She ducked her head. “King, I’m not beautiful.” Waving a hand over herself, she said, “This body is broken.”
He prowled closer. “Because you can’t carry a child?”
“Yes.” The word was whispered, hoarse, filled with a pain he couldn’t imagine bearing.
His knee landed on the mattress. “No.” He growled the denial as he pushed forward. “This body isn’t only meant for pregnancy. It carries your soul.” Dipping his head so he could peek up into her face, he tried to convey the truth with his gaze as much as his words. “That soul is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and when I get to touch this body, I get to touch that soul.” A kiss, gentle, then hard. “I’ve never felt anything more beautiful than that.”
Charlotte stared into his eyes for a long time, the brown of her irises almost black. Finally her expression softened, and she reached a hand up to the tie along her shoulder. “Thank you.”
When the material unknotted and the silk slid down her shoulder to bare one round breast, his mouth watered. “I think that’s my line.”
A laugh filtered out between them. Charlotte laid back against the mound of pillows as she reached for the opposite tie. “Then you’re welcome.”
He didn’t wait for the gown to come off—he was on her breasts before it had whispered down to her waist. Cupping each mound in one hand, he rubbed his nose in the valley between them and soaked in her scent, the feel of her surrounding him.
“King,” Charlotte moaned, arching against him. From memories ingrained deep inside, he knew exactly what she wanted. He turned his head and grasped one dark nipple between his teeth to suck her in.
Her cry was high, filled with pleasure and need. King nursed her greedily, hungry for her taste and for more of that sound, more of her pleasure. Rolling with her onto their sides, he nestled against her and feasted.
Charlotte surged restlessly against him, her hand buried in his hair, clutching him to her hard. When her thigh lifted to curl around his back, pull him close, he reached between them and slid sure fingertips between the lips of her sex.
So wet. So good.
Too good. He could already feel the pressure of his orgasm building at the base of his cock, his need to be inside her a clawing hunger he didn’t think he could hold back. Charlotte felt the same if her swollen, slick flesh was telling the truth. Her body had never lied to him before, but to be sure, he slid first one finger, then a second into her opening, testing her readiness, reacquainting himself with those spots that had always set her off, the tightness that strangled his fingers now like they had his cock from the moment she’d given him her virginity so many years ago.
“King, King, King.” She chanted his name to the rhythm of his thrusts. He shifted his hand, pressed his thumb to her clit, and raised his head to watch as she went off like a rocket. Every part of her tightened—her closed eyes, her grip on his head, her leg thrown over him. Those tiny muscles deep inside gripped his fingers like a vise, like she never wanted to let him go.
I hope to God she doesn’t.
A second orgasm hit her as he worked his fingers, more gently now. Charlotte shuddered her way through it before rolling to her back. “Come here. Come inside me.”
Only when his naked cock slid against her pleasure-slicked skin did he realize… “Wait. I don’t have a condom.” Fuck. He squeezed his eyes shut. He certainly didn’t need condoms on an op; hell, he hadn’t needed them outside of an op in longer than he could remember. Without Charlotte…well, suffice it to say he didn’t do casual sex, and the few times he’d tried anything more long-term just hadn’t felt right.
He pushed the thought away and reached for her hand, wrapping it around him. “Bring me off, angel.”
She slid her hand down, spreading the moisture from her body along his rigid cock. “I want you inside me, King.”
“I won’t risk you.” The words rasped through his throat as pleasure rocketed up his shaft.
“Are you clean?”
He wrapped a hand around hers, stilling her so he could focus. This was too important to get wrong. “I am.” It might’ve been a long time, but JCL required regular checkups, including blood work. “That doesn’t mean I’ll—”
Her wet fingers settled against his lips. “I can’t get pregnant. And I’m clean.” She dipped a finger inside, gifting him with her taste. “I want you inside me. Give me this.”
He wasn’t about to argue, not with her flavor on his tongue. He dipped his head to share it with her as he guided his cock to her body, then inside. Heat swamped him, her grip a hot clasp he had to force his way through. Charlotte tilted her head back, mouth open on a gasp, and he dipped to suck a hard, dark nipple as he retreated, then surged back inside.
King drowned in a cacophony of gasps, thrusts, flesh and pleasure. Time lost its meaning as he gorged himself on her, on the sweetness of her cries and the swell of his hunger. On the rush to the peak. And when it was over, when their breaths had gone quiet and the darkness blanketed them in safety, he knew.
He couldn’t walk away, not again. Not without her. No matter what happened.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Charlotte woke with that drugged feeling you got when you slept hard and deep but not nearly long enough. Without thinking, she reached across the soft sheets for a warm body, only to find cool air and empty space.
Her eyes popped open. “King?”
The bathroom door opened, the tall, muscular figure of her lover stepping out, the white towel around his waist emphasizing the tan expanse of his skin. She sucked in her breath at his beauty but held it out of fear—how would he react this morning? How did he want to move forward? From his reactions last night she didn’t think it would be a one-time thing if she didn’t want it to be, but the uncertainty built through so many years of self-doubt reared its ugly head anyway.
“Morning, angel.” King walked straight to her and bent to brush his lips across hers. The sound of that word in his deep voice sent a shiver along her skin. He hadn’t called her that in so long, not until last night. He’d whispered it, groaned it, growled it over and over through the night, though, until the scar where it had been branded on her heart was ripped right off. Helplessly she grasped his jaw in both hands and kissed him back, much more thoroughly and deeply.
There was that growl again.
Cool air rushed over her as King pulled the sheets off her body. “Jesus, Charlotte,” he rasped, bending to brush the stubble on his cheeks across her rapidly tightening nipples. “I can’t seem to get enough of you.”
“Me too.” She arched, begging without words for him to suck one of the tight tips. His mouth on her breasts had always driven her higher than any other foreplay. When King complied, gripping her nipple with sharp teeth and pulling it hard into his mouth, a whine of need escaped her lips. The truth was, no matter how good it felt for him to touch her, to take her, it was the fact that it was King that made her insatiable. He’d been the only man she ever gave herself to completely, bare of any secrets, open in every way. That had made him the only man capable of destroying her—and he had.
Now?
Driving her fingers through his wet hair, she pushed him back until she could meet his gaze. “King…”
One side of his mouth tipped up in a chagrined smile. “Angel.”
She shivered beneath the weight of his body. That endearment was the only thing that kept her eyes on his.
He planted a hand near her hip, on the opposite side of her body, lifting himself off her enough that she could gather her thoughts. “Tell me,” he said.
It had been the only thing he ever commanded her to do. Oh, he could get bossy in bed because he knew it made her melt, but he’d never tried to take over her decisions. All he’d ever demanded was that she share her thoughts with him.
And she responded just as she always had. “I missed you.”
Bending his head, he placed a tender kiss on her breastbone. “I missed you too.” The words wer
e rough with emotion, honesty. He raised his head, pinned her with a look. “But?”
“But…” She reached instinctively for the warmth of his skin, placing a hand on his chest. “King, I can’t give you a future.”
“You think having children is the only future I could be interested in?” Hurt lingered in the words, as if she were accusing him of being shallow for wanting his own children.
“No.” Honesty had her hesitating. “Yes.” But biological children weren’t any more precious than the hundreds of children out there that needed a loving home. “I don’t know.” There were too many conflicting emotions, and they felt almost as fresh as they had ten years ago. “I wanted to tell you what happened back then. It was your child as much as mine; you had a right to know.”
King’s hand circled her wrist, almost as if he needed the connection of touching her as much as she did him.
“It was selfish of me, maybe, not to come to you. I told myself there was nothing you could do, why put you through the torture of loss. I always imagined”—her throat closed, choking off the words, and she took a moment to clear it—“imagined you meeting someone out there, getting married, having babies.” She had to squeeze her eyes closed against the images, then forced herself to meet his again. “But you never did. You still could, King. Have a family, kids.”
Anyone else might think she was presuming too much, believing he would want to stay with her, commit to her now that they’d slept together again. But she knew King. Time had passed, but beneath the tougher facade, he hadn’t changed, not that part of him. They’d both known what last night meant when they’d done it.
If he was going to walk away, it had to be now. Which meant she had to lay it all out for him.
“You can’t have biological children, Charlotte,” he argued. “But that’s not your only option. Our only option. You might not carry children, but you better than anyone knows exactly how much that matters.”
Truth. She mourned the loss of carrying a child, experiencing what that would be like, but that didn’t preclude being a mother. “I know that. But it’s not me who has to accept it overnight.”
King’s mouth tightened, his eyes narrowing. “Are you healthy?”
She frowned, not understanding.
“Are you healthy? Safe? A hysterectomy is major surgery, especially so young.” He glanced down her body. “All of your hormones would be affected. Your health. I want you no matter what, angel, but my heart wants to know you’re okay, for you.”
She reached up to smooth the hair falling over his forehead out of the way. “I am. It wasn’t easy to get everything on an even keel, but I’m okay.”
Leaning down until his broad shoulders blocked out the room, King stared deep into her eyes as if he could burrow all the way down to the furthest reaches of her soul. “That’s what’s important. I’ll keep saying it till you believe it, Charlotte—you are what matters to me. Every other possibility that might come with it is just gravy.” He shrugged. “And you know how much of a gravy man I am.”
She did. He was the only person she knew who refused Ruth’s sausage gravy and biscuits. He’d always preferred honey butter.
Hope sparked, spreading like warm fire through her chest.
But King wasn’t finished. The hand holding hers moved to her chin, his thumb tracing the fullness of her bottom lip as he watched intently. “I know I made mistakes, a lot of them. I should never have made you feel as if you had to choose between me and your family.”
She tried to interrupt, but his thumb stopped her.
“You need to know,” he said, “that a day hasn’t gone by in the past ten years that I haven’t wished you were by my side. Yes, I made the right choice between a career and a calling. I was meant to do what I do. But you?” He moved closer, his rough cheek coming to rest against hers as he whispered in her ear. “You are my only regret, angel.”
Her heart broke at the pain in his words. She turned her head, and her lips met his, opening immediately to allow him in. His tongue answered the call, pushing inside, tasting her, tempting her to taste him. The pieces of her, past and present, drew closer to each other, melding into one body. Once broken but healing. Growing stronger. Wasn’t that what they said about breaks—once mended, it just made you stronger. Maybe it was true, because with King against her, over her, inside her, she suddenly felt like she could face the loss she’d borne for so long alone.
A groan escaped King as he cupped her breast, his thumb and finger teasing the taut tip begging for his attention. A wild surge of need struck deep in her belly. She let it drive her as she pushed King to his back, rolling with him until she straddled his hips, her breasts dangling in front of his face. A rough rumble left him at the sight, the feel of her wet slit meeting his rigid erection. She planted her knees on the towel, fallen to his sides, and arched. The slick glide of her body down his shaft, all the way to the base, then up to the tip, had them both moaning.
The next few minutes were a jumble of hungry sucking, shifting, groaning, until they joined like a lock and key, sealing much more than their bodies together. King feasted on her breasts as she rode him hard, reveling in the drive of his rigid cock inside her, pushing them together toward climax. They chased the pinnacle with every glide, every thrust. When King slipped a hand between them and pressed the sensitive nub of her clit, she went over the edge, taking him with her.
They were still panting, sweaty and sated, when a knock came at the door.
Charlotte whined. “If we ignore them, will they leave?”
King’s chuckle was strained. “Given the situation, no way in hell, unfortunately.”
Another knock. King kissed her, hard and quick, and rolled from the bed. “You’ll have to answer it.”
She watched him stride into the bathroom, envious of his escape. Whoever was on the other side of that door must know he was here. His team would have guessed when he didn’t return from her room. Heck, he might’ve let someone know where he was going—not that he’d intended to stay, but it didn’t take a genius to read the tension between them, just eyes.
A third knock came, and this time the short raps told her it would be the last before the door opened. Snatching King’s discarded towel off the bed, she gave her body a hasty swipe, praying whoever was in the hall couldn’t smell sex all over her. Futile, but she couldn’t help her embarrassment. Her robe whispered against her skin as she pulled it on and strode across the room.
Remembering to give her hair a hasty finger comb, she steeled herself and opened the door. “Yes?”
Elliot stood on the other side, her fatigues fresh and smile smug. “Good morning, Charlotte.”
Charlotte gripped the lapels of her robe together. “Morning.”
Weak response, but she had a feeling it didn’t matter. Elliot knew everything.
She thought back over the past few hours. Okay, maybe not everything. A flush swept up her neck and her cheeks got hot.
Elliot snickered. “Don’t worry, I won’t tease you. King, on the other hand…” A smirk. “I’ve managed to keep the rest of the team in the dark, but your mother is gathering breakfast and will be here anytime now, not to mention our staff meeting is about to start. He’s got to move his ass.”
She opened her mouth, unsure how to respond—thank you, maybe?—but a sound from behind her saved them both the embarrassment. King strode across the room, his clothes from last night perfectly in place, though she couldn’t figure out why there were no wrinkles.
Because they wouldn’t dare wrinkle and make him look bad?
If anyone had that power over inanimate objects, it would be King. He was actually grinning as he neared them, as if he could read her mind. Or Elliot’s. Whichever it was, he didn’t seem overly concerned as he bent to kiss her in full view of his teammate.
Not a quick kiss, either. He took his time and did it thoroughly.
Oh man. Her knees wobbled.
King raised his head. After she steadied, he swip
ed his thumb across her lips. “See you downstairs, angel.” Then to Elliot, “You too, Otter.”
They both stared as he strode down the hall. “Otter?” Charlotte croaked, unable to get anything else out.
“Call sign,” Elliot said. She fanned herself playfully. “I always knew the ice man had depth, but fuckin’ A, I had no idea he was hiding that much heat.”
Charlotte’s blush burned brighter as she stepped back to allow Elliot inside. “You have no idea.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
King knew the minute he walked into the dining-room office that Dain wasn’t happy. It didn’t surprise him. Nor did it worry him, not anymore—even if he was pulled off the case by JCL, Charlotte would demand he stay, officially or unofficially. That didn’t mean Dain wouldn’t chew his ass out first.
“Morning.”
Saint started to return King’s greeting.
“Saint, give us a minute,” Dain said without looking up from the reports in his hand.
Ouch. “Dain—”
That got his team lead looking up, but King quickly wished he hadn’t. Dain’s eyes blazed.
Worse than he’d thought. The least Elliot could’ve done was warn him. For a second his gut clenched and he wished he could erase that look from Dain’s face—not just anger, but betrayal. He’d compromised the team’s position on this op, he knew that.
Was Charlotte worth it? Every last bit.
Saint rounded the table, sympathy in the curve of his mouth as he gave King’s shoulder a brotherly slap on the way past. His best friend would always have his back. That didn’t mean he’d taken the best route. He should’ve warned Dain last night.
He should’ve done a lot of things last night. The only thing he’d cared about was being with Charlotte, making sure she was safe, making sure he was as close to her as he could possibly get. That wouldn’t appease his boss, but it was the truth.
“At this rate I’ll be running out of team members to take over as second in command,” Dain bit out. King had taken over for Elliot when she’d been given a six-month demotion. He guessed he was next in line for that honor. “What do you think Saint’s offense will be? It’s only a matter of time, right?”
Deny Me (Southern Nights Enigma Book 4) Page 15
