Bonus Chapter Denham King Alternate POV
BONUS MATERIAL
Denham King Alternate POV
Elevator Meeting
That damn woman drives me mad. Why she can’t leave me alone is beyond me.
Yes, I’ve made my bed and now I’m fully aware that I’m lying in it.
The problem is that it feels old and uncomfortable, it doesn’t do anything for me anymore.
In fact, I think the whole thing with Amy is starting to make me feel ill.
She has trouble taking no for an answer, and I know she’s going to be relentless until I make it clear that we’ve reached the end of our … our … well, whatever it is we have.
I jab my finger into the button to take me down to the ground floor and my foot taps with impatience.
I have stacks of paperwork, which has to be done this week, meetings with investors to potentially expand The Kingdom as a brand and open more establishments, but all of this takes time.
It’s something I’m desperately short of and that woman …
geez, she ruffles my feathers and not in a good way.
If I can get the investments and move forward, I can buy her out and then I might just be able to breathe again.
My chest squeezes as I recall the events that led me to depend on Amy for comfort.
It’s not often I reminisce. Delving too deeply opens wounds that have never fully healed, will never fully heal. A fucking great big cavern in my chest.
The elevator door opens and a body slams into me. I open my mouth to berate the person that has carelessly plastered herself across my body. I am not in the mood for this today.
Then I look down.
Dainty hands press against my chest as the culprit struggles to right herself.
I grip both of her shoulders to steady her and watch as her gaze travels from the floor, slowly upwards along my body.
I don’t miss the subtle flair of her nostrils as her senses force her body to explore what’s right in front of her.
Her fingers tighten against my chest and I feel her nails pushing in my skin. The small gesture makes my dick twitch.
Fucking hell, King.
Her blue eyes meet mine and my heart slams into my ribs. She’s fucking beautiful and sexy and … bruised. Her creamy flesh is broken and blackened and I want to reach down and stroke it.
I’m torn. I’m hit by her natural beauty and drawn in by the way she fits just right in my hands, against my body, but I’m sickened by the vicious black and purple bruising that marks her defined cheekbone.
And there’s no light in her eyes. She has beautiful eyes, they could be captivating with a sparkle.
What would it take to make them spark? I bet they glisten when she comes.
Realizing I’ve been staring at her far too long, I quickly mask my thoughts and try out a smile on her. It works.
“My apologies, Miss …?”
I watch as she reacts to a shiver that looks like it travels the length of her spine before she stutters.
“Uh, Jamesson. Miss Jamesson,” she answers, her voice small and breathy.
She shifts around nervously and her eyes dart to the door of the elevator. She wants to leave, but I don’t want to let go of her just yet. She has me magnetized.
Then she smiles.
It’s a nervous smile, but it touches the corners of her eyes and I get a glimpse of her honest beauty.
I slide my hands down her bare arms, letting my thumbs skim over her inner elbows and down the underside of her forearm.
I don’t miss her sharp intake of breath and the way she looks up at me with her full lips parted just slightly so I can see the wet of her tongue.
My hands continue to slide until I reach the very tips of her fingers and her pads touch mine.
She breaks. Her nervousness gets the better of her and she steps to the side, scurrying into the elevator and staring at the back wall. It’s just as well. If she turned and looked back at me, I’m not sure what I’d do.
Yes, I do.
I’d kiss her. I’d claim her, right here, right now.
Then she’d probably run for the hills, you dumbass.
For fuck’s sake, get a grip, man.
Sure, she’s pretty, actually, she’s more than pretty. She’s probably the most captivating woman I’ve ever seen, and yes, that’s definitely the fastest reaction I’ve ever had to anyone. I want more. Fuck me, do I want more.
I want my name to roll from her tongue in both a whisper and a scream.
I want to light a fire in her wounded eyes.
I need a fucking cold shower and a strong coffee … and some looser fitting slacks before I suffer from acute zipper strain.