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That was yesterday—or early this morning. Since then, I’m surprised I can walk—albeit slowly, so as not to trigger the feeling of Kingsley inside me. I’ve been sorer than a warrior out of the battlefield, with bites, hickeys and handprints that should be enough to press charges for assault.
Though an assault is the last thing it felt like. That was pure claiming, intense and unbearably ruthless.
I had no chance to walk away unscathed, and it’s not only because of what he did. It’s the fact that I lost myself and took pleasure in every moment of it.
And I know that if I don’t stay away, there’s more of that to come. Next time, I probably won’t even be able to walk.
Next time? Why the hell are you thinking about the next time? That won’t be happening.
I massage my temple, trying to force myself back into the moment. “What do you mean?”
Nate raises a brow, which translates to, “I’m not the person you can bullshit,” then starts counting on one hand. “First, I find out you were assaulted, then I learn King is back to being Nicolo Luciano’s side bitch, and as if that’s not enough, you coincidentally are getting into bed with the mafia, too. I leave for one second and you switch sides to the underground world? I expected this from King, but not from you, Aspen.”
I sip a long drag of my coffee-tequila because I’m apparently too sober for this conversation. “It’s just business.”
“And life is just a simulation.” He stares, utterly unamused. “What’s going on?”
“I needed a favor, okay?”
“What type of favor?”
“The type you shouldn’t worry about.”
“If it concerns you, then it has all the conditions to make me worry. You’re my friend and my wife’s mother, Aspen. So if there’s anything I need to know, now is the time to say it.”
“It’s really nothing, Nate. I’ll take care of it and I promise that the firm will stay out of this.”
“How about Gwyneth? Will she be out of your business with the mafia, too? I thought you wanted a chance with her. Spoiler alert, this isn’t how to go about it.”
I fill my stomach with more alcohol. “I’d never hurt her.”
“Not you, but your new best friends might.”
“It won’t happen.” I sigh, massaging my other temple. “Just drop it, Nate. Some skeletons are better left in the closet.”
Nate knows I come from a rough childhood and lost my parents as a kid. He’s also aware that I was abused by my foster parents and eventually ran away. However, he doesn’t know the details and he certainly has no clue about who my father is.
I might’ve considered telling him under different circumstances, but now that he’s my daughter’s husband, it’s out of the question.
He’s protective to a fault when it comes to Gwyneth and this would just create unnecessary problems. He might become the one who actively distances me from her to shield her from my mess.
“Then riddle me this, Aspen. What does King have to do with your skeletons? Aside from the fact that you once conceived Gwyneth together, the only thing you share is a passionate mutual disregard.”
My chest clenches and I have to pause before I speak. What the hell? It’s only his name, why am I feeling like a preteen with a hormone-infused crush?
“He has nothing to do with me.” I sound so convincing that even I would believe myself if I were less sober.
“Let’s see.” He counts on his hand again. “He so coincidentally got back by Nicolo’s side at the same time you went to him. He now calls you by your given name that I genuinely thought he didn’t know. Oh, and he’s been so out of control that he fucked it all up with Gwyneth by showing his ugly side. So excuse me if I think there’s something more to this tale.”
Shit.
My hand starts to become unsteady, so I clutch the mug tighter.
Nate finding out about our sex session—or sessions—is nothing more than an unneeded complication.
Not if it’s over.
Keep telling yourself that.
