Page 76 of Kneel with the King
“Yeah? Then when’s the last time you took a vacation?” I open my mouth to retort, but he holds a hand up. “Arealvacation.”
“Oh, so this is all for my mental well-being?” I ask, my voice loud as it echoes against the trees. “How verykindof you,” I seethe, baring my teeth as I step into his space.
Something shadows behind King’s eyes, and he takes a step away from me. The show of submission makes me falter, and I feel like I’m in a fucking free fall.
“Don’t do that,” I hiss, blinking hard against the sunlight. “Don’t you dare step away from me and act like the victim right now.”
King straightens, but he doesn’t close the distance again. His face is unreadable, like he’s blocking the emotions off as much as he can.
“I’m not the victim,” he says evenly. “But you did turn me into a villain.”
I narrow my eyes. “Are you insinuating you’re not? You could sprout a curly mustache and attempt to chip my head off, and it wouldn’t surprise me.” I take a step closer, and this time he doesn’t back away. “Because to me, you’re sure acting like a villain.”
He laughs, and his face relaxes. My fists curl at my sides as he runs a hand over his mouth.
“I think you made me into a villain so you wouldn’t have to admit you like me. So you wouldn’t have to admit that maybe… you like being wanted. You forget that I know you’re attracted to me. There’s no denying the chemistry, not after what happened ten years ago.”
My jaw hardens. “You don’t get to tell me what I like. You don’t get to act as though youknowme.”
“But I do know you,” he says quietly. “I knew you back then, and I know you now. I’ve been watching you for a long time. I lied before—I do follow your personal life. I know all about Ari and Maddox. I know all about how much you hate yoga and meditation, how you work sixteen-hour days on the regular. I know your favorite coffee order and that cantaloupe makes your throat itchy. I know you don’t date women seriously because then you’d have to admit you’re not always attracted to them. At first, I told myself I was just keeping tabs on you.” He grimaces, and something akin to sadness washes over his features. “I becameobsessedwith getting revenge. So obsessed that I somehow forgot why I started it in the first place.”
His voice is soft now. Frayed at the edges. And I hate how that cuts through me—how sincerity, from him, still finds purchase under my skin.
“I told myself it was business. That it didn’t mean anything. But it did. It always did.”
I blink, hard. “Then why the fuck did you go through with it?”
“Because I didn’t know how to stop,” he says. “Because hating you was easier than wanting you, knowing you always intended to forget me.”
For a second, the wind picks up, rustling the branches above us. I can hear my own heartbeat thudding hard in my ears. I hatethat my chest is tight for reasons that have nothing to do with anger and everything to do withache.
“I needed to win,” King adds. “I needed to prove I could take something from you. That I wasn’t the only one still holding on.”
“And did you?” I ask bitterly. “Do you feel better now?”
He looks at me like I’ve just asked the wrong question entirely. “No,” he says. “I feel like shit.”
The honesty in his voice floors me. But it’s too late, isn’t it? The deal is done.
“You could’ve had me,” I say, voice low. “Without all of this. You could’ve just… asked.” His mouth twitches like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. “Drinks. Dinner. Make it a business meeting—shit, I don’t know. I always wondered what happened to Ambrose from the bar. I always wondered what happened to you. Maybe we could’ve been friends.”
“Friends?” he asks, arching a brow.
I huff a laugh. “Yeah, it sounds silly now.”
“Especially considering you had my cock in your mouth yesterday.”
“God, you’re such a smug bastard. It’s like you think screwing me and screwing me over are part of the same strategy.”
He doesn’t flinch. That same darkness, the stuttering uncertainty behind his eyes returns, and I know whatever he’s about to say is going to ruin me.
“I think I’ve wanted you since the second I saw you ten years ago,” he says, voice raw. “And yeah, maybe I came back into your life planning to ruin you. Maybe I wanted you to hurt the way I did. But underneath all of that, I was still waiting. Waiting for you to see me. Waiting for you to want me back.”
That stops me cold, and I hate him for it, hate that his voice can still knock the wind out of me, even now. Even afterall of this.
“I did want you,” I say, voice breaking slightly. “Idowant you. And that’s the worst part. Because no matter how hard I try, I can’t fucking separate you from the part of me that still thinks you’re only trying to fuck me over.”
He steps forward now, slow, deliberate. “Why can’t it be both?”
