Something had happened. When he came to me at night, it was always after a long day. But the sound of his voice said it was more. I opened the door slowly. Only enough for my face to peek through.
“Why? Why tonight?”
His hands rested on the door frame. I saw the moment he let himself be vulnerable, and I knew it was bad. I knew that whatever it was, I could never deny him.
“I found out today that my mother died.”
Swinging the door open, I grabbed his cut and pulled him inside, shutting out the world behind him. I didn’t care who was out there watching us. I didn’t care who would see my weakness where he was concerned.
I had talked with Indie earlier in the week, and she’d berated me for wanting to forgive him. It didn’t matter. I knew I would.
Once the door was closed, he pulled me in tight and buried his face in my neck. His hands reached down and grabbed my ass, lifting me.
My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively. It was where they wanted to be. They didn’t need my brain telling them where to go. Just like my arms that wrapped around his neck.
“What happened?”
“Sal fucking happened.”
I pulled back and looked at him. My eyes searched his, and what I saw broke my heart. We had talked at length about Sal and what it meant when he discovered his parents wereactually his grandparents. How he’d felt lost, like his whole life was a lie.
I understood to an extent. When I found out about Steele, it was different. I had never known anything about my father. So, when I found the picture, it was a revelation. A face to put with the mystery surrounding my life.
It made sense, given the visits from Freeway. I had known about the club my whole life. Even spent time there as a child. I just didn’t know who was responsible for my existence.
King had believed his parents were his. Believed the sheriff was his brother. Finding out his parents were his grandparents and his brother was really his uncle was devastating.
But learning it all as his actual father stood in the room with him, also learning he had a son, was traumatizing. I’d begged him to talk with Haizley. But he always said the same thing.
“I have everything I need.” Then he would hold me tighter against him before walking out the door in the morning while I slept.
“Talk to me.”
“Sal showed up at the clubhouse,” he began, setting me on the floor. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to the couch.
“Do you want coffee?”
“No, I just want you.” He pulled me onto his lap and wrapped his arms around me. I cradled his head against my chest and waited for him to continue.
“He brought a girl with him.”
My body stiffened. Jealousy swept over me immediately, and King tightened his hold, trying to reassure me. It didn’t work until he explained, “She’s Maureen’s daughter. My cousin.”
My body relaxed, and I felt him chuckle.
“Your jealousy makes me so fucking hard,” he said as he ground me against him.
I closed my eyes, unable to say anything. Trying to hold back the tears. He knew how I felt. I didn’t have to say the words. They were there every time he looked into my eyes.
My fingers massaged his scalp, encouraging him to continue.
King leaned back against the couch, pulling me with him. He looked up into my eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry for what I did. That wasn’t fair to you. But when he said he had you, I—”
“Wait, what? What are you talking about? Who had me?” I wiggled free of his hold and scooted back on the couch.
“Crispin Sinclair.”
“Who the fuck is Crispin Sinclair?”
