King's Rule Read online

  I didn’t like the way she said those words. I didn’t like the confrontational look in her eyes. ‘What the hell is the matter?’ I wasn’t quite sure what I was so annoyed about and yet I was annoyed all the same. ‘I thought you’d be pleased about this.’

  She looked away again, silent for a long moment.

  But I wasn’t having any of that.

  ‘Tell me what’s going on, Poppy,’ I growled. ‘Unless you seriously want another spanking tonight?’

  I saw the by now familiar flash of fire in her eyes and realised that was a stupid question. Of course she wanted it. She loved the spankings I gave her.

  ‘Or perhaps if you don’t tell me,’ I amended, keeping the note of warning in my voice, ‘you won’t get a spanking at all.’

  This time the fire in her eyes was anger. ‘Okay, fine. I just...don’t want to end up like Mum. Getting everything from a man simply because I’m sleeping with him.’

  I couldn’t quite keep the astonishment off my face. She really thought that?

  Of course she’d think that. Remember the kind of person Lily is and what Poppy told you about her.

  Lily was an opportunist, always had been, always would be, I knew that. And Poppy had told me how her mother had made her feel...

  My anger drained away. ‘This is different.’ I injected all the certainty I could into the words. ‘You’re not your mother, Poppy.’

  ‘Aren’t I?’ Her gaze was very direct. ‘Do you know what it’s like getting hit on all the time? By men who are supposed to be my employers, touching me, making awful suggestions. Telling me I can keep my job if only I could do them a couple of “favours”.’ There was bitterness in her tone. ‘You want to know why I never keep a job very long? That’s why. Because I’m not going to put up with that shit. Not like Mum did. And I’m not going to take advantage of it like she did either. I want a job that I got on my own, by my own talent, not because the man I’m sleeping with happens to—’

  I lifted my hand, gripped the back of her neck and squeezed gently to calm her, making her break off, her breathing fast.

  ‘I hear you,’ I said into the silence, holding her gaze with mine, letting her know that I understood what she was saying. And I did. I really did. Anger simmered inside me. Anger for her and what she’d had to put up with. ‘And if I could I’d punch every one of those bastards who made you feel uncomfortable.’ I tightened my grip on her, reminding her of my possession and that I had her back. ‘But that’s not what’s happening here. You really think I’d take your drawings to Ajax if I didn’t think they were good enough?’

  She blinked, lashes fluttering.

  ‘Well?’ I demanded, wanting to hear her say it.

  ‘No.’ The word sounded cracked. ‘I guess not.’

  ‘No,’ I repeated, part of me surprised at my own insistence. ‘I wouldn’t waste either his time or my own. I gave those drawings to Ajax because they were good, because I thought he would like them and he did.’ I didn’t know why it was so important to me that she understood. Maybe it was because of what she’d told me about her professors, about how they hadn’t been excited about her drawings, about the note of disappointment I’d heard in her voice, of doubt. And I didn’t want her doubting herself. ‘Even if I hadn’t been sleeping with you and I’d seen those drawings, I would have taken them to Ajax.’

  She stared at me for a long moment, her expression guarded. ‘Even...even if we were still hating each other?’

  ‘Yes.’ I didn’t hesitate or ask myself why it was important to me that she had confidence in her own talent. I only knew that it was. ‘I’d be stupid not to. People will love your designs. They’re incredibly accessible. My job is to manage the company’s money and see that we make more of it and your designs will help us do that.’

  Emotions crossed her face, moved like shadows in her eyes. ‘You wouldn’t...wouldn’t say that simply to get in my pants, would you?’

  I couldn’t help smiling at that. ‘I’m already in your pants.’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t say that. I value honesty, Poppy. And I don’t like liars. I’ll always tell you the truth, understand?’

  Except when it comes to her father, right?

  She let out a long breath. ‘Well, okay then.’

  I ignored the voice in my head, exerting slight pressure on the back of her neck and easing her forward, brushing my mouth over hers in a feather-light kiss. ‘You’re talented,’ I said softly against her lips. ‘And it’s got nothing to do with your looks or how good you are in bed. It’s all in how you think and who you are. And it’s good, Poppy. It’s really, really good.’

  Her breath caught, her eyes wide and staring into mine, and I caught another flash of her vulnerability. As if she’d never heard those words from another person before.

  Then her lashes came down and she put her hand against my chest, giving me a little shove. ‘Oh, well, since a man told me I was good, I must be.’

  She was protecting herself and I got that, but I felt annoyed that she could dismiss my opinion so lightly.

  ‘I can’t help being a man. But that doesn’t make what I said any less true.’

  Her hand slid down my bare chest to the waistband of the trousers I still had on. ‘No, I know. You’re trying to make me feel better; I get it.’

  I slid my fingers up the back of her neck and into her hair, holding on tightly and tugging her head back so she was looking at me again. ‘I didn’t say that to make you feel better. I said it because it’s true.’

  She tried to pull away but I held her tight, keeping her gaze on mine.

  ‘You’re not your mother, Poppy. And you shouldn’t doubt either yourself or your ability.’

  A spark glowed in her eyes, a familiar spark. ‘I don’t doubt it.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’

  ‘Of course I’m sure. I don’t—’

  ‘Then why do you keep getting so defensive and angry? Is my opinion not worth anything to you? Is that what you’re trying to say?’

  She fell silent, staring at me for a long moment, and I could feel the tension in her. She was all prickles and spikes sometimes, but I knew what that was all about now. They were her defences. And, from what she’d just said about pricks hitting on her, she’d needed them.

  ‘You don’t have to fight me,’ I said when she didn’t speak. ‘I’m on your side, okay?’

  Her eyes glittered strangely, like there were tears in them. ‘Why? Why are you on my side?’

  ‘You even have to ask that?’

  ‘Of course I have to ask that. No one’s ever been on my side before. Why should you be any different?’

  She was being honest, painfully so, and it made something twist in my chest. There were people who should have been on her side, like her mother, for example, and yet Lily hadn’t been. Lily hadn’t been on anyone’s side but her own.

  It was wrong and it offended my sense of fairness down to the bone.

  I stared right into her eyes, into her hurt and vulnerable soul. ‘I am different. And I will continue to be different. I’m on your side, Poppy Valentine, no matter what happens, understand me?’ I made the words a vow because that was exactly what they were. And I didn’t second-guess myself or question why I was saying this. Poppy needed someone and I would be that someone.

  Moisture glittered on the ends of her lashes.

  Christ, she was crying.

  I let go of the back of her neck and cupped her jaw in one hand, using my thumb to brush away the tears, trying to ignore the twisting, heavy feeling in my chest. ‘Poppy...’

  ‘I’m not crying,’ she said fiercely, totally ignoring the wetness I was wiping away. ‘I’m not.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  ‘I’m not upset.’

  ‘Little liar.
’ I brushed away another tear, searching her face. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Her throat moved as she gave a convulsive swallow. ‘I haven’t done anything to deserve this from you. Not a single goddamn thing. I’ve been nothing but horrible to you since the day—’

  I pressed my thumb against her soft mouth, silencing her. ‘You don’t need to deserve it.’ My voice was thick and rough, but I didn’t care. Her eyes were full of tears and all I wanted to do was take them away, make her feel better because the pain in her gaze hurt me too. ‘You’re bright and you’re passionate, and you’re brave. Isn’t that reason enough?’

  She shook her head, another tear sliding down her cheek, so I went on. ‘You’ve been protecting yourself for a long time, I know that. I understand. I’ve been doing the same thing myself. But you don’t need to do it any more. You don’t need to protect yourself from me.’

  She was silent but when I moved my thumb, tracing her lower lip, unable to stop touching her, she said, ‘And when this is over? Will you still be on my side then?’

  It was a challenge, because of course she was always challenging me. And I knew what ‘this’ meant.

  A tight kind of ache started up behind my breastbone, but I didn’t look away from her. I told her I’d always give her the truth and I would. ‘Yes. Even when this is over, I’ll be on your side. I never say things I don’t mean.’

  She stared at me and I couldn’t tell what was going on behind those molten metal eyes.

  Then she opened her mouth and bit my thumb.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Poppy

  HE MEANT IT. I could see it in his eyes. He would be on my side.

  But it wasn’t that that made me want to cry even harder. It was the fact that he thought ‘this’ had a finite date.

  When this was over, that was what he’d said.

  It shouldn’t have hurt. It shouldn’t have meant anything at all because, God knows, I hadn’t thought about wanting him or this affair that we were having to go on for ever.

  But the way he’d said it in conjunction with telling me he’d be on my side felt...odd. Like he was giving me something precious with one hand while taking something even more precious away with the other.

  I didn’t know why it stuck in my head, but it did.

  And I didn’t want him to see it, not when he’d already seen so much, so I bit his thumb, trying to divert his train of thought onto something else.

  Something simpler.

  His dark eyes widened, heat flickering in them as I let my teeth rest gently against the skin of his thumb.

  It didn’t matter that what we had wouldn’t last. I didn’t need it to. I didn’t want it to.

  Sure, he made me feel good when he touched me and knowing he thought I had talent, knowing he thought I was bright and passionate and brave, were all good things—wonderful things.

  But... I didn’t need them.

  I didn’t need a man to make me feel good about myself.

  So why were you crying?

  Yeah, that had been ridiculous. Maybe I was getting my period or something.

  No. It’s because you know you’re not any of those things. And it’s easier to take his punishment than his compliments.

  ‘You don’t believe me, do you?’ He wasn’t looking at my mouth around his thumb, but into my eyes.

  Damn man.

  Trying to ignore that snide whispering voice, I swirled my tongue around the tip of his thumb, flicking it like I flicked the head of his cock, yet still he didn’t look away.

  ‘What would it take?’ The question was soft, dark. ‘What would it take for you to believe me?’

  Nothing. Nothing would make me believe him, because I couldn’t afford to believe him.

  He was right about one thing. I’d been protecting myself a long time. So long that I didn’t know how to stop, nor did I want to.

  If I stopped fighting, people took advantage. Selfish people who didn’t care what I wanted, only what they did. My mother, all the various employers who thought they could put a hand on me.

  My father, who put his own pain before the life of his child.

  I did have to protect myself because who else would?

  He would.

  No, I couldn’t trust that. I’d trust him with my body and my pleasure, but nothing else. After all, like he’d said, this would be over soon enough and I’d have to go back to relying on myself anyway.

  The fire in his eyes became darker, more intense, which should have been a warning. He’d always responded to every challenge I threw at him and what was my lack of belief if not a challenge?

  He pulled his thumb from my mouth. ‘What’s your word, Poppy?’

  Everything in me gathered tight. ‘S-Seven.’

  He gave a curt nod then reached down to pick something up from the floor beside the sofa. It was the shirt I’d been wearing at work.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I asked, unable to help myself.

  The look he gave me was full of a kind of quiet ferocity that had my breath catching. ‘You told me you trusted me, but you don’t. Do you?’

  How could I lie to him? ‘With my body, of course I do.’

  ‘But not with anything else.’

  He valued honesty, so that was what I gave him. ‘How can I? This will be over at some point and then I’ll have to go back to looking after myself. I can’t afford to rely on anyone, Xander. Surely you can understand that?’

  ‘I’m not anyone.’

  ‘I know, but the people I expected to look after me never did.’

  ‘So it’s easier to expect nothing? Is that what you’re trying to say?’

  I lifted my chin. ‘I’m not leaving myself open to being kicked while I’m down. Been there, done that.’

  He said nothing for a long moment. Then he held up the black fabric of my shirt. ‘See this? Do you know what it is?’

  Was he kidding? ‘It’s my shirt.’

  ‘No. It’s a blindfold.’

  My mouth went bone-dry. ‘It’s a...what?’

  ‘A blindfold,’ he repeated patiently. ‘You don’t trust me. But I want to prove to you that you can.’

  Something was thudding very loudly in my ears.

  ‘You want me to put that on, presumably?’ I tried to sound like it wasn’t a big deal because, considering the rest of what we’d done, a blindfold wasn’t that kinky.

  ‘Yes. I want you to put that on.’

  I stared at the black fabric, trepidation growing slowly in my gut. Being spanked was one thing—I could handle that, no problem. I liked it—no, I loved it. But having my sight taken away? That felt...different.

  So? Say your word.

  Saying ‘seven’ because I didn’t want to put on a blindfold? That was ridiculous. What could he do to me? I’d taken the pain that he gave me, taken the discipline and I’d revelled in it. A blindfold was nothing. Nothing. It wouldn’t change my opinion. Wouldn’t make me trust him any more, no matter what he thought.

  I shrugged. ‘Fine. Put it on then.’

  He didn’t hesitate, lifting the fabric and laying it across my face, reaching around to the back of my head and deftly pulling the ends tight.

  The material was soft against my skin and little bits of light filtered through the gaps, but he soon adjusted it so there was nothing but blackness in front of me.

  My heartbeat sped up, pounding uncomfortably loud.

  ‘Are you okay?’ His voice was right in front of me, centring me. ‘I’m not going to ask that again, by the way. I’m going to trust you to use your word if you need to. So if you’re not okay you need to tell me now.’

  ‘I’m okay.’ I was pleased that my voice sounded so steady.

  ‘Good. I’m going to move you now.’ His hands fell to my hips and he gripped me tight as I felt him shif
t underneath me.

  Then I was being eased face-down onto the sofa, his hands gentle on my body as he manoeuvred me in place, laying me out so that I was lying full length on the cushions.

  I turned my head so I could breathe, the blackness pressing against my eyes complete and total.

  My palms felt damp and I could barely hear him over the sound of my raging heartbeat.

  This was strange. Why was I feeling so exposed? I’d lain like this plenty of times without this fear and nervousness; he’d put his hand on my butt and spanked me and it had been so good.

  So why was I afraid now? I didn’t understand.

  I still had the blanket over me and I stiffened as I felt him pull it off, leaving me naked.

  I shivered, air moving over my skin, raising goosebumps.

  Nothing happened.

  Everything was quiet except for the noise in my head and I strained to hear him, to figure out where he was, to get some idea of what was going to happen next. But he didn’t make a sound.

  My mouth went even drier, my fingers curling into fists.

  Say your word then, coward.

  No. Fuck that. I wasn’t going to say it, not now. Not when all he’d done was put a blindfold on me. God. Maybe when he brought out the whips and chains and nipple clamps, then I might have something to say about it, but not now.

  The sofa dipped and I nearly gasped at the unexpectedness of it.

  Xander, kneeling over me. I could feel the wool of his suit trousers against the outside of my knees, the fabric scratchy.

  The world shifted, my focus narrowing helplessly on where he was, struggling to get a sense of what he was doing.

  He must be looking down at me because I recognised the pressure I sensed against my spine, the pressure of his black gaze.

  Every millimetre of skin became exquisitely sensitive, as if I’d had the top layer removed, exposing all my nerve-endings. I felt the shift and eddy of the air over me, the intense heat of his knees bracketing mine. I was sure that if I concentrated hard enough, I could even feel the difference between the air of the apartment and his breath...