King of Pain (Lords of Las Vegas #5)

Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Luke

Kate cooks dinner, but man, she’s been quiet all afternoon. After talking to her boss, I felt miles better. I had solved the problem my family and our business had created.

I could make love to her again, and not feel like a complete fraud. And yeah, I’m fucking aware I just said the words make love instead of just calling it fucking. But that’s how it feels with Kate.

Like I’m making love. When I’m inside her with her arms around me, her eyes on me, there is a connection between us I’ve never felt before.

Maybe it’s time to tell her about my family.

At first, I just wanted her to get to know me. And once she did, I didn’t tell her because I knew it would bring up a whole host of questions.

Like, if they’re that rich, why haven’t I been helicoptered back to Vegas?

Which would be a very valid question to ask.

“Kate.”

She turns to me, her brow scrunched. “Kate?”

“That is your name.”

“You only use it when it’s about to get dangerous or we’re in the middle of sex. I know we’re not doing the latter...”

Shit. That sounds right. A hazard of dating such a smart woman. “I picked up a few things in town while you were grocery shopping.”

I’m distracting. Again. I meant to go in the grocery store with her. Then take her shopping in the boutiques that fill the Durango downtown.

Instead, I dropped her at the grocery store, which was probably stupid and dangerous, and went to buy her gifts without her.

The thing is…

I’m starting to understand that I might want Kate in my life way longer-term than I first intended.

The more sex we have, the more I want her.

She’s smart and beautiful and she looks at me with not just desire, but admiration. And not of my money.

Of me.

Like she sees a man who’s worth something. But the longer I go without explaining that I’m a Kincaid…

She knows my name is Kincaid.

I technically haven’t lied. Well, not until the part where I explained why we couldn’t leave.

But I’ve kept out a fair number of details and I’m trying to figure out how and when to tell her.

“What’d you get?” she asks as she turns the stove down. “Actually. Hold that thought. I’ll be right back.” Then she disappears into the bathroom. I make my way out to the truck, getting out the bags I have behind the seat.

When I start to go back inside, she’s coming down the porch with a bucket in hand. “Love?”

She blushes. “Toilet won’t flush. I just need a bucket of water. I’ll be right back.”

I’ve got four bags in my hand, but I skip past her, setting them down on the porch. “I can get that for you.”

She shakes her head, already making her way toward the river. “I’m not making you get my toilet water. I love this place, but man, it can be tough sometimes.”

I’m catching up to her as she reaches the top of the bank. “Sweetheart, let me help you up and down the bank at least.”

She turns to look at me as she steps, and I realize the mistake a second before it happens. She’s not watching where she’s going.

She steps into air, flails backwards and then disappears, sliding down the bank.

I surge forward, reaching the edge in time to watch her plunge into the water, bucket floating away.

I’m down the bank in two steps, diving in after her.

I slice through the fast-moving water, narrowly avoiding a rock and reach her in what’s likely a few seconds but feels like an eternity.

Wrapping my arms around her, I push up, breaking the surface of the water with her in my arms.

She gasps in a breath, her eyes wide with fear. “Luke.”

“I’m here, sweetheart.” I pull her close and kiss her forehead even as she winces away. “What’s wrong?”

I don’t wait for the answer as I kick toward the shore, quickly reaching shallow enough ground to walk out.

My boots are slippery with all the water, but I make it up the bank anyway.

“My hip,” she pushes out the words, pain making her voice high and tight.

“Fuck,” I growl, heading for the house. “How bad?”

“I don’t…” she sucks in another breath, “know.”

I pull her closer as gently as I can. “You’re going to be all right, love.”

Her arms come around my neck, her face pressing into my neck. I have this irrational anger toward Mason. We should be on a helicopter back to Vegas. Kate should not…

“I’m so stupid,” she’s murmuring into my skin. “I’ve gone up and down that bank a thousand times. I just…”

“It’s not your fault. I distracted you.”

I bang into the house and head straight for the bedroom. Gently laying her down, I peel off her jeans, her wince cutting right through me.

As soon as I get the pants off, I can see the color already blooming on her skin.

“Shit,” I rumble, pulling the pants the rest of the way down her body.

“No, it’s okay,” she’s still breathing fast, but her voice sounds more normal. “The pain is already receding. I think it might just be a bone bruise.”

My teeth grind together as I run a gentle hand up her leg. “We should see a doctor.”

“Let me just do a few tests.”

“On yourself?”

“With your help.” She points down. “Put your hand under my knee, like this, and the other under my foot. I want to test the pain when I flex the hip.”

She has me gently manipulate the hip socket, bending it this way and that. “I didn’t hurt the bones.” She props on her elbows to give me a smile. “That’s good.”

Her shirt is plastered to her body, her stomach exposed, nothing but a pair of little bikini briefs clinging to her skin.

I slowly remove my hands from her skin. “That’s good. Good.” And then I catch a whiff of something burning.

Standing up, I turn and head out to the kitchen. She’d turned the burner way down, but it’s been sitting on simmer and the food has started to burn.

“Damn it,” she yells from the bedroom. But I smile. That’s my Kate.

And she is my Kate. I’m starting to see that.

Taking the food off the burner, I turn off the stove and scrape all the good food off the top into a bowl.

Kate appears in the kitchen in a fresh loose tank top. The kind with low arm holes that are adorable.

The problem?

She’s not wearing a bra. I can see the curve of her tit and the tank is short enough that I’ve got a great view of her ass too. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“The bed is wet,” she murmurs, wrinkling her nose. “And other than a nasty bruise, I think I’ll be fine.”

I grimace, setting down the pan. “Don’t make me put you back in myself.”

I know she’s feeling better because she gives me a cheeky grin. “How about the couch instead?”

I set down the bowl and saunter over to where she’s standing. Normally, I’d grab an ass cheek and pull her into the cradle of my hips. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers back. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, and I am so grateful you once again rescued me.”

I trace the opening of one of the tank sleeves, my finger running over the side of that plump and perfect breast. “You gonna eat in just that?”

“Putting on pants seemed… difficult.”

My hands skim down her belly. “You gonna be well enough to let me have you for dessert?”

Her skin instantly flushes. “I’m guessing we can manage.”

“In that case, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

Hearing her cum will most definitely help relieve the hectic worry that’s making my chest tight.

I told Kate I wasn’t boyfriend material.

I meant it.

But man, she’s got me acting a lot like a man who wants to be around full time. I can barely keep my hands to myself and don’t even get me started on the protective bubble I want to wrap her in.

I fix two plates, bringing them out to the living room. She’s stretched out on the two-seater couch, and I hand her a plate, gently lifting her legs to slide under them.

I have this feeling like this is absolutely where I’m meant to be.