Ruthless King (New Orleans Malones #4)

Chapter 4

4

W hat was happening right now?

He wouldn’t really spank her. He was teasing, right?

Sure. Because he sounds like he’s teasing. And he’s such a funny guy.

Yeah, she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him laugh.

The man didn’t joke around.

He was serious.

Regent Malone didn’t make threats that he wasn’t prepared to carry out.

So, did he really intend to spank her if he thought she needed it?

Lord help her.

Why didn’t she hate that idea? She should be ordering him out of her house . . . that was really his house . . . that he had a key to.

Holy. Moly.

Regent Malone had a key to her house.

He could come inside at any time.

What was she doing? Was it wise for her to stay here?

And where else would you go? You can’t afford anywhere else.

She had no savings. She’d sold everything that she could.

She’d be starting from absolute scratch.

Not to mention that Mama would likely return from her travels. And Jilly didn’t want that.

So, for now, she’d stay.

What would it be like to be over his knee? To feel him pressed against her? Would he strip off her panties and spank her bare? Would he lecture her?

Damn. Her clit was throbbing at the thought of him touching her like that.

For so long, he’d been the subject of her every fantasy. She’d even dreamed of him when she was with Lowell. Something that she’d felt ashamed of but had been unable to stop herself from doing.

Now she had a new fantasy to dream about.

And she’d thought the one she’d had about him the other night had been a doozy.

“Behave yourself and I won’t need to touch your bottom,” he warned.

“I always behave myself.”

That was the problem. She was too good. She didn’t push things enough. No one had ever accused her of pushing limits or boundaries. No one had ever threatened to take her in hand.

She was Jilly the rule follower. Jilly the boring.

Hadn’t Lowell told her that often enough? How boring and predictable she was?

She wasn’t exciting or interesting.

“Hmm. I thought you did. Now, I’m wondering. Walking around at night on your own isn’t something a good girl would do. And a good girl would have replaced the bulb in her security light.”

“I don’t usually walk home from the bus stop at night, but my boss kept me late, I needed to get groceries, and then the bus broke down. It was just bad luck all around.”

“Hmm. Why did your boss keep you back?” he asked as his hand pressed against the top of her foot.

She hissed.

“It’s that sore? Maybe you do need to see a doctor.”

“No. I just have sensitive feet.”

He gave her a stern look.

“It’s a thing! I have sensitive feet! You can’t shame me for that.”

Lord. She was acting like a lunatic.

“Jilly,” he grumbled.

“It’s just a bit sore.”

“Hmm. There’s a red mark, but it’s not swollen. I don’t think it’s broken. Move it around.”

She wiggled her foot back and forth. “See, it’s fine. If you want me to walk I can.” She tried to stand but he tightened his hold on her foot.

“No. Stay where you are. You haven’t explained why your boss wanted you to stay late.”

“Because she’s an old bat who feeds on the pain of others. I swear, she’s like three hundred years old, but instead of sucking on blood, meanness is keeping her alive.”

He stared at her for a moment before blinking.

Okay. Way to make a fool of yourself, Jilly.

“Do you still write stories?”

She groaned. “No.”

“Why not? It seems like you still have a good imagination.”

Great. That was his way of saying she was acting nuts. She got it.

“Yeah. I guess I do.”

“I’m not saying I don’t believe you about her being an . . . what did you call her? Old bat? Did something happen? Is she being mean to you?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” She was sure none of this would interest him.

In fact, she wasn’t sure why he was still here.

Or why he’d come in the first place. Jilly opened her mouth to ask him, but instead, a moan of pleasure escaped her as he dug his fingers into her arches.

Oh. Dear. Lord.

That felt so good.

“Do you like that?”

“You . . . I . . . wow.”

“You seem tired. I’m guessing you were on your feet a lot today.”

Yeah. She was. Running around the library. And then walking home in the . . . heat . . . oh dear Lord. She yanked her foot back, moving so violently that her chair tilted onto its back legs, her limbs flapping through the air as she tried to right herself.

Regent moved quickly, grabbing her chair and slamming it onto the floor. Then he stood, looming over her.

Uh-oh.

Why did she get the distinct impression that she was in trouble?

“Jillian Anne, you need to calm down and stop putting yourself at risk of getting hurt. That stops right now, do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

Jilly wasn’t sure where the Sir part came from. It just slipped out. But he seemed to like it. Some of the anger left his face.

“Now, sit right while I go pick up the groceries you dropped. You will not move. Except to drink this water.”

Grabbing her glass, he refilled it, placing it back on the table.

“Then we’re going to have a talk about safety while you eat a proper dinner. And by proper dinner, I am not talking about rice pudding.”

But it was so delicious.

And it was comfort food. She didn’t want to eat vegetables. You ate vegetables when things were going right in your life. When everything was going to crap, then you ate rice pudding.

Rice pudding was life.

Plus, this rice pudding was the good kind. A bit more expensive. But she needed it.

Right now she felt like an orange whose juice had all been sucked out, just leaving the shell and some sucked-on innards.

Hmm. That sounded gross.

She heard him talking. Then there was another voice. Was someone else was here? Getting to her feet, she tiptoed over to the doorway.

Jilly was good at staying under the radar, at sneaking around. But when she got to the doorway everything went silent.

Then she heard footsteps. Turning, she raced back to the chair.

Regent gave her a skeptical look when he returned. “Did you stay right there?”

“Where else would I go? I’m a good girl, remember?” She gave him an innocent look.

He made a scoffing noise as he carried an armful of her groceries over to the table, placing them down.

“You’re not fooling me, Jillian Anne Crane.”

She winced at hearing her last name. She usually used her mother’s maiden name now.

Her father had been known as The Crane. That name didn’t have happy connotations for her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly.

“Jilly, this doesn’t work if you lie to me,” he told her coldly as he inspected the bunch of bananas she’d bought.

They were all bruised.

Looks like she was going to be making banana ice cream.

“What doesn’t work?” she asked, confused.

He stilled, looking down at her. “Our relationship.”

“We have a relationship?”

Warmth filled her. They had a relationship! Something she’d always dreamed about.

Any moment now, he would rush across the room, pick her up into his arms and then fuck her against the wall. Or maybe he’d push her over the kitchen table.

Or just lay her down on the floor.

Jilly wasn’t fussy.

A strange look crossed his face before he cleared his throat. “Yes. We are acquaintances. Friends.”

“We’re friends?”

This. Was. Devastating.

Once more, she’d completely misread the situation.

What was she thinking? Of course he didn’t want her. As for being friends, well, that was a bit of a stretch too.

Acquaintances was closer to the truth.

“Um. Yes. What did you think we were?” he asked.

“I don’t know. It’s hard to describe.” Mainly because she didn’t want to. “I usually see my friends more often.”

“That could be arranged.”

Her heart raced. What did he mean by that could be arranged? Why would he want to see her more often?

It didn’t make sense. There was no way he wanted to be her friend. So there had to be another reason.

She longed to say yes. But she knew she had to say no.

That would be better for her mental health because seeing him all the time, wanting him, lusting after him . . . it wasn’t healthy.

Jilly had never been that great at looking after herself, though.

“Uh, yes?” She winced. Did he hear the question mark in her voice?

If he did, he didn’t show it.

“Good. You obviously need a friend to keep an eye on you.”

What was happening?

Did he even remember that she was twenty-nine? Why did she need watching?

“I have friends.”

Picking the bananas up, he carried them over to the trash, along with some wilted lettuce and some dirty grapes.

“Wait! Don’t throw that out.”

He stared down at the food. “It’s ruined.”

“The grapes just need to be washed. I’ll put the bananas in the freezer to make ice cream. But yeah, the lettuce is gone. To be fair, I think it was gone well before I dropped everything on the ground.”

“Banana ice cream?”

“It’s yummy. Have you never had it before?”

“No.”

“I’ll make it for you sometime. The best thing is that it’s made with only bananas. No dairy. Good if you’re watching what you eat. Not that you need to do that, obviously. You’ve got a great body. From what I can see.”

Shut up, Jilly.

He raised an eyebrow as he set about washing the grapes.

Jilly knew she was staring. But she couldn’t help it.

He was washing grapes.

Regent Malone. In her kitchen. Washing grapes.

Sounded like a strange version of Clue . With the life he led, she was knew it would more likely be . . .

Regent Malone. In the study. With a smoking gun.

Or something like that.

She hadn’t even considered that he could do something so . . . so domestic.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She jolted out of her daydream as she blinked at him. “Yes. Why?”

“Because I said your name several times and you just stared blankly at me.”

Oh, dear Lord.

What was she thinking?

Short answer was that she hadn’t been thinking. She couldn’t seem to think when she was around him.

Could this get any more mortifying?

“And thank you for the compliment. It’s gratifying to know that you think my body looks good.”

Next level of mortification achieved.