Chapter 28
Twenty-eight
Elise
The door bangs shut as I drag him inside. I don’t even reach for the lock. My only focus is Kingston, solid and warm and finally here.
His mouth finds mine, hot and hungry, and I gasp into him, fingers tangling in his hair. I tug, hard enough to make him groan, the sound vibrating against my lips. His jacket slips down his arm until he shakes free, letting it drop to the hardwood.
My palms skate over his shoulders and down the hard lines of his arms, greedy for the feel of him. He presses me back against the door, the wood against my spine, his body a furnace over mine. My breath stutters, my heartbeat racing like I’ve run miles.
He kisses me like he’s starved—like every second apart was an ache he couldn’t stand. The scrape of his jaw, the taste of him—warm, familiar, everything I’ve craved—pulls me deeper into the spiral.
“I missed you,” I manage between kisses, the words broken, rushed, but truer than anything I’ve ever said.
“I couldn’t stay away,” he breathes.
The confession sears through me, melting me.
I clutch his shirt, twisting the fabric, pulling him closer, though he’s already pressed tight against me.
His breath fans across my mouth, and I feel it everywhere—in the tremble of my hands, in the ache building between us, in the way my body knows his without hesitation.
We break only when we need oxygen, our mouths parting by inches, our foreheads pressed together. His hands frame my face, the pads of his thumbs grazing my flushed cheeks. His chest rises hard against mine, the thud of his heart echoing the wild rhythm in my own.
“You’re different,” he murmurs, his voice laced with wonder. “Stronger.”
The word lodges in my throat, both a compliment and a truth I’m still learning to believe. “I’ve been trying,” I admit. “I’ve worked hard, and I’ve learned a lot.”
“It sounds like it,” he cuts in, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth like he’s erasing doubt. His other hand slides down, splaying wide across my waist, pulling me close. “I’m proud of you, Elise. You have no idea how proud.”
My chest tightens, not from lack of breath but from the way he says this, like he’s known all along I could be this person, like my victories belong to him too.
My hands move over him, from the taut line of his shoulders to the back of his neck, needing contact everywhere, proof that he’s real. “You make me believe it,” I whisper, lips brushing the edge of his jaw, catching on the rasp of his stubble.
A low growl curls out of his chest. The heat between us doesn’t fade. It deepens, heavy with tenderness, every kiss and touch sharpened by the weight of what we’ve just confessed.
The heat spikes again, his hand sliding lower, his mouth brushing mine, promising more, when a floorboard creaks in the hallway.
We both freeze.
Footsteps sound on the stairs, steady and deliberate. The old beams of the building groan, and my stomach twists. Then the knock lands, firm and insistent.
“Elise.” Sebastian’s voice carries through the thin door, clipped and smug. “You’re not supposed to have overnight guests.”
My pulse spikes, nerves pricking under my skin. Kingston doesn’t move away. His body stays flush with mine, his jaw hardening as though Sebastian is standing in front of him.
Another knock, sharper. “Open up.”
I flinch, but Kingston catches my chin, forcing me to look at him.
His eyes blaze. “Don’t,” he whispers. “This is mine to handle.” Then, louder—his voice dropping into the commanding tone that always makes me shiver, he speaks to Sebastian.
“I’ve already spoken to Sasha. I’m not a guest. I’m staying at Chateau. ”
A pause. Then Sebastian’s voice again, sharper now. “Rules are rules, Elise. Break them, and you’ll regret it.”
Kingston doesn’t hesitate. “Unless you’ve forgotten who you answer to, you’ll take your complaint elsewhere.”
After a moment, the footsteps retreat, slow and reluctant, until the stair creaks again with his weight heading down.
Only then does Kingston let out a breath, the heat of it ghosting my lips. His forehead drops to mine, his mouth tugging into a grim smile. “He won’t bother you again.”
My laugh comes out shaky, a mix of relief and leftover adrenaline. Kingston’s hand tightens at my waist, protective even in the aftermath. For a moment, neither of us moves. The silence feels louder than Sebastian’s knock, heavy with what almost happened and what still simmers between us.
“He gets no say in this,” Kingston murmurs. “You hear me, Elise? No one tells us what we can or can’t have. Not him. Not anyone.”
My chest tightens, emotion rising fast and hot. I nod, fingers curling into his shirt. “I know. I just… I don’t want to make things harder.”
His gaze sharpens, protective fire in the depths. “You’re not making things harder. You’re surviving. You’re winning. And I’ll fight whoever I need to so you don’t forget that.”
My laugh breaks free, shaky at first but real. “You sound so sure.”
His mouth curves, slow and dangerous. “That’s because I am. And right now, I’m not letting anything take me away from you again.”
The heat that had cooled with Sebastian’s interruption roars back, fueled by Kingston’s certainty. My heart stutters as his hand slides to the small of my back, drawing me flush against him. His lips hover over mine, not kissing yet, just brushing close enough to burn.
I tilt into him, my fingers climbing the back of his neck. “Then don’t,” I whisper.
His answer is a growl against my mouth as he kisses me again—hungry, relentless, sealing his promise with every press of his lips.
We stumble together across the room, bumping into the desk before falling against the edge of my narrow bed. The frame squeaks under our weight, but I don’t care. I tug at his shirt, stripping it away, my palms gliding over bare skin.
He cups the back of my neck as he lowers me onto the mattress. The sheets are scratchy, the space too small for him, but his body eclipses everything else.
“You sure?” His eyes find mine as every inch of him trembles with restraint. “Because if I start—”
I cut him off with a kiss, fierce and unyielding. “Don’t stop.” My hands grip his shoulders, nails biting into his skin.
The last of his control snaps. His mouth crashes to mine, his body pressing me down. Clothes scatter, skin meets skin. Urgency tangles with tenderness, every touch carrying the weight of what we’ve been fighting for.
He rolls a condom on and looks at me. “Are you okay with this?”
“Never better.”
When he finally settles over me, the weight of him steals my breath.
My nails drag across his shoulders, and I can feel the strain in the way he trembles above me.
He pauses, giving me one last chance to stop him.
I don’t. I wrap my legs tight around his hips and pull, grinding against the thick length of him, leaving no doubt what I want.
The first push inside has me crying out, my head tipping back against the pillow. The stretch is sharp, overwhelming, and so good I can’t stop the broken sound that escapes me. He buries his face in my neck, groaning like he’s been starved for this.
“Jesus, you’re perfect,” he rasps, teeth scraping against my skin.
“Move,” I beg, nails raking down his back. “Please.”
He obeys, slow at first, each thrust deliberate, filling me inch by inch until I’m gasping, clutching, lifting to meet him.
The bed squeals under us, the cheap frame rattling against the wall with every shift of his hips.
We laugh breathlessly between moans, the absurdity of it crashing against the fire building between us.
“This bed’s not going to survive us,” I gasp, shoving at his shoulders only to pull him right back.
“Good,” he growls, snapping his hips harder, driving into me with a force that knocks the air from my lungs. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”
“Yours,” I choke out, wrapping tighter around him as he pistons into me, deeper and faster, his grip bruising on my hips. The sound of our bodies meeting—wet, frantic, desperate—fills the tiny room, and the heat spirals higher, unbearable.
He lifts my leg, driving deeper, and the angle has me shattering, my cry muffled against his mouth as pleasure rips through me.
My nails score his skin, my body clamping tight around him.
He follows with a strangled groan, thrusting hard once and then again, before he’s spilling into me, his whole body shuddering above mine.
We collapse together, sweaty, shaking, tangled in sheets too hot and twisted to matter. He props himself up just enough not to crush me, but I fist my hand in his hair and keep him close, my body still trembling with aftershocks.
“Don’t you dare move,” I murmur, grinning at the ridiculous tilt of the mattress beneath us. “If you roll even an inch, we’re both hitting the floor.”
He laughs, his lips brushing my collarbone. “Then I’m staying right here. Forever.”
Our breaths are jagged, laughter slipping out between gasps—shaky, disbelieving, real. He presses a kiss to my temple, softer than anything that came before, his hand stroking my cheek. “Worth the wait,” he whispers.
I smile, lips trembling, heart so full it aches. “Don’t ever leave.”
His answer is another kiss, deep and certain. A promise.
The air is still thick with heat as the urgency fades, replaced by something quieter.
Kingston shifts just enough for me to curl into him, my head pillowed on his chest. His skin is warm, the steady rise and fall of his breath already lulling me.
I listen to his heartbeat, each thud steadying the chaos still buzzing through me.
His hand finds mine, fingers threading, palms pressed together. He squeezes lightly, then brings our joined hands to his lips, brushing a kiss against my knuckles.
“Two weeks,” he murmurs into my hair. “You won’t face them alone.”
I close my eyes, letting the promise soak in. His chest rumbles under my cheek, the vibration of his voice grounding me in the here and now. Safe. Protected. Wanted.
He shifts so he can see my face. His thumb strokes over my cheek, brushing back a strand of damp hair, lingering like he can’t stop touching me.
I manage a smile. “You’re too big for this bed,” I whisper, even as I don’t want this moment to end.
He chuckles. “Then I’ll buy you a new one.” His lips press to my temple. “Hell, I’ll buy you ten.”
I laugh because he means it. But I don’t want ten beds. I only want him here.
“Or maybe just one for now,” he says, smirking. “Because this one sounds like it might not survive another round.”
Heat floods my cheeks, but I laugh, swatting his chest. Then I squeeze his hand tighter, as if I can hold him here by sheer will.