Page 10 of Ruined By King

"The King you know needs you to shut the fuck up." I drain my whiskey and slam the glass down. "I'm going to my office. Don't follow me."

I don't wait for a response. I push off the stool and head for the back hallway, leaving the noise and the music and Rogue's too-knowing eyes behind.

My office is at the end of the hall — a room that used to belong to the president before me and still smells faintly of cigars, no matter how many times I've cleaned it. I shut the door behind me and lean against it, closing my eyes.

Three days.

I've replayed that kiss a thousand times. The way she tasted. The sounds she made. The way her body melted into mine like she'd been waiting her whole life for me to touch her. I told her to go back to her father, and it was the hardest thing I've ever done.

I should've fucked her against that tree. Should've buried myself inside her and made her scream loud enough for the whole rally to hear. Let them all know who she belonged to.

But I didn't. Because I'm supposed to be smart. Because starting a war over a woman — even a woman like her — would be the stupidest thing I've ever done.

And yet here I am, three days later, still thinking about her. Still wanting her. Still hard every time her face flashes through my mind.

I cross to my desk and pour myself another whiskey. The burn helps. Clears my head, just a little.

This has to stop. Whatever this is — obsession, infatuation, temporary insanity — I need to get over it. She's Rocky's daughter. Road Kings. Off-limits in every way that matters.

I take a drink and stare at the wall, willing myself to think about anything else.

Club business. Shipments. The beef with the Diablos down south. Anything.

But all I see is her. Auburn hair catching firelight. Lips swollen from my kiss. The way she said good when I told her I couldn't stay away.

Like she wanted me to come back.

Like she'd be waiting when I did.

A knock at the door snaps me out of it.

"I told you not to follow me," I call out.

The door opens anyway.

And everything stops.

She's standing in my doorway. Demi. Rocky's daughter. Here, in my clubhouse, in my territory, like she walked straight out of my fantasies and into my reality.

She's wearing jeans that hug every curve and a leather jacket over a low-cut top that makes my mouth go dry. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, and there's a look in her eyes that tells me she knows exactly how dangerous this is.

She came anyway.

"How the hell did you get in here?" My voice comes out rougher than I intend.

"Told the prospect at the door I was here to see the president." She steps inside, closing the door behind her. The click of the lock is loud in the silence. "He didn't ask questions."

"He should have."

"Probably." She leans against the door, watching me. "Lucky for me, he didn't recognize a Road King's daughter."

I don't move. I don't trust myself to move. If I take a step toward her right now, I'm not going to stop.

"Why are you here, Demi?"

"You know why."

Three words. Three fucking words, and my self-control cracks right down the middle.