Page 76 of Exposed

He gives my hair a tug. “Oh. That’s all? I thought you wanted to know about Trippy.”

“King…” I have no idea what to say. “I think anyone who raised you to not be a cheater is amazing. I hope Trippy lives a long, happy life.”

“Trippy is the youngest eighty-five-year-old you’ll ever meet. She’s living her best life in a retirement community. If you call it assisted living, it’ll piss her off.”

I shake my head. “I’d never.”

“Our parents…” He lets that thought fade off into nothing leaving me wanting everything from King Jennings, but I don’t dare probe. “Laken only knows Trippy and Don. Don was our mother’s uncle—he died almost ten years ago. I’m not quite sure what happened to our family after his generation, but let’s just say they strayed. At least that’s how Trippy and Don explained it when we were old enough to understand. Laken and I were removed from our home by child protective services when I was four. Lake was one.”

I set my wine on the coffee table and turn fully to him. No one likes being right about stuff like this. I scoot closer on the sofa and take his hand in mine. “I’m sorry I asked.”

He shrugs. “Don’t be. I had four shit years but after that it was great. I can’t complain. I have no clue who my birth father is, or Lake’s for that matter. We do know they’re different. Our mom was in and out of prison for years. Lake and I were lucky that Don and Trippy stepped up to raise two young kids when they did. They never had kids of their own and didn’t know us, but they wereawesome. Lake doesn’t know anything other than them, and I went from a shit birthmother to parents who weretheshit. There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

His sister’s words about him being a workaholic with commitment issues ring through my head. But then again, there are a million reasons why people have commitment issues. Mine are because of my father but for much different reasons.

“I take it that’s not something you share often. Thank you. I don’t take that for granted. It means something to me.”

King tips his head as he studies me and twists my hand in his. He’s the one holding on now. “How are you alone?”

I shake my head. “I’m not alone.”

“You are in the sense you’ve made it this long in life without anyone scooping you up and keeping you forever.”

I narrow my eyes. “I haven’t even met Trippy, but she sounds like the kind of woman who would raise you to know that a woman chooses to be scooped up … or not.”

“Point taken, Marigold.” He takes another drink before setting his bottle next to my wine. “Then tell me how you’ve made it to the ripe age of thirty-four without allowing anyone the privilege of being yours.”

I tell him the truth. “No one has earned the spot—no one worth keeping, anyway. I have high standards.”

King’s warm hand wraps around the top of my bare thigh. “What would you say if I told you that there’s nothing more I want in this world than to know what those standards are? And that’s a big deal, because I want a lot of things.”

“That wouldn’t make it natural or organic. And love should always work on its own. Also, you have commitment issues,” I throw back, not able to let go of the thought. “You didn’t dispute that when your sister called you out.”

“So you can have high standards, but I have commitment issues? You’ve got to want to commit to have issues.”

For the second time in a matter of moments, King shocks me. “Very true.”

“Lake is in a shit marriage that she refuses to leave because of guilt and public perception. I’ll take high standards over that any day,” he bites. “Do you know the problem with high standards?”

This conversation is hitting close to home. Too close. “The list is long. At least that’s what I’ve been told more than once. So often, I’ve been convinced the problem is me.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t ever let anyone convince you that you deserve anything less. Never settle. I’ve known you a week and I know that the problem is not you. We have that in common. The longer you look, the higher the standards become.”

I tell him the truth. “It makes me question everything about myself.”

His eyes fall to my mouth.

I lick my lips.

His hot stare snaps back to mine, and his hands grasp my hips. I grip his thick biceps to hang on when he drags me over his lap.

I straddle his hips and his arms part—one angles up my back and the other hand lands on my bottom.

Both press in.

I do my best to quiet my gasp as I’m pressed to King everywhere.

My breasts are tight to his chest.

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