Page 13 of Risking the Crown (The Crown 2)
I had to take long steady breaths.
“So do you consider yourself an enabler, Kenley?”
“A what?”
“It was something Dr. Garcia and I discussed. Are you one of the people in my life who lets me drink?”
I swallowed. “No. Never.” I shook my head.
“So if you won’t let me drink, then why won’t you let me get rid of the alcohol? Am I not strong enough to handle it?”
“Of course you are. You’re incredibly strong.” I didn’t know how to turn this around. How to take the insult away. Erase the offense.
His biceps bulged against the rolled cuffs of his sleeves. I could see the ink on his forearm. I had always wanted to study his tattoo upclose.
“Why is your hair still up?” he asked.
“What?”
“Your hair. What does it look like down?”
I protectively reached for my bun to hold my hair in place. “I can’t wear it down, sir.”
“And what’s all this sir shit? You never called me sir. If I recall, you saved your saucier language for me.”
I bit my lip. “Only because I needed you to listen.”
Sir seemed to keep a wall between us. Why was he trying to tear that down? I had spent all day building it. There had always been barriers between us and in a matter of minutes he had smashed through half of them.
7
Dominic
Fuck. My T-shirt skimmed the creamy skin just below her ass. I shifted against the doorway. My cock throbbed. What in the hell? I was staring at Kenley like she had walked off the cover of a lingerie magazine.
My eyes trailed down her thighs.
“The hair,” I repeated. “Take it down.”
“Really, it’s not appropriate,” she argued.
“How do you expect to have game night with your hair pulled back like that? Can you even think?” I teased.
I saw the flustered look in her eye.
“Of course I can think.” She worked the knot free until her hair fell loosely around her shoulders. With her hands up, the shirt rose even higher.
I don’t know how in the hell I kept my composure. She was fucking beautiful. The curls spilled around her in golden waves.
“There. Are you happy?” she fired.
I swallowed. “Yes.”
What she didn’t know was she looked like a damn goddess in my closet. And I had been locked away from women for fifty days. Dr. Garcia didn’t count.
There was a beast inside me ready to emerge. His was clawing at my chest. Begging to quench his thirst. But it wasn’t alcohol he wanted.
“The cufflink drawer,” I stated.
