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The way he takes charge of the situation, dominant, milking every last ounce of pleasure from my body.
I love it.
Dampness pools between my thighs as I think about him. His rippling abs, the tightness in his jaw right before he comes.
Slipping out of bed, I throw on yesterday’s clothes and lace up my shoes. Judging by the height of the sun in the sky, I need to be getting home soon to get ready for my early-afternoon shift. But I can’t leave without saying goodbye.
I creep down the stairs, tiptoeing through the kitchen as quietly as possible. Why, I have no idea. King lives alone, so it’s not like I’m disturbing anyone. But the air’s so still, so silent, it doesn’t feel right to be loud in the space.
Grabbing my keys off the granite island, I head out the screen door, making my way to the barn. The temperature’s warmed up quite a bit from last night, the sun’s rays heating my bare arms and legs. Wind carries the neighing of horses across the yard, and I’m certain King’s out here.
I move through the gate and cross the dusty paddock, lighter on my feet than I’ve been in ages. Good sex will do that for a girl, I guess. Entering the barn, I blink once, twice, my eyes adjusting to the lower light.
King’s at the far end of the barn, fussing with the horses’ hay net.
“I thought you didn’t like to use the hay net.”
He lifts his head, peering at me from beneath the rim of his hat.
“I don’t, normally. But I’m going to be gone for a few days, and I’m not sure Beau’s gonna want to stay the night.”
My stomach sinks, hot panic flooding my system. Which is absolutely ridiculous, because we haven’t even said what we are, and I have no claim on him or his time.
Still, the words sting, a sharp blow to my already-tender heart.
I tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear, kick my toe against the dusty ground.
“Oh?”
The word comes out a question, my throat bone-dry, pulse fluttery with nerves.
“Yeah. Family business.”
I have no idea what that means or how I fit into the equation. I don’t, I suppose.
“Hey.”
He’s standing in front of me, the smell of fresh hay mingling with his spicy cologne. Reaching out, he lifts my chin with one finger, forcing me to meet his navy gaze.
“What’s wrong, Juliet?”
His eyes crinkle with concern, and the ache in my chest lessens a touch. At least he cares.
“Nothing.” I shrug, try to play it off. I don’t want him to think I’m a needy ball of anxiety, scared to be left alone.
“Bullshit. Talk to me.”
I swallow, willing my voice to come out this time. Preferably in something louder than a whisper.
Huffing out a quick exhale, I force myself to speak.
“I know I have no rights to you—we haven’t even said what we’re doing here ...” I wave my hand in the small pocket of air between us, careful not to make contact with King’s strong abdominal muscles.
“Do we have to put a name to it?” King frowns, and I can’t figure out his expression, whether he’s mad or not.
“I mean, not yet. But eventually, I suppose ...”
“Fine.” He reaches for my hand, gripping my fingers up to the knuckle, and stares deep into my eyes. “Juliet, will you be my girlfriend?”
