Page 88 of Reign of a Billionaire
I wiped my sweaty hair off my forehead and heaved a sigh. This was the most I’d remembered since her death. We were talking about running away.Just like Kingston said.
Peering through the fogged-up window, I noticed the remnants of the storm were finally clearing. I watched the clouds slowly drift away—for minutes, maybe hours. I couldn’t help but feel envy; they came and went, enjoying their journey, while I remained stuck here. Confused and troubled.
Sliding off the windowsill, I quietly made my way out of the room. The hallway was empty, the home eerily quiet as I made my way down the stairs.
I clutched the handrail for balance, almost expecting for Kingston to jump out from the shadows like a ghost and push me to my death. Or back into my room. The jury was still out on his intentions.
Once at the bottom of the stairs, I swung the front door wide open. The birds chirped, calling me to freedom. I followed the call, and as soon as I crossed the threshold, my eyelids fluttered shut in bliss.
Freedom.
It might be fleeting, but it felt so good. I tipped my head back and relished in the sensation of the sun on my skin, the salty airon my tongue. I could hear the waves crashing in the distance, and a jolt of happiness shot through me.
I started walking, then running, faster and harder, my muscles screaming from the effort. Sweat rolled down my back, the jeans I wore too hot for this. But I ignored it all.
It felt like hours of running, although it couldn’t have been more than five or ten minutes when I stopped abruptly.
White sand greeted me and I stepped onto it, my shoes squeaking. The sun cast a beautiful shade of bubblegum pink in the sky, its reflection bouncing off the smooth surface of the water. It was a picture-perfect sight.
The fingertips on my left hand zinged in that old, familiar way, eager to grip a pencil and sketch, immortalizing this view. I brought my right hand to my left wrist, wrapping my fingers around it as I twisted it in a circular motion, a habit I’d picked up somewhere over the years.
I kicked off my shoes and unbuttoned my jeans, pushing them down my legs. Left in my panties and T-shirt, I walked down to the water. I waded up to my thighs, reveling in the salty water lapping at my legs.
The cool water felt refreshing and relaxing, my tension slowly seeping away. A prickling sensation traveled down my spine, and I looked behind me. Dark eyes were trained on me, making my breath catch.
Kingston.
His presence hovered over the beach like a dark cloud as he studied me. Slowly, I waded out of the water, holding his gaze until my feet touched the sand again.
“You’re ruining my sunny day.”
No answer, just that heated gaze touching my skin.
My blood thrummed in my ears, our last encounter still fresh in our minds. Something in his gaze held me captive. I could still feel his hands on my body, his hard body pressed against mine.A bead of sweat rolled down my spine despite the cool water and light breeze caressing my exposed skin.
I realized it wasn’t my best move to be caught with my pants down—literally—as one of the most lethal men in the underworld aimed his attention on me.
“How about some privacy?” I asked, reaching for my discarded jeans.
“It’s too late for that. After all, I tasted your pussy. Privacy is a moot point now.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Nonetheless, I’d like some now.” I held my breath, waiting for him to move. Or to at least acknowledge me. He didn’t do either. “Fine, stare away.” I rolled my eyes. “I shouldn’t be surprised you’re not averting your eyes like a gentleman.”
I held his eyes as I discarded my wet panties and put on my dry jeans. To his credit, his gaze didn’t dip lower. He folded his muscular arms over his chest, his dark tattoos on full display, and his eyes locked with mine.
Ever since that game of Russian roulette, I’d been captivated by this man, and it turned out he might be just as nuts as I was.
“I’m not.”
“You’re not what?” I said, tilting my head to the side.
He studied me for another second before speaking, his voice deep. “I’m not a gentleman.”
“You could have fooled me,” I remarked wryly.
He tilted his chin toward the sea. “Isn’t snow more your thing?”
