Page 99 of The KING Review

God, I want to fix it for him. I want to beat the shit out of the entire world until it stops hurting him like this. I sit beside him, knees tucked under, my hand finding his thigh. I squeeze, gentle, even if I want to squeeze harder. I want to believe I can squeeze the sadness out.

“Baby…” My voice is a hush, and I swallow hard. “Am I making this harder for you?”

He just stares, like I’ve spoken in an alien dialect. The pause is cosmic. In that second, I realize nobody has ever asked him that before. Not just about this, but about anything. All this time, he’s had to manage everything on his own. He’s had to be the steel wall, the logistics guy, the emotional bomb squad. Nobody’s ever looked at Grant King and said, “Hey, is there something I can do to make it easier on you?”

His eyes go glassy, just for a blink. Then he exhales and reaches for me. His arm slides around my waist, hauling me into his lap.

I squeak, caught off guard, and wind up straddling him, my skirt riding high up my thighs. “I’m not really dressed for this.”

He huffs a rough laugh, and I feel his cock thickening in his jeans as he tilts his hips up. “Maybe it’s the perfect skirt for this, baby girl.”

He leans his forehead to mine, holding me close, and we share quiet breaths—nothing more, nothing less.

He smells like rain and his aftershave, a mix of the world outside and the secret, warm core of a man who doesn’t hide how much he wants to be held. It’s one of my favorite things about him—after stripping away all that self-doubt, Grant says what he means, and he means what he says. There are no games, except the ones we both choose to play.

I breathe him in, every molecule, and don’t move.

His hands slide to my ass, palms hot and steady, and his mouth finds my temple. I shiver.

He exhales, nose brushing my hairline. “You’re not making anything harder,” he murmurs. “Except maybe my self-control.”

My heart does a full somersault. I try to hide my smile in his neck, but it’s pointless, because he can feel the way my body reacts. I find his jaw with my mouth, then tip his chin up and steal a kiss. “Self-control is overrated.”

I grin, rolling my hips, just a little, just enough to remind both of us that we’re not exactly built for middle distance—if there’s a feeling to have, I want to have all of it.

His hands slide up and down my back, proprietary. He shakes his head, just enough to make the silver at his temples flash. “The thing with Marie,” he whispers, “It’s not about you. I know you know that, but I just wish you didn’t have to be in the middle of it. I hate that you are. You deserve better, Neve. I’m trying to make it easier. For Sera, for myself, and…” The pause is a little earthquake. “For us.”

Something seismic rocks my chest.

I run my hands up his sides, fingers tracing over the soft swell of his hips. I love the way his body yields under my palm, the heat of him, how real he is. I press my hands there, gentle, just mapping the landscape of him because it’s a privilege to know it.

He closes his eyes and melts into my touch.

“I don’t want to make things worse for you,” I whisper. “I don’t want to be a problem you have to solve. I just want to be your—” I choke on the words. “I want to be your person.”

He blinks, then grabs my jaw and kisses me so hard I nearly slide right off his lap.

It’s not a polite kiss. It’s not the kind of kiss that says maybe or later or I’ll think about it. It’s the kind of kiss that says yes, you are my person, and I want you. No hesitation, no brakes, just a raw need that hits me in the chest like a wrecking ball.

I whimper against his mouth, then pull back, forehead pressing to his. My pulse is a drumline in my throat.

“You are my person,” he says. “I want that. I want you.”

My heart seizes, and I tip my chin, searching his face. “Is that what this is?”

He blinks, confusion flickering. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we haven’t really talked about it, you know? What this is. I just want you to know, in case I haven’t been clear—I want you. Not just for the sex, though, obviously, yes, the sex is amazing, and you’re amazing, but I want you for real. Like, the real thing. I know people think I don’t know what I want, or that I’m impulsive, or flighty, or whatever, but I just want to make sure we’re on the same page, because I literally want all of you, and if that’s not what you want, then…”

His hand clamps at my hip, like he’s physically anchoring me. “Stop,” he says quickly. “I don’t think that about you, Neve. You should know that.”

I do know it, as soon as he says it. I believe him so instantly that my chest nearly bursts from it.

“I feel the same,” he says. “Okay? Yeah, maybe it’s fast. It’s impulsive as hell, definitely. But I don’t think that makes it bad or wrong. The same way I don’t think the age gap makes it bad or wrong, or the fact that you’re my student, or that I have a kid. None of those are dealbreakers for me, if they’re not for you. I want to be with you. All the way.”

He kisses me, and a giggle bursts out of me. “So does that make you my boyfriend?”

Grant’s laugh rumbles through me. “I think I might be too old to be your boyfriend, baby girl.”