Page 200 of Claimed By a King

We’ve been at Nirvana for three days. Three days of uninterrupted us time.

Since we showed the place to Alana and Slasher, we’ve made a few changes to the cabin. Nothing big, as it was already perfect in its simplicity. But it needed a woman’s touch—my touch, which it now has in abundance.

That’s not strictly true. I haven’t stuffed the cabin with frills and useless ornaments, just enough to make it feel more homey. Like the picture of me and Leslie that we got back from the detectives once the case was finally completely shut. That picture now hangs in a gold frame above the couch.

All the floors are covered by carpets due to how cold it gets during winter, and we now have a fully functioning kitchen. Not that it wasn’t working before, but it’s nicer now. While I’m not big on cooking or domestic chores in general, I love it when we’re alone.

We’ve expanded the bedroom and bathroom, and by we, I mean Gray. Ever the control freak, he has slaved with his bare hands to make this the perfect getaway location for the two of us.

I squeal in surprise when something cold lands on my back. “What the fuck?”

Gray laughs, a carefree sound I’ve heard more and more often since the war with the Reapers ended. “It’s time to rub more lotion on your back.” I moan as his large hands begin to rub the lotion into my skin. “You know how serious I am about your health,” he says as he pays extra attention to my ass cheeks.

Since there’s no one else around for miles, I don’t bother with a bikini here, so I’m already completely naked.

“I don’t think I’m going to get sunburnedthere,” I grin when his finger slides into the crevice of my ass.

“Now you definitely won’t,” he rasps.

My eyes flutter closed. I part my legs more and lift my hips to make room for his hand as he slides it underneath me and to my front, parting my folds.

“Already so fucking wet for me,” he says approvingly. “Were you dreaming about me?”

I don’t mean to stroke his ego by telling him the truth, but when he slides two fingers into my cunt, there’s no playing it cool. “Always,” I moan.

He groans his approval while working his fingers into me with quick pumps. My stomach tightens, and I’m right on the precipice when he suddenly removes his fingers and asks, “Do you ever regret it?”

“Regret what?” I snap, annoyed he stopped me from coming.

“Not going to Harvard,” he clarifies.

I’m getting fucking whiplash from the change in his mood. Instead of being playful, he’s now wistful.

“No,” I answer. “That was a plan from before I met you. From before I found my true calling.”

He nods. “But you’re not sure about us?”

My jaw becomes slack. “Where the hell is this coming from, Gray? We live together. We’re building a life together. Which part of that makes you think I’m unsure?”

When he looks away, I have my answer.

“Gray?”

There’s something about being here at Nirvana that transforms my hardened biker into a normal guy. One with insecurities and doubts just like everyone else. Though it’s not as sexy as his rough sides, it’s endearing and so fucking lovable. Seriously, those are the times I know we’re in this until the end. Because those are the sides of him that no one but me ever gets to see.

“Why haven’t you said yes?”

Ah, so that’s what this is about.

Shaking my head, I move my sunglasses up my forehead and look into his eyes. “You’ve never asked, Gray. You call me Mrs. Black and assume it’s a done deal. But I want you to get on your knees and—”

“Hey.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “I was on my knees for hours yesterday, eating you out.”

My cheeks burn at the memory.

“But you still didn’t ask,” I point out. “Eating me out and asking me to marry you isn’t the same thing. If you want my answer, you have to ask first.”

My hand moves to my ear, covering the tattoo with my answer if he ever asks. The answer isn’t for me, it’s for him. So he knows that I’m already irrevocably his in every way possible. All he has to do is ask.

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