A Secret for a Secret Read online

  “I’m in my forties, not my eighties; you don’t need to worry about my arteries.” He pulls into the driveway and shifts the car into park. “Tomorrow morning I have a meeting, so you don’t need to be in until closer to eleven.”

  “I don’t remember seeing anything on the schedule. Did I miss something? Do you need me to pull anything for it?”

  He slips the keys out of the ignition and opens the door. “You don’t need to worry about anything. It’s contract negotiations, and I can’t really talk about it yet.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine. It’s a private meeting, and you’ve been working so hard, I figured you wouldn’t mind sleeping in.”

  We’re usually out of the house by seven and home sometime after five. I don’t mind getting up early, but sleeping in midweek would be amazing. And Seattle doesn’t have a game tomorrow night, only practice, which means Kingston doesn’t need to be in bed early.

  He’s not much of a nighthawk, always dropping me off at home by nine forty-five so he can get to bed by ten thirty, which is apparently late for him. He’s an interesting guy with some funny quirks, but I like them. And him.

  “You don’t have to tell me twice.” I kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks, Dad. We’ll have a movie night next week. You can even pick the movie.”

  “It’s a date.” He smiles, but it looks wistful. “Have fun tonight with King, and be safe.”

  “Kingston’s quite literally the king of safe. He drives like he’s taking the learner’s permit test every time.”

  “I know. If there was ever a guy who might stand a chance at deserving you, it’s him.”

  “You have blinders on when it comes to me, Dad, and I love you for it.” My phone buzzes in my pocket, the tone telling me it’s my boyfriend messaging me.

  “I love you back, kiddo.” My heart squeezes when he turns toward the house and his smile turns sad in the reflection in the windows.

  He really needs a girlfriend.

  I pull my phone out of my purse and check my messages. Kingston usually favors nice restaurants. The kind where I get to dress up and look pretty, and he wears a tie and jacket. Usually he’s a polo and khakis guy, but I find the whole suit jacket and tie thing works well for him. Pretty much every single state of dress works for him, actually.

  However, tonight I would like to take control of this date. The regular season has already started. Kingston is a saint at away games. He never tries to sneak into my room late at night to fool around, out of respect for my dad and his presence next door, and because he takes his job seriously. And I’m fully on board with this, because I also respect my dad and his role, and the fact that Kingston needs to be rested before a game.

  But I’m tired of only getting to second base, like I’m in high school all over again. I want sexually explosive Kingston to come out and play. I figure in order to make that happen, I need to push a few of his buttons and break his ironclad resolve.

  So as soon as I’m in the door, I head for the bathroom and strip down so I can take care of business. While I get my personal grooming supplies out, I call Kingston.

  “Why aren’t I looking at your beautiful face right now?”

  “Because I’m getting ready for you, and I’d prefer it if you didn’t see my predate face.”

  “You’re effortlessly stunning, Queenie, inside and out.”

  My stomach does that fluttery thing, and I grin at the compliment. “Well, you’re going to be looking at me for hours tonight, so I’m trying to maintain an air of elusiveness.”

  “I’m counting down the minutes.” If those words came out of anyone’s mouth other than Kingston’s, it would sound like a line, but when he says things like that, I believe he’s being genuine. “I made reservations for seven thirty at a place not far from you, but I can definitely move it up if you want me to come get you sooner.”

  I check the time. If I’m quick about getting ready, I’ll have plenty of time to thwart his plan. “Seven thirty is perfect. Since it’s close to me, you’ll be here around ten past?”

  “Oh, yeah, sure, okay. Ten past seven works.” I love that he sounds disappointed.

  “Great. See you then. Can’t wait!” I make a kiss sound and wait for him to say bye before I hang up.

  Twenty minutes later I’m freshly showered, groomed, and dressed for the occasion. The Uber ride takes less than twenty minutes, which is good, because King is always on time, if not early, so I arrive on his doorstep just before six forty, which is plenty of time to circumvent his picking me up.

  In the short weeks since we started dating, I haven’t been back to Kingston’s house again. Mostly he picks me up at my place, but he always stops in to talk to my dad first, which often leads to long conversations about hockey-related stuff. It’s sweet, but it also means that Kingston has been cockblocking us ever since he officially asked me to be his girlfriend.

  I’m about done with that.

  I’ve hit the top stair on the porch when his door swings open. He lives in a big house in a nice neighborhood. In fact, a lot of his teammates live around here, based on the addresses we have on file. The front porch is decorated with pretty plants, two chairs, and a small table. I have a feeling they’re more for decoration than use; this isn’t the kind of neighborhood where people hang out on their front porch and drink coffee in the morning.

  “Hey. I thought I was supposed to pick you up.”

  “I was ready sooner than I expected to be, so I figured I’d come to you.” I brush by him before he can make a move to step outside. “And I’m not really feeling the whole going out for dinner thing, so I think it would be best if you cancel the reservation, and we can have a night in instead.”

  “You mean here?” He jams his hands in his pockets, and his eyes dart around nervously.

  “Yes, here. Let’s order takeout. I don’t have to be at work until eleven tomorrow and your practice isn’t until noon. Let’s stay up late and watch a movie and cuddle on your couch.” Naked. I glance around the foyer. Like Kingston, it’s very tidy and well maintained.

  The last time I was here, I was too busy making out with King to pay attention to my surroundings, and in the morning I was rushing to make a quiet exit.

  I kick off my shoes and head down the hall. There are a couple of interesting pieces of art on his walls. Not stock pictures bought from some home-decor store but real art, possibly from someone local. I like that idea.

  I keep going, though, determined now that I’m here and in his space once again. When I reach the living room, I run my hand along the back of the leather sectional couch. Memories from that night—new ones I’d forgotten until now—surface.

  We’d kissed our way down the hall and bumped into the couch, and I’d ended up sitting on the back of it, my legs wrapped around King’s waist. I shrug out of my jacket, toss it over the arm, and hop up onto the back of it now, exactly as I’d been then.

  Kingston’s hands are still shoved in his pockets, and he rocks back on his heels. “You’re sure you don’t want to go out for dinner? It’s a nice place. I haven’t taken you there before, and it’s a favorite of mine.” His throat bobs with another nervous swallow, and his gaze stays fixed on my legs as I cross them.

  “Why don’t you want to be alone with me?”

  He rubs the back of his neck. “It’s not that I don’t want to be alone with you.”

  “But . . .”

  His tongue peeks out to wet his bottom lip. “I’m trying to date you.”

  “We’ve been out four times in the past two weeks, and that’s with your insane schedule and all the travel. We also see each other pretty much daily. I think that all qualifies as dating, and it still doesn’t explain why you look like a caged rabbit right now.”

  “I want to be a good boyfriend.”

  “You are a good boyfriend.” He’s a great boyfriend. The best I’ve ever had. Almost too good to be true, really.

  He looks at his feet, a
nd the tips of his ears go red. “I’m trying to keep myself in check when I’m with you, but it’s hard when we’re alone.”

  “Why would you want to keep yourself in check?”

  He blows out a breath. “I want to show you that I appreciate more than your body.”

  “I think you’ve covered that base pretty well with the whole asking my dad permission to date me, taking me out for dinner multiple times, and spending money on me without expecting a blow job at the end of the night.”

  “Can we not talk about that?”

  “About what?”

  He motions to his crotch. Up until now I haven’t paid attention to it, but I sure am now. Kingston is hard. Rock hard, if I had to guess, considering I can see the outline of the ridge at the head, pushing up against his khakis.

  “It doesn’t look like you want me to stop talking about it.”

  “I’m struggling right now, and you’re not making it any easier, Queenie.” He’s almost . . . snippy. Which is new.

  I can see it in the tic of his jaw and the way his fingers twitch at his sides. He’s right on the edge, and I intend to push him over so I can experience his glorious free fall.

  “Tell me what you’re struggling with.” I crook a finger, beckoning him. “Maybe I can help.”

  He shifts his weight from foot to foot, shuffles forward a step, and mumbles, “Control.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling too widely. It really is commendable how hard he’s trying to behave. I’m not sure exactly why he feels compelled to stay stalled out at second base for so long, but I’m pretty sure I can fix that problem.

  I slide a single finger up my thigh, bunching the material.

  Kingston follows the movement. When I’m an inch away from revealing the color of my underwear, I pause. “Why do you feel like you need to stay in control?”

  He licks his lips, his hot gaze shifting up to mine. “Because the last time you were here I ruined your panties.”

  “I didn’t mind. And I wore cheap ones tonight, just in case.” I take the opportunity for what it is and lift my dress over my head, tossing it on the floor. My bra and panties are lace and satin from the bargain bin, because I am very much hoping for a repeat of last time. “It’s okay if you want to lose control with me, King. I definitely want to lose control with you.”

  He exhales a shaky breath, and his gaze moves over me in a hungry sweep. The smolder in his eyes sparks and flames. He crosses the room in four long strides and comes to an abrupt halt in front of me. His hands curl into fists, flexing and releasing as a low groan bubbles up from his chest. Still fighting to keep his leash on.

  I uncross my legs and hook my foot around the back of his knee, tugging him closer.

  His threads of control pull tight, threatening to snap.

  He moves into the empty space between my thighs, and his hand shoots out, sliding into the hair at the nape of my neck to anchor there. His other hand runs up my bare thigh to cup my ass, fingertips digging in hard as I wrap my legs around his waist. I moan when his erection presses up against my stomach.

  He tips my head back, lips only a breath away from mine, eyes dark with need and lust. His tongue peeks out to touch the imperfection in his front tooth. “You are entirely too much of a temptation to resist.”

  “So stop resisting.”

  I expect him to give in and kiss me, but instead he drops his head and drags the tip of his nose along the column of my throat, lips following until he pauses at my ear. “You may need to set some parameters for me, my queen, so I know how out of control I’m allowed to get here.”

  I shiver in anticipation at his low warning tone and this new endearment. “No parameters.”

  He pulls back, lips temptingly close. “None?”

  I bite the edge of his jaw, enjoying the slight sting and tug at the base of my skull when his fingers tighten in my hair. “I’ve been waiting for months to get back into your bedroom.” I arch up and nibble his bottom lip. “Lock the Boy Scout in the closet and let yourself off your leash, King.”

  CHAPTER 14

  UNRESTRAINED

  Kingston

  I very rarely lose control.

  Actually, that’s untrue.

  Pre-Queenie I very rarely lost control. Now it seems every time I’m alone with her, the word becomes an elusive, untenable concept. Especially when we’re unclothed. Which is part of the reason I’ve avoided bringing her back to my place after our dates. Or spending any time with her in either of our hotel rooms at away games. I’m trying to be respectful of my girlfriend and our situation.

  But tonight I planned to bring her back here. After I picked her up, brought her flowers and chocolate—those are sitting on my kitchen counter—and took her out for a nice dinner.

  Because I haven’t done more than kiss her in the past two weeks. I haven’t touched her, tasted her, made her come. And it’s literally all I can think about when I’m not on the ice.

  I haven’t been this hormonally driven since I was a teenager. And back then I used hockey to work out the frustration. It’s become an ineffective strategy where Queenie is concerned.

  In hindsight, the two-week wooing period in which I deprived Queenie and myself of any kind of gratification was probably not my smartest move. And now she’s given me explicit permission to loosen my reins.

  Queenie’s fingertips drift down my cheek. Even that innocuous contact sends a shot of heat down my spine and makes my erection twitch behind my fly. A tiny moan leaves Queenie’s lips, pulling me out of my head.

  “I’m taking you to bed.” It’s more growl than words.

  A shiver runs through her, and she clasps her hands behind my neck as I hoist her up. “That’s all I’m asking for,” she murmurs in my ear, nipping at the lobe.

  “I think you’re asking for a lot more than a make-out session and a snuggle.” I squeeze her lush bottom as I carry her down the hall.

  “An orgasm would be incredibly welcome.” Her lips part against the side of my neck, and her wet, warm tongue sweeps out, teeth pressing gently into the skin.

  I shoulder the door open and carry her over to the bed, laying her out on the freshly washed sheets. “Just one?” I ask as I climb up after her.

  Queenie yanks my shirt free from my pants and rises up on her knees, palms flattening against my stomach, pushing my shirt up. I pull it over my head and toss it on the floor while Queenie goes to work on my belt. “Last time I was here I lost track, so if you can make me so incoherent I forget how to count, that would be perfect.”

  “I should be able to manage that.” I slide a hand into the hair at the nape of her neck, fingers twisting in the satin strands and gripping gently. I tip her head back and brush my lips from the base of her throat to her chin, biting softly before I angle her head to the side and cover her mouth with mine. I groan when she eases her hand inside my boxer briefs and her soft, warm palm encases my erection.

  I mirror her actions, skimming a nipple with a fingertip and gliding lower, slipping into her satin and lace panties. I stroke slick, swollen skin and murmur against her lips, “You’re already wet for me.”

  “That shouldn’t be a surprise,” Queenie chuckles breathily and whimpers when I circle her entrance.

  “Mmm, it was more of an observation than anything.” I ease a single finger inside her, and she moans. I curl forward, finding the spot that makes her grip on my erection tighten and her rhythm falter. When I slip my hand out from between her thighs, she sucks in a breath and breaks the kiss.

  “What’re you doing? Don’t stop,” she whines.

  It’s my turn to laugh. “Don’t worry, my queen, you’ll get what you want.” My fingers are still twined in her hair. I drag my sex-wet finger across her bottom lip, then suck it between mine. “You taste like you’re ready to come,” I whisper.

  “Please, King.” She squeezes my erection.

  I brush the tip of my nose against hers and ease my hand back into her panties. �
�Are you? Ready to come?” This time I push two fingers inside and feel the slight pulse as I brush her clit with my thumb. “I think maybe you are.”

  I watch her face as I move my fingers inside her, enthralled by the sweet moans and whimpers that grow louder and lower with every curl and pump. She releases my erection so she can grip both of my shoulders, nails digging in as she rolls her hips. “Please tell me your mouth is next.”

  “As soon as you come you can ride my tongue,” I assure her.

  Apparently that’s the right thing to say, because she clenches around my fingers, body shaking with her first orgasm. I don’t even let her ride it out. Instead, I yank her panties down her legs—I don’t destroy them, though—and, like the last time we were in my bed, I stretch out and move her to straddle my face so I can bring her to orgasm again with my mouth while she takes me in hers. When she’s come twice more, I lay her out so her head rests on the pillows and kneel between her parted thighs. Her hair is wild and tangled, lips swollen, cheeks flushed. Her eyes are glassy and soft.

  I use the head of my erection to tease her wet, swollen sex. “Tell me what you want.” I know what I’d like to happen now, but I want to make sure we’re on the same page.

  “More of you.” She stretches out her legs and rests her heels on my shoulders. “All of you.”

  I kiss her left ankle and drag the head down, nudging at her entrance. “Do you want me to fill you up?”

  She moans and fists the sheets, toes curling. “Please, yes, God.”

  I shift her leg so I can reach the nightstand drawer.

  “What’re you doing?”

  I pause. “I should get a condom?” I don’t know why it comes out as a question. It’s definitely what I should do. It’s the safest, smartest option.

  “I get the shot. Every three months. I’m safe.” She bites her lip, uncertain. “You can pull out if you’re worried.”

  “I’ll make a mess of you.”

  “I don’t mind. We can take a shower together after.” She gives me a coy smile. “You can clean me up after you get me all dirty.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “You really are perfect for me, you know that?”