“I’m a bastard he legitimized,” S?ren said. “He’d prefer the real thing.”
“I won’t give him another child.”
“He’ll want to know why you’re leaving him. Please, keep Elizabeth’s name out of it. If you have to name someone, name me.”
“No,” Kingsley said, in a panic. “Don’t do that.”
“Kingsley, this is not—”
“It is my concern,” Kingsley said, already knowing what S?ren would say before he said it. “You told me your father broke your arm when you were eleven. I don’t want him to hurt you.”
“I won’t tell him,” Annabelle pledged. “I won’t put you in danger. I owe you…everything.”
“Keep my sister safe. That’s all I ask.”
She rose up on her toes and kissed S?ren on the cheek.
“You’re always welcome to visit your sister,” she said. “Always. You, too,” she said to Kingsley. “I think Claire’s in love with you.”
“Then he’s never seeing her again,” S?ren said. “I’m her older brother. She’s never allowed to fall in love. Especially with him.”
“Ignore him. She can call me Uncle Kingsley,” he said.
Annabelle laughed—a scared, brittle sound. She put her hand on S?ren’s chest over his heart. “Thank you,” she whispered before getting into the car and driving away.
“How much trouble am I in for getting out of the car without permission?” Kingsley asked.
“None,” S?ren said, and Kingsley was wildly disappointed. “Let’s go. We can make it back to school by tonight.”
Kingsley followed him back to the car. The driver opened the door for them. When they were alone again, Kingsley said, “Or…”
“Or what?” S?ren demanded.
“Or we could find a hotel and fuck in a real bed for once.”
“We’re not on a date. And here I was wondering where the real Kingsley had gone.”
“What do you mean?” he asked as the driver opened the car door for them. He slipped inside and S?ren followed. They were on the road again before S?ren answered.
“When you were with Claire—I wasn’t sure you were the same Kingsley I know and barely tolerate.”
“Why? Because I like kids?”
“You were good with her.”
“Kids are fun,” he said. What else was there to say? “I never considered you would like children.”
“Well…I do. So what?”
“Nothing,” S?ren said, laughing to himself. “Nothing at all.”
“I know you see me as some kind of pervert,” Kingsley said. “But believe or not, I am a human being. Yes, I like kids. I might want kids someday. I don’t have much of a family anymore. If I want a family I’ll have to make my own. Sometimes I have thoughts that don’t have anything to do with sex. I’m not just your toy, you know. I have feelings and—”
His impassioned “I have feelings” speech ended abruptly when S?ren grabbed him hard by the back of the hair and brought his mouth down in a brutal kiss. Kingsley almost pulled away so he could finish his tirade before realizing he wanted the kiss so much more than the fight.
Kingsley returned the kiss with equal and greater passion. S?ren yanked Kingsley’s jacket off him and threw it on the f loorboard. Kingsley pulled his own shirt off and rolled on to his back on the bench seat. He’d remember the sensation of leather on his bare back all his life.
“Have you ever had sex in the back of a Rolls Royce?” Kingsley asked, trying not to rip S?ren’s shirt in his rush to unbutton it. He needed S?ren’s skin on his skin right now.
“No,” S?ren said. “But ask me that question again in an hour.”
Before Kingsley could respond to that, S?ren grabbed his wrists, pinned them over Kingsley’s head and kissed him again—deeper, slower, but no less punitive. Kingsley groaned, and S?ren slapped a hand over his mouth.