JAMES: A Night Of The Kings Novel Read online

  Gently, he places them on his chest.

  A few long breaths escape my lips, the thought that he’s right here, in front of me, watching me, making my heart crawl up my throat.

  Slowly, I run my hands across his broad shoulders and then down to his hard pecs, and up his corded neck.

  My fingers roll over his face, learning every line and hardness and softness as I envision him in my mind... drinking me in.

  Tenderly, I sweep my fingers over his lashes, and he closes his eyes. A soft smile tugs at my lips. My fingers thread through his soft, thick hair and then drift along his jawline before they trace the cradle of his lips.

  His smile stretches against my fingertips.

  Affectionately, I cup the side of his face.

  “James... Sexton,” I murmur, in a trance.

  He tenses. Surprised?

  “You know who I am?”

  “I know, now... Someone has warned me about you,” I say, running my thumb across his lips.

  “Really?”

  His lips curve into a grin beneath my fingertips.

  “Mmm-hmm. I was told you’re a dangerous man.”

  “Do you believe that?” he rasps.

  I shake my head slowly.

  “You may be... but not to me.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I don’t know much about anything...” I murmur, erasing the sliver of space between us.

  A soft gasp leaves my lips as I press my body against him, my senses zapped with pleasure.

  The soft fabric of my tunic holds no barrier between us.

  I feel everything… from the bumps and ropes of his muscles to the straining ridge of his hard-on.

  I press my bra encased breasts against his torso, and he drapes his arms around me, pouring heat over my body.

  He’s like a summer storm. Hot and steamy, and at times dark.

  Breathing slowly, I indulge myself.

  I knead the back of his neck with my fingers as I pull him to me, lift myself on my toes and breathe against his lips...

  “I want you to teach me, James…” I whisper.

  He tenses, his erection twitching against my belly, a long breath escaping his lips as he creeps his hand inside my top, and splays his fingers on my back, so close to my bra.

  I wish he’d flick it open and free my aching mounds, so much I crave his touch.

  And then he stops.

  “I’m not the man to do that...” he says, his voice thick and husky.

  “How do you know if you don’t try?”

  “I know more than you do.”

  I stroke his lips again, and smile.

  “Then you must know... I’m perfect for you,” I say softly and angle my head, tipping my face up as I sense his lips coming close to mine.

  I cuff the back of his neck, and breathe into him, my nostrils flaring with pleasure as I inhale his scent.

  “I want you, James,” I murmur against his lips, and he gets warmer and tenser.

  Our lips press together as I kiss him tenderly, a soft touch, more like the tasting of an exquisite wine.

  I take a breath and kiss him again, and he parts his lips this time and kisses me back.

  “Mmm...” I moan softly as our tongues connect in a sensual dance, a waterfall of sensations tumbling through me. A soft pulse sets between my legs.

  “Oh, my God,” I whisper.

  I hold onto him as he deepens the kiss, his tongue thrusting into my mouth, and my core starts to throb as if he enters me.

  Warm arousal trickles in my panties. I clench my thighs, feeding on that unimaginable pleasure… the pulsing and swelling, and the dampness, my body longing to experience what he has to give me.

  The sensation scales up to a pleasurable high, my reaction to him feeding his body, swelling his bulge.

  I press myself firmly against his groin, shuddering with bliss as I feel him hard and long and thick between his legs. Moans roll off my lips as I sense him ready and eager to pound me.

  Heaving, I whimper and tremble, my hands going down on him, and he quickly breaks the kiss.

  He tears away and makes a step back, and I stagger as if I’m swept by a gust of wind.

  My hands claw at the air, looking for him.

  “James?”

  I hear a swoosh and then his firm touch as he grabs my hand and leads me to a different room. Tiles pave the floor beneath my feet.

  We’re in the bathroom.

  He connects my hand with the sink and turns the faucet on.

  “Don’t move,” he barks, and lets go of me.

  My ears perk up, registering every noise. The opening and closing of a cabinet door, a glass bottle clinking against the porcelain of the sink.

  He rolls my sleeve up and cleans my skin, the cold sensation morphing into a painful sting.

  “Ouch... It hurts.”

  “You could’ve stayed home,” he says brashly, and I go silent.

  He slips his hands inside my top, rides it up and peels it off me. Hard as steel my nipples push against the soft, lace-trimmed bra. I freeze and wait, unsure what his silence means.

  Self-conscious, I cross my arms and cover my chest.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing,” he says, calm.

  “Why do I still have to wear the blindfold?”

  “I’m more comfortable that way,” he says, surprisingly.

  “Are you eyeing me?”

  “I don’t need to. You made damn sure your top didn’t cover much.”

  I hear the rustle of his clothing as he pulls away from me, heading to the door.

  “Don’t take it off,” he says, his voice coming from the bedroom.

  Moments later, his footsteps come back to me.

  “Here,” he says, plopping a stack of clothing in my arms. “You got a T-shirt and shorts that are not even close to your size but good enough to sleep in them. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  I pivot towards him as his voice seems to trail away from me and I grab his arm.

  “Hey... Where are you going?” I ask.

  “To sleep.”

  “Where?”

  “There are other rooms.”

  “You can sleep here.”

  “No I can’t, and you know it,” he throws at me, annoyed.

  “I’m not going to touch you.”

  “It’s not you I’m afraid of.”

  “Why does it have to be your bed? I can sleep somewhere else.”

  “Nobody enters my bedroom,” he says, resolute.

  “Okay, then,” I say, visibly disappointed.

  “I’m going to lock the door,” he says.

  “Why?”

  “To make sure you’re not roaming.”

  “I’m not... roaming,” I mutter, amused. “What if I need something?”

  “You’ve got my cell number on your phone. You call or text. I’m one door over.”

  Unexpectedly, he places a kiss on my cheek, barely touching the corner of my mouth and walks away, my blindfold still on.

  JAMES

  * * *

  I walk out of my bedroom, lock the door, take a long breath, and adjust my aching erection. Half decent, I walk into the living room and head straight to the bar. I pour myself a double shot of whiskey and take a gulp.

  Ed swivels his head to me.

  “Is she that good or that bad?” he asks, grinning.

  “Both, but she’s mostly damn good. I might need to go back to Red’s,” I say fishing a cigarette from a pack sitting on the table.

  They start laughing.

  I grab my drink and join them on the terrace.

  “The woman is a fucking tease,” I mumble as I crash into a chair. Their eyes roam over me. A smirk pushes to my lips. “She’s so fucking stubborn,” I say.

  “She’s got the itch,” Lex says, smiling.

  “This is more than the fucking itch. It’s in her fucking blood. Right now she has no idea, but wait a couple of years, and she’ll eat men
like candy. There’s gonna be a long line of suckers with their hearts broken by this girl. For now, I don’t want to give her what she wants. If I do, she’s gonna chase me around like a fucking mad dog.”

  Their laughter shatters the silence.

  “I’d have no problem to take care of her,” Ed says, smiling cockily.

  “Me neither,” Lex chimes in.

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about. She lied to her family and came all this way in the middle of the night dressed like a runaway, riding a fucking bicycle. Can you imagine how determined she’d be if she gets a taste of what she’s after?”

  “I’m sure, you took care of that,” Ed says, lifting his glass to his lips.

  “Took care of what?”

  “Didn’t you just give her a taste of it? You’ve spent almost thirty minutes alone with her.”

  “Are you keeping track, now?” I ask jokingly.

  “What did you do, then?” Lex asks.

  “Nothing...” I say.

  There’s silence for a moment. The stretch of water ripples softly not far from us, the moon gazing down to us.

  “Kissing,” I add quietly, my lips curving into a sly smile.

  “Oh!!”

  Their collective howl drifts through the air.

  “Shut up, assholes. She can hear us,” I say, laughing.

  “Fucking James Sexton... kissing a girl. The world turns on its head,” Ed mutters.

  “How come she didn’t ask for more?” Lex asks, his eyes glinting with a smile.

  “If it were up to her, she would’ve liked me to fuck her, but I know better than that.”

  “Can we?” Lex asks, pulling my leg, and for a moment, silence sits with us at the table again.

  They wait for my response, their smiles clinging to their lips.

  I take a long drag, blow the smoke up in the air, and study their eyes.

  “Nobody’s touching her before I do or I’ll break your necks,” I say, and we burst into laughter.

  “Cheers to that! James Sexton is back,” Lex says, raising his glass.

  8

  RAIN

  * * *

  I blink a few times, and look around the room, the awareness setting in fast. The place is dim, the curtains filtering a sliver of bright light.

  I glance at the phone and check the time.

  Shit. It’s almost noon.

  Thoughts swirl in my head, feeding my growing panic as I scramble to remember what day was today.

  Fuck. It’s Saturday.

  I check the missed calls. Daria called a few times, and then... mom?!

  There are several text messages from Eve as well.

  * * *

  Where are you?

  Are you okay?

  Your sister called.

  Your mom comes home earlier.

  Daria wants you to pick her up.

  Her flight arrives at noon.

  * * *

  Shit.

  Too late for that to happen.

  I call Eve.

  “You okay?” she says, short of breath.

  “Yes. You?”

  “Mm-hmm. They dropped me off at home last night.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “You do? Where are you?”

  “In James Sexton’s bed,” I say, a smile flooding my voice.

  “Oh, my God! Are you kidding me? The king’s bed? How was it? You have to tell me everything,” she says, and for a moment I forget where I am and how late it is, and also the fact that I have to get back, give my mom an explanation, and also face Daria when I get home.

  “There’s nothing to tell. Nothing happened,” I say, somewhat disappointed.

  “What?! Are you serious? You said you spent the night in his bed...” she says, disheartened as well, more so than I am.

  “I slept alone. He wasn’t even in the room with me. Anyway, it’s a long story,” I murmur, a bit annoyed.

  “Oh. Okay... So, when are you coming back?”

  “As soon as I can. What did you tell Daria?”

  “You went to the market to buy fresh blueberries.”

  “Market?! Blueberries?”

  “What else, Rain? I had to make up a story.”

  “Okay. And why didn’t you come with me?”

  “I stayed home to make the pancakes...”

  “Did she believe you?”

  “Did she have a choice? I hope you get home soon. I don’t want her on my back. She acted like a real bitch, questioning me, and harassing me.”

  “She did the same to me. She’s bitter because James doesn’t pay attention to her.”

  “What happened with Nathan?”

  “Nothing. He’s only a clueless schmuck. James has money, and he’s also good in the sack.”

  “As if you know...” she says, laughing at my expense.

  “No, but she does. That’s why her ass is on fire.”

  A voice echos in the background.

  “I gotta go,” she says under her breath. “My mom’s looking for me.”

  “All right. We’ll talk later.”

  I scroll my finger over the screen. I text James.

  Me: I need to get back.

  A few moments pass by. No answer.

  Me: James?

  Minutes later, there’s a soft knock on the door.

  “Miss?”

  I jump out the bed. To my surprise, the door is not locked. The older woman–– most likely the housekeeper, greets me with a kind smile. She reminds me of my grandma.

  “The food is ready. A car will be here in thirty minutes,” she says as if I’m family, and it’s perfectly normal to find me in his bed.

  “Okay. Thank you so much.”

  I’d like to ask her about him, but something tells me that it’s useless and I’m wasting my time.

  I’m pretty sure they’re all gone.

  I change into my clothes, swipe my finger over the screen, and start typing again.

  Me: Am I gonna see you again?

  The question remains unanswered all the time I sit at the table set for me on the patio and eat my brunch. Spinach quiche and tomato salad.

  It’s almost one o’clock when I climb into the town car waiting for me. Smoothly, the driver steers the limo away, rolling it toward the gate.

  The place looks different in the daylight. Soothing. Peaceful. There are lots of trees, their leaves a medley of colors this time of year. Bushes of wild roses pop everywhere. Pink, red and white.

  There’s not a trace of cars or bikes.

  By the time I reach the market, my hope he’ll get back to me vanishes completely.

  I should’ve known.

  The driver waits for me as I pick up some fresh fruit, and then takes me home. My mom’s Mercedes is parked in the front.

  The driver holds the door open for me, and I slip by him as quickly as I can, thanking him in a rush.

  As he unloads my bicycle, I spin my mind, trying to come up with a valid explanation for my absence.

  “Look who’s here,” my sister says as the main door swings open, and she ambles outside.

  Her eyes follow the car as it pulls away.

  My mom follows her shortly, her face brightened up by a charming grin.

  “So where were you?” Daria asks, smiling slyly.

  “Market.”

  “I called you.”

  “My phone was turned off.”

  “Hi, sweetie.”

  My mom, a beautiful woman––tall and slender, barely in her mid-forties, strolls to me. She wears an elegant soft knit set in tones of cream and navy, the cut and fabric flattering her figure.

  She gives me a quick hug, ignoring Daria’s pissy mood.

  “Why did you have to call a town car?” Daria asks, her chin pointing to the bicycle.

  “I rushed home when I found out mom is coming,” I say, flashing an innocent smile. She looks at me, suspicious. “It was the only one available,” I add.

  “Leave her alone,” my mom says,
pulling me into the house.

  We have lunch together, and I stick with mom as much as I can, trying to avoid Daria, and her scrutiny.

  Hours later, my mom goes into her room to take a nap, and silence sets into the house.

  I quietly sneak into my bedroom.

  I barely change my clothes, when the door pops open.

  “Where were you last night?” Daria shoots at me, a frown creasing her brow.

  Pacing myself, I slide on the bed, sink into a pillow and pull my laptop open.

  My pulse throbs in my neck.

  She folds her arms over her chest and slices me with a glare. We lock eyes briefly before I shift my focus back to my computer.

  There’s no way she knows where I was unless whoever she had spent time with at Red’s saw me in James’ house last night, and made the connection between the two of us, and then cared to tell her, which I highly doubt. Men are not like that.

  “I told you already,” I say, calm.

  “You lied to me, Rain.”

  I glance up.

  “If you don’t like my answers, why do you keep asking me the same questions over and over again?”

  She scoffs.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll find out. One way or another. And when I know for sure, I’ll tell mom.”

  “What makes you think she holds me to a different standard than you?”

  A patronizing look slides over her face.

  “Oh, but it’s different with you, sweetheart. For whatever reason, she doesn’t want you to get your heart broken,” she says, her voice filled with contempt.

  “So that’s what this is? You, suddenly feeling responsible for my well being? Please… Just go away,” I say, waving her off.

  I move my eyes back to my screen. She makes a few steps toward the bed.

  I shut my laptop closed, and flick my eyes to her.

  “You know, Daria... I’m getting a little tired of you acting as if you’re some sort of guardian. You’re not my mom. She’s not even doing that. So, just go. Leave me alone,” I say motioning her to the door. “I can’t wait to see you gone for good.”

  She clutches her hips, a smirk sprouting on her lips.

  “Oh, really... You think that being home with only mom and dad for an entire year is going to be so much better.”

  “I’ll be in Italy doing research.”

  “Oh, that’s what it’s called now? Research? Give me a fucking break. That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard from a bum.”