Bonus Chapter in Kingston's Point of View

​I love how this chapter shows just how messed up Kingston is in the head regarding his life and Adelaide.

He loves her and he resents her. He hates himself and resents his father and his life. He wants to do what's right, but Addie is his greatest weakness.

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​This contains majors spoilers, if you haven't read the book yet.

Chapter 5

I Saved it for Your

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Kingston

My phone dings with an alert from the front gate. I’m not expecting anyone for an hour—enough time to finally shower and change. I haven’t done either for nearly two days.

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At least I know the security app is working again. The new system I had installed to block hackers from tapping into my feed has been glitching.

I can’t take that chance with the inside of the castle, so as of now, I’m only having the grounds of the estate monitored. The last few days have involved checking the house for bugs, redoing all the security systems and cameras, running full background checks on all employees and house staff, firing anyone suspicious—which was nearly everyone—and digging into all my father’s shady business deals. Without Hayden’s older brother, Fritz, I wouldn’t know who to trust for help with this. It’s a lot, but I can’t sit on it and risk exposing my secrets to anyone, especially Slade.

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Leave it to my dad to screw me over in death just as thoroughly as he did in life. The man was more corrupt than I thought. I’ve made new arrangements for my mom’s privacy and protection as well. As for Addie, I have the same guy tailing her. I tell myself it’s to make sure she stays safe from any connection she’s had with me, but really, it’s to watch her.

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I check the feed on my phone to the front gate. The car isn’t one I recognize, but whoever’s driving managed to enter a code that opened the gates. A red strand of long hair catches in the breeze, blowing out the car window.

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My heart stops.

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Addie. What in the ever living fuck is she doing here? Last I saw—yesterday—she was at college, going to classes, and hanging out with her roommate, Devina.

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Sometimes she meets with a study group, but mostly she keeps to herself. She also doesn’t have a boyfriend, which I like more than I should. Over the years, she’s gone out with random guys—whom I wanted to murder—but nothing ever went beyond a few weeks of public dates.

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Knowing Addie, she heard about me firing everyone and locking myself in here like a self-imposed hostage, and she wants to know if I’m okay.

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Fuck her for being so damn sweet. She shouldn’t give two shits about me. I made sure of it. I made her fucking hate me, and it’s killed me every day since. I can’t deal with her. Not now. Not when I have a pile of crap on my plate from my dad, threats to fend off, and a whole new life to figure out. But mostly because I’m at my weakest. Addie could make me crumble. I need to stay strong and honor the vow I made to her dad—and to myself. She’ll never know what I did, or what I agreed to, in order to fix the fucked-up situation I almost dragged her into.

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My heart thunders to life at the second alert from my phone, notifying me that someone is at the front door.

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She’s here. After so many years of avoiding her and only watching her from afar or on video. Addie, the most beautiful woman in the world to me. The only person who can disarm me with those blueberry eyes and her flaming red hair. That fucking hair—long curls that I want to wrap around my fist.

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How many times have I imagined doing that? How many times have I imagined grabbing her and kissing her again, like I did when she was sixteen? Those lips were mine that day, even if she didn’t know it. They would forever be mine along with the rest of her.

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She deserves for me to kiss her until the only person’s tongue she can remember in her mouth is mine.

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No. I halt my steps in the great hall after descending the damn stairs without even knowing. This is why I can’t answer the door. My pull toward her is too unstable. I make unwise choices when I see her. Like when I kissed her at her penthouse.

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I told myself I’d just take a peek. It had been so long since she was sent to boarding school. I had her followed back then too. She’d blossomed into a young woman, and I had to see her in person and know if the pictures and videos I’d received of her were true—because she’d grown to be even more gorgeous that I imagined. I knew she would, but when I saw her in the flesh when she entered her home suite, I wasn’t prepared for my reaction. Real life is always better than anything else.

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I could fucking smell her. She always had a sweet fruity scent about her. It drove me wild. The way she filled out with curves a man—this man—dreamed about had me acting recklessly. I needed to touch her. I needed to taste her. I knew it was wrong.

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My ridiculous plan to pretend I hated her and to taunt her—the pathetic act I’d been reduced to—was the only way I could be around her without raising suspicion.

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I swore not to kiss her, but being that close to her, pinning her against that door, listening to her lie to me about having a boyfriend… The jealousy I felt, knowing any guy could be to her what I never could, pushed me to my limit.

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I kissed her, and it was heaven and hell rolled into one. When she clung to me, I almost stole her away then and made her mine forever.

So no. I won’t answer the door. No matter what she does. I’ll watch her safely from my phone.

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She’s still there, staring at the door, but her eyes peer up at the camera as if she knows I’m watching. Her hair swirls around her head like red flames tempting me to burn myself and deal with the consequences later.

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She pivots to leave. I step forward, my breath lodged in my throat. A silent plea plays in my mind. Don’t go. Stay just so I can watch you.

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As if she hears my thoughts, she halts and swings around, setting a thermos on the doorstep. I hadn’t noticed she was holding it, too caught up in her face and hair. Why a thermos? Was she leaving me soup? So fucking Addie. What else could it be?

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The answer slams into me with so much force I sway, off-balance. Hot chocolate with cinnamon. Our thing. Ours alone. I never shared that recipe with anyone else other than my favorite housekeeper. My mom’s recipe and the only memory I have of her not crying because of my dad. It was just us, just mother and son. A rare, cherished moment frozen in time. A moment I shared with the only other person who made me feel unconditionally loved.

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I unlock the door with the app on my phone before she can get too far away. If she hears it open, fate will have decided that I needed to see her. I tell myself that lie as I watch her pause and turn. The wind pushes open the door an inch once she’s fully around as if nature wants her to enter the house and see me.

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This is wrong. A huge mistake. I’ve jerked off to her more in this last year than I have in my life, and I started doing it when I turned fifteen. She wasn’t ready for anything I had to offer back then, but I was patient. For her I would wait. For her I would ruin my life.

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Remember what you vowed and send her away before you make any more mistakes.

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"Kingston?" Her sweet voice echoes off the quiet walls, reaching me from where I stand on the first floor.

 

I race up the stairs, knowing she’s headed this way. Once I’m on the second floor, I hide around the corner in the shadows. The house has plenty of them.

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“Kingston?” she calls out again from the bottom of the grand staircase, searching the second-floor mezzanine.

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When her back is to me, I walk to the stone railing and look down at her.

 

“Why are you here?” I ask in the cold, harsh voice I’ve trained myself to use with her.

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Her head jerks my way and those vulnerable eyes meet mine, begging me to open up and give her what she deserves—kindness and the truth.

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“Why did you let me in?” she asks, her voice shaky but determined.

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How long has it been since we stood this close, aware of each other’s presence?

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I love to be tormented, I want to answer. “I thought you were someone else.”

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“Someone else with long red hair?” she says with a bite of snark.

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Fuck her for knowing my bluff.

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I shrug and glance out the windows at the gardens. I’ve used this technique many times before around her. She hates it, so it’s perfect. It also keeps me from ogling her and giving myself away.

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“I don’t believe you.”

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Her reply almost draws my gaze. I suppress a smile of pride. My girl is ready to fight today.

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“I’m sorry for your loss.” The tenderness in her voice reaches into my chest and grabs hold of my heart.

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No one. Not one single person I’ve interacted with since my dad’s death or his funeral has spoken to me with such sincerity—with such understanding.

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Addie knows I’m not morning the loss of my dad as much as I am the life I must leave behind now. She knows my dad left me more times than he cared for me. She doesn’t know the full truth about my family or my secrets, but she knows enough. She also knows loss means change. She knows my dad passing this early in life means I must take over, and she knows I wanted to avoid that for as long as possible. I used to express this to her back when she was mine to tell. And because she knows me. Even after all I’ve done and all these years, she knows me better than anyone.

Fuck her for bringing it all back.

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I snort and shove off the stone railing, headed away from her. Hopefully, she’ll get the point and leave. It’s better for both of us if she does.

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“Kingston, wait!” Her footsteps patter up the stairs. “I brought your favorite hot chocolate.”

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I knew it! I fucking knew it! So damn sweet. I shouldn’t have let her in. This is too much. I can’t be as strong as I need to be right now. I duck into the nearest room and walk to the far side, hoping she passes by and looks for me in my room at the end of the hallway. Then I’ll find a place to hide and wait for her to leave. I almost laugh at how pathetic I am—hiding in my own house.

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“Kingston, please don’t run. I’m sorry. I truly am sorry. I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t. I left college to come here.”

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She left for me? Why?

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With my back to the door, I stiffen at the sound of her heavier breathing and footsteps as she enters the room.

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Don’t turn. Don’t look at her.

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I gesture to the table near the fireplace. “You can leave the hot chocolate.”

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“Really? That’s it?” 

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Still with the fighting?

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Resigned that I have to face her, I turn and rest my hands on my waist. My shirt’s a wrinkled mess, half tucked into my pants. These clothes are two days old. I haven’t showered in that time either. Perhaps my appearance will be enough to send her away.

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“What do you want from me?” I ask, letting slip how exhausted I am from this back-and-forth game with her—a game I can never win. 

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Her shoulders relax, and her eyes soften. “I … I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

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“Okay?” I mock instead of shouting that her being here is the worst torture of all. “My entire life has been ripped out from under me like a damn Persian rug.” I gesture to the portrait above the fireplace of my dad standing on his favorite rug. I should burn it. “Every bad decision that man made is in my hands now, and I don’t have a fucking clue what to do with the shitstorm he left for me.” I turn away, my breath racing, my anger directed at myself as much as it is my dad. Why did I let her in? 

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“That’s a lot,” she says in that same gentle tone.

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It’s like a blade to my heart. “No shit,” I snap on the verge of eruption.

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“I wouldn’t know what to do either. I don’t see how anyone would. This just happened. And so unexpectedly.”

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She’s literally going to kill me with kindness. She’s the only person who could.

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Be an ass. Be the cold asshole she thinks you are. It’s the only way to keep her safe.

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“Thanks for the summary. You’re a real fucking help.” I turn toward the windows again, my fingers balled into fists. I should punch myself.

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“You don’t have to be an asshole,” she snaps. “I’m here, trying.”

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“Why?” I lash out and whirl around. “Why do you care after everything I’ve done to you?” 

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You’re supposed to hate me!

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I shuffle toward her, my breath ragged, my patience about to snap. Once I’m close enough to take in the cinnamon freckles on her pert nose, I know I’ve made a mistake. ​I stare down at her beautiful face, drowning in her sincere eyes.

 

“Why do you care?” I whisper as bitterly as I can, my heart aching over what I’ve done and have to continue to do.

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She holds my gaze, not intimidated by me like she used to be. But then, was she ever really afraid of me?

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“I don’t know,” she breathes, searching my face with so much hope it cracks my carefully iced-over façade.

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If only things had been different. If only my dad had been someone else. If only I hadn’t made a deal with him that now haunts me even after his death. Maybe I should be wishing never to have met her. I’d feel a lot less pain.

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A lock of my bangs falls over my eye.

 

She reaches up to brush it away.

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No! I catch her wrist before she can touch me and ruin everything. “There’s nothing for you here. You should have stayed away.” The harsh words feel like razors on my tongue.

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She winces like I struck her deep. “You’re a piece of shit.”

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I want to pull her to me and tell her I hate everything I’ve said and done over the last few years. I hate everyone but her. Never her. To make sure I don’t, I paste on the smirk she despises. The smirk I use to give to bullies to protect her or that I flashed to any piece of shit I wanted to disrespect. Cold is safe.

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“Never said I wasn’t.” Now let her go.

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I tell myself to pry my fingers from her warm skin, and her pulse that’s pounding under my touch. But my body rebels against the command, and I tug her closer to me.

 

Her lips part with a surprised breath, and my gaze falls to her pouty little mouth. ​If she were mine, I’d do so many things to that mouth.

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When I bring my focus to her eyes, I see her thoughts as clearly as I can see her dilated pupils. She wants to kiss me. She wants me. After all this time, that electric charge that was always between us is still there, pounding through her veins and making her look at me like she needs me to end this torture for both of us—if only for a moment. One blissful moment.

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I twist her arm behind her back, so our bodies touch and she’s locked against me. Her warm breath fans my mouth with the hint of cinnamon and cocoa. ​Nothing sounds in the large room other than our breathing. It’s just us. Addie and me.

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“Tell me you hate me,” I murmur. I need to hear that she hates me before I put us out of our misery. She can want me and still hate me, but she needs to hate me.

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“I hate you.” Tears brim in her soulful eyes, revealing the truth. She wishes she could hate me.

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“You lie,” I whisper and do what I’ve been wanting to do since I last kissed her—hell, since I turned fifteen and saw her as more than a friend but as my future.

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I seal my lips over hers, kissing her with so much force she stumbles backward. Quickly, I let go of her hand so we don’t fall and grab her waist, my lips barely parting from hers.

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She tastes like sugar and memories, like love and acceptance. It’s everything I’ve wanted, everything I lost when I lost her, and everything I’ve needed since.

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I don’t even realize we’re still moving until she abruptly stops with an, “Oof.”

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What the fuck? I force my lips to part from hers to see what happened. I backed her into the damn fireplace.

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Stop. Walk away. Kiss her again.

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I grab her waist and carry her to the nearest table, setting her on top. It’s high, the perfect height for me to do whatever I want to her, and I want to do a lot. I’ve been dying to.

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Her wide eyes collide with mine as if she can’t believe this is happening. She can’t believe I want her and am doing this with her. I can’t believe I’m doing it either, but I also can’t bring myself to stop.

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“Kingston?” she murmurs my name as if to ask me what we’re doing and why.

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I can’t have that, so I claim her deliciously soft lips again, silencing her.

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She doesn’t resist, just melts under my touch, and grips at my shirt.

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I tilt my head and lick the seam of her lips, begging to get back in and taste more of her. She opens for me and meets my tongue with eager strokes that send all the blood to my dick.

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Her dainty hands lift to my hair and, fuck, its heaven having those fingers run through my strands. How many times have I imagined this too?

When she moans, I lose my shit and grope at her like a sixteen-year-old getting to second base for the first time. Her tits fit my hands perfectly. I stroke her taught nipples wishing I could see them. I’ve fantasized about her naked more times than I can count.

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 I unhook her bra and caress her firm breasts, debating whether to rip off her shirt so I can feast on them. Blood races through my veins, and my skin grows hot with need. Fighting to maintain my control, I slide my hands to her back and caress her silky skin before returning to her breasts. I pinch and roll her beaded nipples between my fingers. My mouth waters at the thought of having them between my teeth. Would that scare her? I opt for her earlobe instead and give it a gentle bite.

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She gasps with pleasure and her hands return to my shirt, tugging the fabric from my pants.

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Holy fuck, Addie. You better still be innocent.

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What if she isn’t?

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I pull back and seize her wrists, stopping her from undressing me. My breath races, and my dick is as hard as a rock. I finally have her like this and I put on the brakes? Because she’s not mine. Because she’s meant for someone else. Someone who might have had her in the way I dream about having her. Someone that my spies missed. Could that be possible?

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“Don’t,” she says, her eyes pleading.

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Don’t stop is what she's saying—begging.

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Now that I’m no longer touching her, what I’ve done rings loud in my head and it’s not with victory bells. This will not help me keep her safe from me or anyone else. Five years of work. Five years of resistance. Five years of longing. I’ve already started this. Should I say fuck it and just take her. Take her the way I’ve wanted and then discard her like I need to. Could I?

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She yanks her hands from my hold and rips off her shirt, tossing it and her bra onto the floor.

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My bottom lip drops with my shock. Adelaide sits before me completely nude from the waist up, her pink puckered nipples on display for me.

I can tell she’s nervous by the tension in her shoulders, but she’s baring herself to me, showing me what I’ve wanted for so long. Her breasts are the perfect size for her body. Those nipples grow tighter under my gaze. Again, I debate whether I should feast on them and take what I believe has always been mine. Salivating, I wipe my mouth, at war with myself for the millionth time when it comes to her.

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“Fuck.” I force my gaze away before I do something I—she—might regret. With how I’m feeling, I wouldn’t be gentle. I would fuck her like the caged animal I’ve become and take more than she might be willing or able to give.

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“Kingston, please?” More begging. Does she want to destroy me beyond repair?

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I turn only my eyes to her. “Why? Why do you want this? Why?” Does she still care for me or is this about the sexual tension we never released? A form of closure.

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“I always imagined it’d be you.”

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That draws a dark laugh from me. I have to look away again. She is innocent like I thought and she wants me to be her first. Why? To break her in for other guys? Because for some warped reason, she still trusts me to be gentle with her?

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I force my gaze to stay on the bedroom doors so I’m not tempted to look at her. “You shouldn’t want anything from me. I made sure of it.” And what a shitty job I did considering she’s here topless trusting me to take her.

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“Kingston, I want you. Please, just give me this. I saved it for you,” she confesses with such earnest it’s like being gutted with a dull knife.

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I sigh, my eyes closing with my torment. If she wants this, it will be my way or no way. I doubt she’ll want it my way.

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I face her and place my hands on either side of her legs, caging her in as I move between her spread thighs. “You want me to fuck you?” I ask in my most seductive voice, trapping her gaze with mine.

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“Fuck? No. I want you to be my first.”

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So honest and vulnerable. I could take her and make her think it’ll be gentle then do what I’ve been dying to do for years. In my heart, she’s still mine. That first is mine too.

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“What if I want to fuck you? Right here. On this table.” I challenge her—warn her—tapping the tabletop as I speak.

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I’d do it right here. Then I’d take her again on the couch behind me and then in my room on my bed. That’s what I’m offering. No lovemaking for us. Only fucking. I couldn’t handle the first, and I want the latter whether I deserve it or not.

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Nervousness flickers through her eyes as well as curiosity, which is almost my undoing.

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Redness darkens her cheeks, and her gaze flits about this room to the bed and the couch, as if she’s considering my fuck-only offer. I can practically hear her heart beating with want. For me. This was a bad decision.

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“Take your time,” I mock, infuriated that she’s actually considering this. Would she consider it with another guy if this were all he offered her? 

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Her gaze tightens. “You’re such an ass. To think I forgot for a moment and threw myself at you.”

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Finally some normalcy from her. I use it to cool my desire and regain some sanity, reminding myself why this is wrong.

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“You didn’t throw yourself at me,” I say, mocking her again and straighten to my full height, moving my hands to my sides and away from her thighs.

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“I threw my shirt and bra on the floor.” She snaps her wrist at them.

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Has she done this before? Is this why she’s so mad? Did other guys refuse her too? I step back farther and rest my hands on my hips, acting as if this is no big deal. Just another day. “That’s not throwing yourself at me.”

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She scowls. “This is clearly going nowhere.”

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To my surprise, she hops down from the high table and stumbles directly into my arms.

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I catch her and tense at the feel of her warm bare skin under my hands. Her sugary blueberry scent washes over me as her silky hair falls over my arms—where my sleeves are rolled up—smelling of her, of heaven. So easily I could turn her and claim her lips, then her tits, then her body. All of her would be mine.

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“Thanks,” she mutters thoughtfully, ice-picking me in the chest.

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I tsk with anger. “Still so fucking sweet.”

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She shoves me away and stands there facing me, her breasts rising and falling with each rough breath she takes, taunting me with what I can’t have.

 

Tears fill her eyes. “I fucking hate you. So fucking much. You are nothing but a letdown. One big fucking letdown, and I’m tired of it. I’m tired of comparing guys to you. I’m tired of wanting you when I fucking hate you. I’m tired of lo—” She cuts herself off, but I heard the start of the word.

 

I know what she was going to say, and I can’t believe it. Still, after all this time, she loves me?

 

She wipes her nose, her eyes glossy no matter how many times she blinks. “I’m sorry you’re hurting and for everything you’ve lost. I wish I could have helped you, but I can’t do this anymore. I’m done for real this time. When I leave, I’m not coming back. Ever.”

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Good.

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She grabs her clothes, haphazardly covering her chest, hiding those beautiful breasts—never to be seen by me again—and faces me, her gaze sad and haunted.

 

Only Addie can rip my heart from my chest with just a look. I hate myself for doing this to her. For being so weak that I slipped and gave in to my needs, forgetting about how this will affect her, and how it will destroy me. I’d learned to cope without her. I’d become a zombie, but it worked, mindlessly fucking girls on campus who offered. I do my work, attend classes and some parties, go through the motions, and live for the moments when I can spy on her. Now, after touching and tasting her, I’ll endure a new misery. She will too. Because I let it get to this point.

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“I’m sorry how things worked out,” she continues. “I wish it would have been different for us, but…” Her bottom lip trembles.

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Fucking hell. I can’t watch this. I’m going to her, and this time, I won’t let go.

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She composes herself before I can take a step and gives me the saddest, tear-filled smile. “It doesn’t matter. Take care, Kingston. I wish you the best.”

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Is she really leaving? Is this what she wants? I’m fucking breaking her. I swore I’d protect her, and she looks like she’s about to weep on the floor.

I did this. I ruined her. I destroyed her for a second time. I’m the worst person in the world for her. I should be holding her and comforting her. That is protecting her.

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But what if Slade finds out? I can’t be with her and risk him discovering anything about us. The man’s insane and has eyes on me all the time. I can’t be with her at all. Nothing has changed. My dad might be gone, but his contract is still intact as is the deal I made with Addie’s dad. He would shut this down too if he found out I was with his daughter. If not, he could either arrest me for breach of contract or tell Slade. But that would put Adelaide in danger so her dad wouldn’t do that. I don’t need jail to keep me from her either. I can’t do shit from in there.

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Fuck. This is so messed up. One more complication added to my shit-piled plate.

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“Fine,” she murmurs.

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I look up in time to see a tear roll down her cheek before she walks away. 

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Chase her. Let her go. Save her. Tell her the truth. Tell her I’m sorry. Tell her it’s only ever been her.

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I can protect her. I can make her happy and keep her safe. But what if I can’t? Is her life worth the risk?

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For hours, I stand in that room, replaying what we did, what she said and the look on her face when she left. I go over everything I’d have to do to stay away from her and everything I’d have to do to go after her and make her mine.

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The right thing to do is to leave her be. Let her move on. Let her find happiness in someone else. She deserves happiness. She wants me though. Still. She loves me. After all this time. That’s Addie. When she gives her heart, she gives it forever. I have that and I could have so much more of her… But at what cost?

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My feet are numb by the time I leave the room. I head downstairs to the billiard room my dad loved. I’m going to burn his favorite rug, then drink until I pass out or die. Both are better than living like this.

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I just poured myself a glass of bourbon when I get a call from Marco—the guy I have watching Addie.

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“Yeah?” I answer.

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“You said to call if she does something reckless. I don’t know if this counts as reckless, but she’s definitely dressed for trouble.”

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What is she up to? “Where is she?”

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“She left her apartment with her roommate and the sister. I’m following them now. I texted you a video of her dress. They look like they’re going clubbing.”

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The text comes through, and rage fills me. Addie walks with Davina to her car. Her hot pink dress is skintight at the waist and short as hell, showing off her long, sexy legs. She has on high fuck me heels, and her tits, which I now have seen, are busting from the strapless top. Her long hair hangs over one shoulder, revealing her back where the dress dips lower.

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Fucking hell. If she’s going to a club dressed like that, she’s after something. Something we started but that left her sad, brokenhearted, and in heat apparently.

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There is no way in hell that I’m allowing her to hook up with a random guy after she offered herself to me. No fucking way. I started this, and I’ll be the one to finish it.

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Addie is and always will be mine.