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I didn’t even know he’d gotten home.
“Upstairs,” he demands.
“You made me spill––”
King snaps his fingers. That same stupid snap he did the other night, and I hate it. Even as I feel it in my core.
“But––” I’m breathing heavy.
When did I start breathing heavy?
King circles the island to where I’m standing, yanks the glass from my hand, slamming it on the counter so forcefully, I’m surprised it doesn’t break. “I said upstairs,” he growls, but doesn’t even give me time to move on my own, he just grabs my arm and starts to pull me through the house.
I can’t tell if he’s angry, or what’s going on, but he’s being intense as hell and I don’t know why.
“I didn’t do anything!” I try to tug my arm away, but instead of letting go, he chuckles darkly.
“Oh, I know you didn’t, Little Wife.”
My mind spins as he drags me up the stairs.
“King, what’s wrong?”
His fingers flex when I say his name but he doesn’t answer, just drags me all the way to our room.
I cross the threshold before him and he kicks the door shut behind us, finally releasing my arm. “Take off your clothes.”
I whirl around. “What is going on?”
King’s jaw flexes as he steps forward, grips my buttoned-up flannel, and rips the front open.
“Hey!” I shout, but he ignores my struggle to push him away and shoves the shirt off my shoulders.
When he reaches for my tank top, I grab it first.
I don’t know what the hell has him so riled up, but I don’t want him to rip this too.
My face is hidden behind my tank top as I pull it over my head, when King starts yanking my leggings and underwear off.
“Step out,” he snaps the command.
“Fine, geez.” I brace myself on his shoulders as he crouches before me as I lift one foot at a time.
Tossing them aside, King stands in front of me, fully dressed, chest heaving, looking like a hungry predator.
“What…” I don’t even know what to ask him.
But King doesn’t seem interested in talking.
Placing his big palm against the center of my chest, he makes me walk backward, until the back of my legs hit the end of the bed.
Trapped between him and the mattress, I have no choice but to sit when he presses his hand into me more firmly.
King lifts a knee and pushes it between my own, spreading my thighs until they’re framing both of his. His eyes are on fire as they look down at me, and I don’t think he’s mad. But he’s definitelysomething.
But he doesn’t make any more moves to touch me. He just stands there, staring down at my nakedness––and, god help me––he starts to roll up his sleeves.
“King…”
