“I did it again.”

“Did what again?” My dad’s brow is furrowed, and he’s clearly confused again, since I’m speaking out loud but explaining nothing.

I prop my fists on the counter and shake my head, annoyed not just with Kingston’s mom but with myself now. “I ran away from the goddamn problem instead of facing it.”

“You mean by coming home?”

I slap the counter, barely missing my beer. “Yes. I should have stuck it out and stood my damn ground.”

“Well, in your defense, you’ve had a pretty rough day, let alone week. It’s kind of understandable that you might need some time to gather yourself.”

“The awkward level is pretty freaking high,” I agree. “But I managed to get through dealing with Corey and his loon of a fiancée and a bunch of media BS, so I sure as hell should’ve been able to deal with an ex-girlfriend and some misinformed parents, regardless of the level of awkward. I mean, I can’t expect Kingston to fight for us if I’m not going to, can I? Well, I guess I could, but where’s the balance in that?” I grab my purse and phone and kiss my dad on the cheek. “Thanks so much for the talk, Dad.”

“Uh, you’re welcome?”

Just as I throw the door open, a set of headlights blinds me.

My dad brushes by me, squeezing my shoulder on the way out. “That’s my cue to leave.”

He claps Kingston on the shoulder and mutters something I can’t hear as they pass each other in the driveway.

“Hey.” He notes my purse hooked over my shoulder and my phone in my hand. “Are you going somewhere?”

“I was going to your place.” I take a step back and allow him inside.

“My place?” He hooks his thumbs into his pockets, as if he’s unsure what to do now that he’s here.

I lift a shoulder in a half shrug and motion to my living room. “I can’t fight for what I want from here.”

He moves in closer until he breaches my personal-space bubble. I can smell his cologne, the faint hint of shoe polish and leather, feel the hum of energy that’s always present between us. “You don’t have to fight for anything. I’m yours unless you tell me otherwise.”

“And I’m yours.” I trace the collar of his polo. “I figured the best way to prove that would be to stand by your side no matter what. So I decided not to wait and just go to you instead, but now here you are.”

“Here I am.” He smiles softly and skims my cheek with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry about my mother’s meddling. She misinterpreted our conversation last week and had it in her head that you and I were broken up, hence the surprise.”

“Well, it certainly was that.”

“This wasn’t how I wanted tonight to go, at all.”

“Me either. Gotta say, makes meeting the parents a little more awkward.”

“I promise I’ve taken care of that. Jessica’s already on a plane home, and there won’t be any more misunderstandings where she’s concerned. She’s very clear on the fact that we’re not right for each other.” He runs his palms down my arms and takes my hands in his. “The only person who thought it was a good idea to bring Jessica was my mother, because half the time her head is up her butt. And my brother, Gerald, loves that there was some family drama that finally wasn’t focused on him for a change.” He brings my knuckles to his lips and kisses them. “I hated seeing you upset tonight and not being able to fix it.”

“You had to deal with your family, and in that moment I wasn’t prepared to face them, but I am now.”

King grins down at me. “Feeling feisty tonight?”

I return the smile. “I think I might be starting to get the hang of this whole confronting the problem thing.”

“Well, I like it. And I think my family deserves to stew for a bit. Besides, Gerald is drunk off his ass, and I don’t feel like being the one who has to manage him tonight.” He dips down and brushes his lips over mine. “I can think of a few good ways to capitalize on that feistiness, though.”

I clasp my hands behind his neck. “Would that include nudity and orgasms?”

“See? We’re totally in sync.” His mouth crashes down on mine, tongue sweeping my mouth in a wet, furious tangle. He picks me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He carries me across the room, shouldering open my door. “Tomorrow we deal with my family. Tonight I get my fill of you.”

Awareness trickles in at the feel of a finger trailing along the edge of my jaw. I stretch, and my muscles ache deliciously. Cool air hits my chest when the covers slide down. A light tickle along my collarbone follows, and I moan at the wet warmth and suction when soft lips close around my nipple. The sensation is amplified by the sweet sting of teeth.

My lids flutter open, the haze of sleep drifting away as King’s profile comes into view, long lashes fluttering as his palm curves around my other breast and squeezes gently.

I run my fingers through his silky hair, pushing it back off his forehead. It’s damp.

He tips his head in my direction, freshly shaven cheek rubbing over my wet nipple. “Morning.” He glances at the clock on the nightstand. “Well, afternoon.”

The clock reads half past twelve. “Oh wow.” My voice is hoarse, so I clear my throat, but it’s still scratchy and soft. “How long have you been awake?”

“Awhile.” He circles my nipple with the tip of his tongue. “I was trying to be patient, but I got hungry.”

“We can make breakfast, or maybe brunch would be better.”

“I didn’t mean for food.” His palm smooths down my stomach, fingertips circling sensitive skin, causing me to jerk and moan.

Half an hour later I’m wearing his discarded shirt from last night—mostly because I don’t want him to put it on—and he’s wearing his khakis and a very satisfied smile.

I hop up on the counter, sucking in a breath when the cold marble meets my bare butt. Kingston stops chopping pineapple and uses his pinkie to lift the bottom of my shirt. “Where are your panties?”

I shrug. “I never know when you’re going to get hungry again.”

He sets the knife on the counter and pushes the cutting board aside. Moving into my personal space, he taps on my knees, a silent request to open for him. I’ve already come twice since I woke up. And I lost track last night once we got to my bedroom. Apparently King loves my feisty.

“I’m always hungry for you.” His palms ease up the inside of my thighs, and he parts me with his thumbs on a low groan.

“Not sure this is a particularly hygienic location for kitty snacks.”

He smirks. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean up if I make a mess of you.”

He leans in for a kiss, and we both startle at the loud knock on my door. “Shoot, that’s your dad.” He shifts to the left and makes a quick adjustment in his pants.

I don’t consider the fact that I should probably be wearing more clothes, or that Kingston should be wearing a shirt, when I call out, “The door’s open!”

Kingston gives me a What the heck? look, but it’s too late, because my dad’s let himself in.

“You should probably wash your hands, Boy Scout.” I cough as I jump off the counter. At least the shirt is long and hits midthigh. “Hey, Dad.” My voice is nice and pitchy.

“Morning, Jake.” King’s face is the color of a beet. “I mean, good afternoon.”

My father’s eyes bounce from a shirtless King to me, in King’s shirt. Yeah. It might’ve been a good idea to remedy the clothing situation before telling him to come on in. “Looks like you kids made up just fine, huh?”

“Yuppers.” Well, this is awkward.

“Well, uh, I hope you’re being safe.”

Annnnd now it’s more awkward.

If my dad means Kingston painting my chest every time he pulls out, then we are definitely being safe.

“Of course, sir.” Kingston dries his hands on a towel. “We were just about to prepare some brunch, if you’d like to join us.”

“Oh, uh, before you do that, you might want to call your . . . momster? Hanna?” He holds up Kingston’s phone and keys.

Kingston feels his back pockets. “Did I drop those in the driveway?”

“No, you left them in your SUV. I was passing by about an hour ago and noticed the keys in the ignition and the phone on the seat. The door was unlocked.”

I don’t bother asking why he didn’t knock an hour ago because I already know what we were up to, and I’m pretty sure, based on how red his face is, so does he.

“Oh, wow . . . uh, thanks. I was pretty distracted last night.”

“I accidentally answered a call a few minutes ago. I was trying to turn off the ringer but hit the wrong button.” His face continues to heat up.

“No big deal. I’m guessing you told Hanna I’d call her back?”

“Well, uh, she said there wasn’t a rush, but family dinner is at six, and everyone is excited to meet Queenie, so she’s hoping you two don’t have plans. And that cocktail hour is at five.” My dad sets the phone and keys on the counter, pushing them toward Kingston. “I told her you could probably make it, but I’d get you to confirm.”

“Oh, uh . . .” Kingston’s eyes flare, and he glances at me. “Okay?”