Page 20 of King's Claim
“King,” she begged.“Move.”
King moved with reverence, as if she might break, and yet with the force of a man who’d finally found something worth bleeding for.Every thrust, every kiss, every brush of his hand across her cheek screamed the same truth.She wasn’t a passing distraction.She was it.
Her cries filled the office, her body tightening around him, and he followed her over the edge, buried so deep inside her he didn’t know where he ended and she began.
King reduced them both to panting messes.His balls tightened against his body.Lena begged him to go faster and he complied, loving how they completed each other.At his next thrust, Lena gasped and King knew he found her sweet spot.He aimed for it over and over again until she crested, screaming out his name.
He wasn’t far behind.Several thrusts later, King climaxed.When it was over, the air was thick with heat and the scent of sweat and whiskey.King stayed braced over her, his forehead pressed to hers, his breath ragged.
Lena’s hand slid over his cheek, soft, tender.“You’re not what they say you are,” she whispered.
Her words gutted him.Because she was right, because with her, he wasn’t.He kissed her again, gentler this time, the kind of kiss that lingered long after the fire cooled.
When King finally pulled back, both of them shaken and raw, he knew nothing would ever be the same.
****
King woke to the faintgray light of dawn spilling through the blinds.His office smelled of whiskey, leather, and Lena.The weight of her still lingered on his body, every scar and muscle marked by the memory of her hands.
For one damn fragile, dangerous moment King let himself breathe it in.Lena.
She was curled against him, tangled in the rumpled blanket he’d dragged off the couch, her hair a wild halo across his chest.Innocent, soft, too young.Yet she’d taken every piece of him, scars and all, without flinching.
King stared at the ceiling, jaw clenched so tight it ached.What the hell had he done?
It had been reckless and stupid.He was the president of the Devil’s Crown, a man with blood on his hands and enemies at his door.Lena deserved peace, safety, a clean life untouched by the shadows that dogged him.Instead, he’d dragged her into his fire.
Worse, he’d wanted to.The truth twisted in his chest like barbed wire.Last night hadn’t been about lust.Not only that.It had been about something deeper, something he’d sworn he wasn’t capable of anymore.
Something that made him weak.Weak men got their people killed.
Careful not to wake her, King slid out from beneath her, pulling on his jeans.Every muscle protested, every nerve screaming to climb back next to her and hold her until the sun burned away the rest of the world.However, that wasn’t an option, especially for him.
He poured himself a drink, not caring if it was too early, and stood at the window, staring out at the empty lot.His reflection in the glass looked like a stranger.The hard-set mouth, the scar running jagged from temple to jaw, the cold eyes.
That was who King was.That was all he could be.
Behind him, the blanket shifted.A soft murmur.Then Lena’s voice, rough with sleep but still clear enough to gut him.“King?”
He turned.She was sitting up, clutching the blanket around her chest, blinking the sleep from her eyes.Even rumpled and bare, she looked like light he had no business touching.
“You’re up early,” she said softly, studying him.“Couldn’t sleep?”
King swallowed the knot in his throat, setting the glass down hard.“Didn’t need to.”
Something in his tone must’ve hit her, because her expression tightened.
“What’s wrong?”Lena asked.
King dragged a hand over his face.He needed to put distance between them, fast, before the look in her eyes stripped him down to nothing.
“Last night was a mistake.”His voice was low, flat, a blade meant to cut.
Lena froze.For a second, she just stared at him, as if she hadn’t heard right.“A mistake?”Lena demanded.
He forced himself to meet her gaze.“You don’t belong in this world.You don’t belong with me.What happened can’t happen again.”
Her lips parted, shock flickering into something sharper.Anger.
