King (Vegas Kings Book 2) Read online

  KING

  Mckenna James

  Copyright ©2021 by Mckenna James

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

  Cover Design by Moonstruck Cover Design & Photography, moonstruckcoverdesign.com

  Cover Image by WANDER AGUIAR PHOTOGRAPHY

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Also By Mckenna

  About Mckenna

  Chapter 1

  Piper

  Waking up without an alarm isn’t something I usually do.

  Neither is waking up on silk sheets.

  Or with a warm body pressed against my back, one big, masculine hand skimming up the side of my bare thigh, leaving goose bumps in its path.

  It’s a definite improvement over my normal morning routine. Even better when that hand slides between my legs, anticipation already making me breathless.

  Then, like the light of day itself just washed over me, I realize what’s going on. Where I am. Who is behind me.

  And my heart drops.

  Oh my God. What have I done?

  Before I can pull away, his lips are on the back of my neck, and my body arches into him without any direction from me. A rush of heat flows from his lips, all the way through my body until it connects with his fingers, the ones slowly exploring me and making my toes curl, every cell paralyzed with pleasure.

  Somehow, I manage to clamp my legs together tight enough that his fingers stop moving. The fog clears from my brain, and I pull away from him, stumbling out of the giant bed, searching for my clothes.

  Even though the place is immaculate—no doubt thanks to the Four Seasons’ staff, rather than his own fastidiousness—finding the dress I had on last night is an impossible task. I thought my bedroom was absurdly large for one person, but this one might as well be an auditorium. I didn’t even know the Four Seasons had a suite this size, but I also never would have had a reason to come here if King hadn’t slipped me his room key after the concert last night.

  I can feel him looking at me while I’m conducting this search completely nude. I snatch one of the sheets off the bed and wrap it around myself.

  He laughs, having the good sense to turn it into a cough when I shoot a glare at him.

  “What’s so funny?”

  He’s trying to keep a straight face, but there’s an unmistakable twinkle in King’s eyes that tells me he’s still laughing at me on the inside.

  “Did you have some transformation since last night? Because if you didn’t, I’ve already seen everything you have to show.”

  My face burns, and I stalk off to the far side of his master suite, hoping the distance will make it harder to see the heat in my cheeks.

  “Yeah, well, that was a big, dumb mistake, now wasn’t it?” I snap back, finally spotting my lace thong under a chair.

  “Was it?” he asks. The amount of sincerity in his voice makes me turn to look back at him, incredulous.

  “Yes. It was. I shouldn’t have to explain that to you.” King knows as well as I do why this should have never happened.

  So why did it?

  I can’t believe I’m hunting down last night’s outfit in King Dorsey’s freaking hotel room. Like I’m some kind of groupie who couldn’t keep my hands off of him after the show.

  That’s pretty much what happened, isn’t it?

  To be honest, I’m not sure what happened. One minute, I was telling my brother’s girlfriend about a stupid girlhood crush that I never expected would amount to anything, and the next, that same crush was propositioning me for sex.

  The whole rest of the night is wrapped in a dream-like gauze, still bordering on unbelievable even though I’m currently stuck here with him.

  “You could help me look for my dress, you know,” I mutter, growing more frustrated by the second. It’s shiny and silver; how can it be this hard to find?

  “Yeah, I could,” King says, sitting upright, but not budging from the bed. “You know, most women would be thrilled after spending a night with a famous rock star, not giving him attitude.”

  “Seriously?” I glare at him, shoving my hair over my shoulder. “I’ve known you since you were eight. You don’t really expect me to fawn over you, do you?”

  He offers a half-hearted shrug, not quite looking me in the eye.

  “I’ve seen you in so many questionable situations; it’s a wonder I find you attractive at all. Don’t push it.”

  My rebuke doesn’t have quite the intended effect. King’s face splits into a grin, and he leans back against the headboard. “But you do find me attractive,” he says. It’s not a question.

  I roll my eyes, finally spotting my dress in a tiny, wrinkled puddle. No Galvan deserves that treatment.

  It also doesn’t deserve to be my walk of shame ensemble, but it’s a little late to be worried about that.

  “Don’t go denying it now,” he says, that stupid twinkle in his eye again. “I heard what you said to Ellie. About your crush,” he emphasizes, waggling his eyebrows.

  I don’t know if I want to sink through the floor or throw something at his smug face. Maybe both. Why did I ever think it was a good idea to hook up with my brother’s best friend?

  Well, I knew it was a bad idea the whole time; I just didn’t let that stop me. That might be worse.

  “Whatever you think you heard, just forget it,” I tell him, zipping up my dress. “This? It’s not happening. It shouldn’t have happened this time, but it definitely can’t happen again.”

  He frowns, arms crossed over his chest, head tilted to the side. “And why not? Give me one good reason.”

  I scoff. He must be joking. Does he really need me to spell it out for him?

  He looks serious, though. My God, how thick can he be?

  “I’m too busy with work for complications. You’re a manwhore who’s only in it for the chase; not to mention Jack would absolutely lose his—”

  “I said one reason,” King interrupts. “And there’s no reason Jack would even need to know. I’m not going to tell him; are you?”

  “There’s nothing to tell him. We both need to forget last night ever happened and never ever bring it up with Jack. This goes to our grave. Do you understand me, King?”

  He’s relaxed in the bed, his arms up behind his head, his body spread out and naked, tempting me and drawing me in. I grit my teeth and stand my ground. Where the hell are my shoes?

  “Come on, Piper. I know they tell you girls it’s cute to play hard to get, but we’re past that, aren’t we? You’ve already admitted you’re attracted to me, and now that you’ve had a taste of this, how long do you really think you’ll be able to resist?”

  “Your ego is really teetering on narcissism. It’s not happening. Do you know where I left my purse?”

  “On the bar,” he grumbles, the twinkle in his eyes dimming.

  Good. He needs to understand how seriously we’ve fucked up and not treat this like it’s some big joke.

  I peek out to the main living room and spot my shoes
by the door. Thank goodness. Before I sprint out of his hotel room, I pop back into his bedroom long enough to level another stern look at him.

  “Not. A. Word,” I insist. He holds up his hands in surrender, and I bolt out of his suite before another second of drowning in his pheromones breaks my willpower. I’m barely in the elevator when my phone rings.

  “What?” I answer, figuring it’s King trying to push my buttons already.

  “Uh… Hello?” Jack says cautiously. My stomach drops.

  “Shit. Breakfast at Tableau, right? I’m sorry. It’s been a crazy morning. Give me an hour.” There’s no way I can show up to breakfast with my brother and his new girlfriend in the same outfit they saw me in last night. That’s too many red flags, and I don’t need Jack poking around in my life right now.

  “Is everything okay?” Jack asks, worried.

  “Yep, just putting out tiny fires. Forty-five minutes. Hour tops and I’ll be there, okay?”

  Instead of going all the way home to the suburbs, I head to The Grandiose, praying none of my employees see me on my way up to my office.

  Most people probably assume I got to where I am in this business because of my brother. After all, he owns the hotel I manage, but I worked for every step I climbed. I got to this position because I’m a workaholic, and like any workaholic worth their salt, I have a shower and full closet in my office, just for those times when I need to live here to put out the bigger fires.

  Twenty-five minutes after my call with Jack and I’m already blow-drying my hair. I make it to the restaurant with almost ten minutes to spare.

  “Nice of you to join us,” Jack says, arching his brow at me.

  “Cut me some slack,” I sigh. “I’m never late for anything.”

  “So why were you this time?” Jack asks, never one to leave well enough alone.

  “I had some stuff I needed to deal with.” A loud chime from my purse startles me, and I take a deep breath as I extract my phone.

  Keep it together, Pipe, or he’s going to know something’s up.

  The minute Jack gets suspicious is the minute I’m screwed. He’s a bloodhound once he’s on the scent.

  King: Miss me yet?

  I scowl at the phone before putting it facedown in my lap.

  “More fires?” Jack asks.

  “Babe, maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it?” Ellie suggests, glancing my way. She’s in a difficult position: technically, I’m her boss—of course Jack is sort of my boss—but she’s dating him, so it’s in her best interest to keep the peace.

  Poor girl. She has her work cut out for her.

  “Thank you. Is it so much to ask for a little privacy?”

  Jack doesn’t look like he’s buying it. “Why do you need privacy?”

  “Jack,” Ellie admonishes with a whisper. My phone chimes again, releasing any shame Jack might’ve been starting to feel.

  King: Someone misses you…

  There’s a picture of his junk that pops up next. I try to hide it as fast as possible, but I’m pretty sure Ellie sees enough flesh-colored blur to figure out what kind of text I just got.

  She says something to him that I can’t hear, and I’m too busy muting my phone to eavesdrop, but Jack laughs.

  “I know you haven’t known Piper long, but … I doubt it,” he says, still chuckling. Ellie doesn’t look amused.

  “You’re selling her short,” she argues.

  “Right here, guys,” I chime in.

  Ellie sighs. “I was just telling him you might be talking to a guy you’re not wanting to be public about yet,” she says with a tiny shrug.

  I narrow my eyes at her, trying to read between the lines. Is she saying she knows about me and King? She was there when he overheard my embarrassing admission, but I don’t think she saw him slip me his room key. Besides, everyone knows that Jack’s declared me off-limits to all his friends, and those guys have such a strong bond, and none of them would ever break that rule.

  Or I didn’t think any of them would.

  When I don’t immediately deny Ellie’s suggestion, Jack sobers, his shoulders tensing as he leans forward.

  “Is that what’s going on?” he asks, brow furrowed. Part of me is annoyed at his over-protective big brother schtick, but the other part understands why he is this way, and I can hardly hold it against him.

  “Nothing’s going on,” I lie, reaching for a menu even though I don’t have an appetite.

  Jack’s ready to lose his mind at the thought of me fooling around with any guy; I can’t even imagine how crazy he’d get if he found out it was King. He’d kill him and never trust my judgment again.

  Not ideal. Maybe a fair assessment, but not ideal.

  My phone vibrates in my lap, and I do everything I can to ignore it and not wonder about the latest lewd text from King.

  As annoying as it is, there’s still a flutter in my stomach thinking about the messages he’s sent. And when I think about that picture he sent … it’s not just a flutter, and it’s not exactly in my stomach.

  My body craves more of King, but that’s all the more reason why it can never happen again. Why it never should’ve happened in the first place.

  Another buzz, and even though I don’t trust myself to actually read the messages right now, I make a show of glancing at my phone and frowning.

  “I’m sorry, can we get a raincheck on breakfast? I thought I’d dealt with this, but—”

  “Yeah,” Jack answers, frowning. “Do what you need to do.”

  “I hope you’ll tell me what’s going on sometime, though,” he adds as I’m pushing back my chair.

  “Nothing’s going on,” I insist again, but I don’t sound convincing even to myself. It was a mistake to come here and try to put on a brave face without giving myself time to process last night. I need to go home and get King out of my head, get far away from the temptation of falling back into bed with him, and do whatever I can to convince him this isn’t going to happen.

  If I have to ghost him completely, that’s what I’ll do. It’s better than the alternative.

  Chapter 2

  King

  This is not how I expected things to go. How could I?

  What kind of woman ghosts the famous rockstar she slept with?

  Generally, it’s the other way around, but of course Piper never could do things like everyone else. She’s always forged her own path, never looking back, never letting anyone get in her way.

  I just never expected her to steamroll past me.

  It’s been three days since she practically sprinted out of my hotel suite, and I haven’t heard a peep from her. Not for lack of trying either; she’s ignoring all my texts. Any other woman in the world, I’d cut my losses and forget about it. Why chase after someone who clearly isn’t interested? But with Piper, I can’t leave well enough alone.

  Even when I’m at lunch with my best friend, her over-protective brother, Jack. I can’t resist sending her a flirtatious little text, knowing that I’m not going to get a response.

  “So then, Terry says, ‘that’s what gravity is for,’” Jack laughs, shaking his head as he reaches for his beer.

  I wasn’t listening to the story. I was too busy beating myself up for not taking any souvenir photos of his sister while I had her naked, so I chuckle along, hoping he doesn’t expect any kind of response.

  Luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice how absentminded I am.

  “When are you headed back out on tour?” he asks.

  “No clue. You heard Vince got arrested, right?”

  His eyes widen. “No shit? What for?”

  Distracted as I am, I still can’t help but roll my eyes at my manager’s stupidity.

  “Being an idiot, mostly. I told him there’s no such thing as an ‘emotional support alligator’, but he swore up and down that ‘Little Vinny’ wasn’t like other gators. Well, Little Vinny might be special, but he still decided someone’s fingers looked like a good snack.”

  Jack
snorted. “Damn, and they arrested him?”

  “For the exotic animals and the mountain of blow they found. His lawyer had him sent to rehab, so he’s probably going to get off with a fine once he tells his sober story to the judge.”

  And knowing Vince, it’ll only be a matter of time before he’s back to his old tricks without having learned a thing. I owe the guy a lot—he’s always been a good manager, and I wouldn’t have the level of success I do without his influence—but I’m starting to think I might be outgrowing him.

  “So the tour dates are kind of up in the air, now,” I add with a half shrug, glancing toward the door. Ace is supposed to be meeting us here, but he’s late as usual. Asher’s off on his honeymoon, leaving me with no buffer. I don’t trust myself to keep playing it cool with Jack while I’m picturing his sister’s rosy, pink nipples in my face.

  “Must be tough to find a decent manager in this town,” Jack remarks. “We just had one of our acts back out of their contract because their manager screwed them, and they’re in on-going litigation.”

  “Shit,” I mutter. At least things never got that bad between me and Vince. His antics just annoy me sometimes—I’m the rockstar, after all. I should be the one making headlines for drug-fueled parties with wild animals. But he’s never stolen from me or gotten me a bad deal.

  “Yeah, it’s kind of put us in a bind with an empty stage.”

  “I’ll bet.” A resort like The Grandiose is known for offering it all—not just world-class gaming and amenities, but fine dining and entertainment, too. Without all the pieces of the puzzle, people will just choose one of the many other spots on the strip.

  “Don’t say anything to Asher,” Jack grumbles. The two of them have always had a friendly rivalry about their hotels—part of the reason I don’t ever stay with either one of them, despite the comps I’d get. I don’t want to pick sides in their little turf war.

  Suddenly, a thought occurs to me, giving me a little spark of hope. I have to be careful how I approach it, though.

  “Piper must be losing her shit, huh?” I ask casually, reaching for my whiskey, a twenty-five-year-old single malt that goes for almost three grand a bottle. It’s a far cry from the twelve-year stuff I drank when I was younger, but Macallan’s still my go-to after all these years.