouth could devour mine. I gripped his corded forearm—the hard muscles tightening and bunching beneath his suit jacket.

“Emily? Are you out here?” My mother’s voice startled me, and I leaned past Whip’s broad shoulder.

I went to push past him when his hand caught my upper arm. In the darkness his blue eyes formed intense, black pools. I raised my chin and willed my knees not to wobble. “This conversation is over.”

A soft rumble filled the space between us as his breath caressed the shell of my ear. “I bet if I lifted the hem of your skirt right now, I’d find your panties soaked, just for me.”

I tugged my arm free, annoyed that he was 1,000 percent correct. “You’d be wrong.” I swallowed past the lump that clogged my throat and leaned in close. An evil smirk crept across my face as my lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Because I’m not wearing any.”

I didn’t risk a backward glance and prayed that Whip—and the secret we shared—stayed hidden in the shadows.noveldrama