Just This Once (The Kings)

Fuck, Em.

Two words, ground out on a delicious, tortured moan, had been my undoing. Coffee in hand, I braced myself against the counter in the teachers’ lounge as I stirred the creamer, remembering how those two words had sent electric tingles from my scalp to my toes before Whip hauled me over his shoulder, firefighter style, and stomped toward his bedroom.

That should have been my first clue.

We had hardly come up for air that entire night. He was assertive and attentive. He hadn’t even minded the shocked expression that twisted my face when he had shed his jeans to reveal his piercing.

Yep.

Whip King had a pierced. Fucking. Cock.

I had only ever seen one in porn or random late-night Google searches, but being presented with a penis that looked like his—long and thick and veined—only to find out that he was also sporting a Jacob’s ladder?

My thighs quivered at the memory, and I pressed my legs together, sucking in a long deep breath at how he’d⁠—

“Earth to Emily.”

I jolted at the feeling of a hand pressed between my shoulder blades, splashing coffee over the rim of my mug. “Ow! Shit.” I shook off my hand, sending droplets of coffee flying.

“Are you okay?” Rachel assessed me from head to toe, concern pinching her eyebrows. “I was calling your name, but it looked like you were in a different world.”

Yes. A world in which I was pinned beneath Whip King as he drove into me over and over with that glorious bedazzled cock.

I cleared my throat. “Yeah, sorry.” I let loose a nervous laugh. “Just lost in thought, I guess.”

Rachel flicked her short blonde hair back. “Well, the bell is going to ring in three minutes. We gotta get in there. The Warden can’t be late.”

I pulled down a handful of napkins from the dispenser and wiped away the spill and tried to hide the cringe from my unwanted nickname—as if being a teacher with rules was a bad thing. “Okay. I’ll be right there.”

I had better get my head on straight. I need this job.

The rumor floating around the teachers’ lounge was that Mrs. Kirk wasn’t planning on returning after her maternity leave. That meant there was a very good chance that this job at Outtatowner Junior High could turn into an actual career. For the time being, I was considering my long-term substitute job as her maternity sub as an extended interview of sorts.

I could nail this gig and get that job.

Oh god . . . but then I would have to face him again.

I clutched my coffee mug in both hands, letting the warmth seep into my fingers before taking a steadying breath.

“Rachel,” I called. She turned and smiled as I hurried to catch up. “Wait for me.”

Side by side we walked through the corridors of the junior high school until we reached our doors across the hall from one another.

“Happy Friday.” She clinked her coffee mug against mine. “Another week down. You know, a few of us are going to do happy hour after school. Are you in?”

“Sounds fun. Where are you going?”

Rachel smiled at Mrs. Kuder, the crabby, septuagenarian librarian who pushed her cart between us. I stifled a giggle, recalling Mrs. Kuder’s beloved town nickname: Scooter Kuder.

I shook my head as she shuffled away. You can’t make this shit up, I swear.

“We’re going to the Grudge Holder. It’s a local place. Do you want to come along?” Rachel looked at me expectantly.

The knot in my stomach grew taut. “Yeah, um. I’ll think about it.” I sipped my coffee to hide the slip in my smile. “I might come out tonight.”

I wouldn’t.

Rachel could see right through my bullshit as she tipped her head and raised her eyebrows in a look that said, Yeah, fucking right. “Come on. It’s been almost two months since you took over Kirk’s class. You’re one of us now. You should come out. Given the students you wound up with this year, you have definitely earned it.”

I chuckled as I glanced over my shoulder and through the classroom door. She wasn’t kidding—my classroom of eleven- and twelve-year-olds was most definitely a handful. There was even a rumor going around school that Mrs. Kirk had found out about the cluster of students in her class and had timed her pregnancy perfectly. The students were rowdy and rambunctious and needed a firm but kind hand if we were ever going to get anything done this school year.

They were perfect.

My eyes landed on one desk. “Hey, what do you know about Robbie Lambert and his family?”

Rachel’s gaze followed mine. She was petite, but what she lacked in height, she more than made up for in gusto. Her short, light-blonde bob bounced when she tipped her head. “Not much, why? Is he a troublemaker?”

I shook my head. “No, the opposite. He’s an angel—very sweet, but really quiet. I just get the feeling something is off. He came to school with no socks on last week and the other day forgot his coat.”

She shrugged. “Kids are forgetful. It’s probably nothing.”

My lips pressed together, and I tamped down the unease in my belly. “You’re probably right.”

Rachel took a step toward her room. “Tonight. Please consider it.”

I smiled at her. “I’ll think about it. I promise.”

She pointed one long manicured nail at me. “You better. Don’t you lie to me, Warden.”

I raised my hand in surrender. “I would never. I promise I’ll think about it.”

She lifted her coffee mug in salute to another day of shaping the future. I laughed, raised my mug with hers, and took another sip of my morning coffee.

Once inside, my gaze floated over the twenty-six student desks in carefully arranged clusters around my room.

My classroom.

I drew one resolute breath and exhaled, shoving down every unwelcomed thought of Whip King. “All right, let’s do this.”

My fingers tapped out a nervous rhythm against the outside of my thigh as my eyes swept through the Grudge.

This is a terrible idea.

For nearly two months I had successfully avoided this place, turning down any invite for a night out or drinks after work for fear I might run into him. Six of us had met outside, and I tucked myself into the middle of the clump of teachers, hoping to be invisible. People were already congregating in small clusters throughout the bar. A banner announced a live band, and it seemed others had the same idea we did about unwinding after a stressful workweek.

I shifted toward the east side, looking for a table big enough to accommodate our group.

“There’s one over there,” Rachel called out to us, pointing to a long table tucked against the wall of the west side. “Does that look good?” she asked.

“You chose last time,” Becca, a seventh-grade teacher, chimed in. “Rock-paper-scissors for it?”

I watched in awe as two grown women pumped their fists and chanted, “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

“Ha!” Rachel cheered when her paper beat Becca’s rock. “Sullivan side for the win.”

“Fine, let’s snag it,” Becca grumbled. “I guess it doesn’t really matter anyway.”

Oh, I think it very much matters.

Despite the heat prickling along my hairline, I followed the group and took a seat with my back against the far wall so I could look out onto the bar and dance floor.

Rachel sat next to me, plucking a plastic menu from between the napkin dispenser and ketchup bottle.

“Have you ever been here?” she asked as she scanned the menu. “They’ve got great food and even better music. It’s usually a really good time.”

Becca leaned across the table with a smirk. “There’s also amazing eye candy.” She jerked her head toward the middle of the room. “The men around here are something else. I swear there’s got to be something in that Lake Michigan water.”

“Which is why”—Rachel waggled her eyebrows—“no one can ever agree on which side to pick. Once the tourist season picks up, the eye candy gets even better, if you can believe it.” She shimmied her shoulders. “Nothing says school’s out like a hot little summer fling.”

A thin smile flattened my lips.

“I wouldn’t mind having a fling with someone like that.” Becca jutted her chin toward the far corner of the bar.

I knew those broad shoulders. The nip of his waist. My hands had roamed over every curve of his muscular ass. Heat clawed up my throat and cheeks as I tried to sink lower in my seat, using Becca’s body to hide behind.

Whip stood shoulder to shoulder with another man, leaning over the oak bar and giving me a perfect view of his backside. When Whip’s counterpart turned, I blinked in surprise. Whip had mentioned brothers, but the similarities between these two were striking.

When Whip had stripped out of his jeans and long-sleeved shirt, he had revealed beautiful tattoos that trailed along his arms and torso. This man next to him was extensively covered and held that same dangerous glint in his eye that had drawn me to Whip. Recognition from seeing him at the tattoo shop washed over me. He leaned in and said something to Whip. They both laughed as Whip turned to face the open space of the Grudge.

“Why are you acting weird?” Rachel leaned over to join me in my hiding spot behind the plastic menu.

“I’m not being weird,” I whispered.

I was definitely acting like a fucking lunatic.

She pulled the plastic menu down. “And who do you keep looking at?”

“Shh!” I scolded. “Stop it. Nothing. No one.”

“Is it the tattooed daddy over there?” Her eyes widened. “Or is it the lumber-snack next to him? Does the Warden have the hots for someone?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh my god, stop it. And don’t call me that.” I looked again at Whip and prayed we hadn’t drawn attention to ourselves. Thankfully he seemed oblivious to my ongoing meltdown in the back corner.

“They’re Kings, you know.” Rachel’s voice held an air of awe.

“Everyone knows the Kings,” Becca added. “Maybe you don’t know all of them, but you’ve worked with one or grew up with another.” She shrugged. “Who doesn’t know the Kings?”

Rachel’s pointed stare lingered after Becca’s attention returned to the menu. She sucked in a breath as realization lit up her features. Her manicured finger poked my arm. “You do know him.” She scooted closer, scraping her chair along the floor. “Tell me everything or I swear to you I will stand on this table and make a scene.” The devilish grin and challenge in Rachel’s eyes warned me she wasn’t kidding.

For a teacher with a reputation of being a hard-ass, Rachel had a wild streak a mile wide. When I held her stare but didn’t answer, she moved, planting one foot on the seat of her chair.

I grabbed her forearm and tugged her down, her butt landing with a plop. “Fine, I’ll tell you, but shut up. Not the tattoo daddy, but the one next to him,” I whispered, praying my colleagues were too engrossed in deciding what food to order for the table to pay any attention to me.

I tipped my head toward Whip. “We hooked up just after I got to town. I don’t want him to see me.”

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Whip King? Why the hell not?”

Her head snapped back to me. “Is he terrible in bed? Does he have a micro-peen? Was he all jackhammer and no finesse?”

“No. Shut up.” A giggle tumbled from me. “Honestly, it was really, really amazing.” Even admitting that out loud felt forbidden and made me want to fan my cheeks.

“So what’s the deal, then? Saunter up next to him and go in for round two.” Her arms swept wide in invitation as if it would ever be that easy.

I pulled her arm back to her lap. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

I exhaled a frustrated sigh. “He’s a firefighter.”

Rachel’s eyes went wide. “Oh shit, that’s right.”

I sank lower in my seat. “Yep. And I didn’t know that until after we . . .” My hand rolled in circles between us. “You know.”

“He works for your dad? That is so freaking hot.” Rachel stared at Whip across the bar.

I rolled my eyes despite the pressure building between my legs. “It is not hot, it’s stupid.” More than stupid—epically fucked up. My stepfather was the fire chief in Outtatowner and would definitely have a lot to say about me hooking up with one of his guys. Not only was Dad slightly overprotective, but I had grown up with all the behind-the-scenes stories about the reckless and dangerous tendencies of the men he worked with. I also had firsthand knowledge of the kind of men in his profession.noveldrama

Rachel frowned. “And you didn’t talk about your jobs before you let him go to Pound Town?”

My gaze whipped in his direction, and I lowered my voice. “We didn’t exactly do a lot of talking.”

Rachel hooted. “Oh, you dirty slut. I love it.” She bumped her elbow into the side of my arm. “I knew you were a good egg.”

A server came around, and I hastily ordered a vanilla porter before returning my attention to Rachel.

She squared me with a look. “You’re a big girl. Your dad shouldn’t have any say over who you fool around with.”

I shrugged. “I know. He’s just protective, and he’s always warned me about firefighters. Plus, I know from experience that they’re all either womanizers and cheaters or adrenaline junkies. Sometimes all three are wrapped up in an addictively hot package. Something about that type of man being caught up in the thrill of it all.” I chewed my lip. “But really that’s not the worst of it.”

Rachel’s wide eyes spurred me to continue. “I saw his uniform on the floor and I knew.” I blew out a breath. “And instead of talking about it, I completely freaked out.” I scrunched my face. “I gave him a high five and left.” I buried my face in my hands.

“You did what?” Rachel’s jaw hung open.

“Yeah, a high freaking five. And then I got dressed faster than I ever have in my entire life, left his house, and never looked back.”

Rachel nodded and laughed, then sat back. “So you ghosted him.”

My head reared back. “I didn’t ghost him. I just . . . never spoke to him again.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t leave your number?” Her bland look was unimpressed.

I cringed. “I practically ran out the front door as he was still zipping up his pants.” Shame coursed through me. I was a grown woman, fully capable of having a no-strings one-night stand, but I couldn’t help but feel bad for Whip. He’d been charming and funny, and leaving him without any kind of explanation left a slimy feeling in my gut. The fact that my immediate reaction was to run spoke volumes for how closed off I’d become.

Maybe Craig was right about me after all. Damn it.

My only hope was that my stepfather was right, and a man like Whip wouldn’t give me a second thought. Which, come to think of it, made my complicated feelings about the whole thing only worse.

I folded my arms and dropped my head to my forearms with a groan.

The server set down a round of waters for our table along with our drinks, and Rachel plucked it up and took a sip. “Well, there are worse things than a high five, you know.”

I wanted to be anywhere other than hiding at a back table at the Grudge, letting the shame of my awkward exit wash over me.

Rachel bumped my shoulder. “Well, relax, Casper. It looks like you’re off the hook.”

I lifted my head and my stomach pitched. A pretty brunette playfully draped her left arm across Whip’s back. He laughed at something she said and smiled down at her. The look was full of friendliness and affection.

I shouldn’t have cared. I was the one who’d bolted on him, after all, but nausea still rolled through me. My gaze was locked onto them as they engaged in what looked like friendly, comfortable conversation. Whip kicked off the bar and with his brother, along with the mystery woman in tow, headed toward the exit.

I had no right to wonder who she was or whether or not she was going home with him. It was none of my business, but a petty part of me hated her anyway. Between my fresh start and my father, any kind of future with Whip, a one-night stand or otherwise, was completely off the table.

As I watched the trio walk out of the Grudge, I couldn’t help but wonder if things in my life could be different.

Just this once.