Christ, but I want her with me.
I have lusted after this girl for months, but it’s not the lust that keeps me coming back. Somewhere in my gut I’ve always known that she was born for me. In some place, maybe long before I was born and long before I even killed, before my soul was dirty and broken, I was given this angel and I would bet everything I am on the fact that she was given to me so I could protect her. She was for me, and me for her. I’ve had no girlfriends in my life, not even an interest in any. Only fucks. Only whores. Only bar flings. Nothing that lasted over the few hours it took me to be done with them. As if a part of me knew and I was only biding my time for this one girl to look at me across the rain one day with those eyes—and that right then nothing else would matter even a fraction of what she matters.
It’s two minutes to nine and, though I like being exact, before I know it I’m grabbing my new phone and hitting her number. One ring, two, and she answers, breathless. My stomach rips open when I hear her voice.
“Hello?” she says.
“Don’t ever answer a call from an unknown number unless I warn you beforehand.”
I can hear the laughter in her voice, beneath the scowl, of course. “Then don’t call me from a strange number, you dick.”
I chuckle. “A change of device was in order.”
“Why? Don’t you have enough?”
I shut my eyes, relaxing my muscles for the first time in days. God, she’s special. Made specifically for me.
We’ve been raised differently but it doesn’t matter. She was taught to play games while I was taught to play with things.
And yet here we are. I’m obsessed with her and she sure as fuck isn’t too far behind. Now it’s up to me to take our relationship to the next level. It’s up to me to trust her enough and respect her enough to let her know that I’m not a normal man. Fuck. Me. Running.
You don’t really want to do that, King. You tell her the truth about you and it’ll be permanently OVER.
No. Hell, I won’t let it be over.
“So. Did you just call to hear me breathe?” she prods.
“No, that’s not all.” Last time I heard her voice, she cooked for me, and then she gave herself to me in a way she hasn’t been with another guy. She welcomed me home, ruffled my hair, smiled at me, wanted me, gave me stuff I never dreamed I wanted and I’m now fucking starved like a rabid dog for.
“You mad I haven’t called?” I ask huskily, dropping my voice in case I’m going to have to do some explaining.
“I hardly noticed!”
“So you are mad. Princess, I didn’t want to leave you, not like that.” I drop my voice as a shit ton of regret tightens my chest, and I stare out the dingy motel window and think of my new Seattle apartment. I want it bad. I want my bed with the thousand-dollar sheets and the million-dollar girl cuddled right beside me. “Baby, talk,” I hear myself plead.
“What for?”
“Just talk.” Exhaling, I press the receiver closer and cling to her voice. All the sunshine in it. The way it squeezes my heart, my gut, and my balls, all in one fell swoop. The way I need it to remind myself that what I did today was just a job. A role. An act. Not all of me. She’s the only one who gets to see all of me.
“I don’t know what to say,” she finally whispers. “I want to know why you left, how you are.” Her tone gentles in a way that sends all the yearning in me spiraling outward like a hurricane. I exhale through my nostrils, trying to keep the blood in my body out of my already straining cock.
“I had work to do, but I’m good now,” I explain. “Come on, princess, talk to me.”
“Okay then. I’m lying in bed in my panties and bra.”
My brain nearly explodes. Fuck me with that. My heart slams against my rib cage and my dick punches into my jeans. I instantly picture her: lying in bed, her hips hugged by those panties, eyes heavy lidded, and suddenly I’m in that bed, right with her, and I’m holding her braid to keep her still while I fuck her sweet, hot mouth with mine.
“Isn’t that why you called me? Aren’t you horny?” she asks when I don’t reply.
I throw my head back and roar with laughter. I’ve laughed more with her in months than I have on my own in years. “Princess, I’m horny with anything that has to do with you, but that’s not why I called.”
“Oh. Why then?”
I keep picturing her in that bed. Yeah. With me right next to her. “You wearing your braid yet?” I have to know. I still can’t figure out how she so easily grabs so many strands of hair and winds them all perfectly together, silken, gold and lovely when they fall in that braid against her slim white neck.
“Yes, I am.”
“You chewing your lip?”
She giggles softly. “Yes.”
I smile in wolfish delight. “I want to suck that lip, baby, but what I most want right now is to be there, kiss the shit out of you, and fuck you without a rubber. I’m going to get tested, so next time I fuck you, I’m not wearing one. Would you like that?”
“Yes, please. One Greyson without a rubber, and can you make that an express order?”
My chest floods with tenderness at how playful she is. “Yes, baby, I will, but I didn’t call to hear myself talk. I want to hear you. So talk to me, princess.”
“What about?”
“What else? About you, baby.”
“All right, so that girl who wanted my Mustang? She went up a thousand and I accepted.”
I groan and slam my palm to my forehead, then drag my hand roughly down my face. “Princess, I’m telling you . . . sell something else. Not your car. You need your car.”
“It’s all I have to sell, Grey.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes, I’m sure. My car is all I have to sell.”
“The necklace I gave you, that’s not sellable?” I bluntly come out and say it.
“No.”
“No? Why not?”