Page 62 of The Kings of Kearny

Jakob shoved the keys in the ignition and turned the car on. The engine roared to life. “It could mean nothing,” he said.

I frowned. “You don’t really believe that.”

He glanced over at me and shook his head. “No. I don’t.”

Chapter Fifteen

Iwoke to the feelof fingers sliding over my skin. Pressure alighted on my neck, followed by a soft tickle and a flush of warmth, like someone had just kissed me there.

Mmm... that feels nice.

I cracked my eyes open, momentarily disoriented. This wasn’t my apartment. A wide bank of blackout curtains covered the windows in front of me. I lay on my side, on a mattress soft as a cloud. I glanced down. The sheets had pooled around my waist. I wore a large white T-shirt, and from the feel of it, I still had underwear on.

Last night came rushing back. The party. The picture we’d seen as we left. The last thing I remembered was Jakob glancing over at me in the Mustang and telling me to put my seat back and rest. I must have fallen asleep while he drove. And because I had no recollection of climbing out of the car, he must have carried me in and put me to bed.

A hand slipped under my shirt. Jakob wrapped his arm around my middle, bicep flexing as he drew me backward through the sheets. I settled into the crook of his large, warm body. His erection pressed against my lower back, sending an answering rush of awareness through me.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Almost noon,” he said.

He dropped a kiss on my neck. And another. I hummed in appreciation as his lips scorched down my skin toward my collarbone. The shirt he’d dressed me in was in the way. He lifted his arm from my waist and snagged the hem of it, and I sat up just enough for him to tug it off. He tossed it aside and then gripped my shoulder, rolling me toward him, onto my back.

The blackout curtains blocked most of the light, but enough illumination crept around the edges that I could see him. Instead of staring up at a bloodthirsty Norseman, I gazed into the face of a man who was barely awake. He looked... kind of adorable actually. His hair was disheveled. Sleep had softened the harsh lines of his features. His eyes were half-lidded as he stared down at me. He looked younger than he was, unguarded and almost boyish.

I lifted a hand and brushed his hair back from his forehead. He closed his eyes and leaned into my touch. I tried to remind myself that he could be a royal bastard sometimes, but then he turned and dropped a kiss on the inside of my wrist, and it was too much, too close to genuine affection. My stomach gave an unwelcome little flutter. I had to do something to break this spell. His eyes were still closed, evidence of how tired he must be, and I latched onto that.

“I will be so insulted if you fall asleep right now,” I told him.

In answer, he crashed down, half on top of me, and started snoring into my ear.

I shoved at his shoulder. Jesus, he was heavy. “You’re not funny,” I said.

He rose up on his elbows. “Then why are you smiling?”

Shit, I was, wasn’t I? “Shut up,” I said, reaching for him.

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