“Like that?”
“Yeah, you’re not going to like it. You will be pissed off,” I admit, burying my hand under his cut and past his t-shirt until I can stick it in the top of his jeans. When he doesn’t comment I keep going. “Did you tell any of the lovely, sweet ladies at The Fallen about me?”
“You know I haven’t, why?”
“I may have been having a panic attack before, and I went to the loo to pull myself together, and I wasn’t going to push my way in to see you or do anything to embarrass you but I never got the chance because some woman told me you said no visitors, including me. Although it was mostly me, apparently.”
King pulls to a stop, his mood dropping to near Alpha rage in a split second. And when he tips his head to one side, he’s not being sassy, he’s ready to kill someone. “What?”
Wrapping my hands around his face, I dump us in a cloud of scent, trying to soothe his beast. “Everyone at the hospital is stressed. Don’t worry about it. Once Joker is better, I’ll try to figure out if I remember what she looked like, but seriously maybe she thought I was someone else.”
“Not happy with what you’re saying, Tris.” He pulls his face out of my hands at the same time his phone goes off.
Digging it out of a pocket, he reads the message quickly before reading it out to me. “Doctor will be back, wants to talk to you.”
I lean up, giving him a kiss. “Go, do your thing. I’m fine. Plus, you know, I’ve got a shit tonne to do if you’re making me yours.”
“Like fucking what?” he barks.
“Wax my booty hole,” I’m going for humour because I’m funny as hell, and I also adore his smile.
It works. King leans down, kissing me until I have to push him away, or risk fainting. He looks half guilty when he speaks, “Not sure how long I’ll be.”
“I know. Want me to grab you anything? Actually, don’t worry about it. I got you.”
“Tristan,” he warns, “Don’t you dress me up like a fucking clown.”
“I was thinking nothing but tight grey sweatpants and a black Henley. I want to make you breakfast while you’re wearing nothing but sweatpants. Actually, we probably won’t eat, I’ll be staring at that cock of yours hanging down the side of your thick thighs. It’s one of my ultimate fantasies.” I fan my face because I’m already kind of getting off on seeing him exactly like that.
He laughs, leaning back down for another kiss, not as long this time but it’s a scorcher.
Chapter
Twenty-Five
TRISTAN
Iliterally drop my bags and Simona walks in the door. And like always I get a sensation of comfort being around her. It helps that she smells like cookies and cream.
“Are you okay?” She stays on her side of the room.
“Yeah.”
“I’m so glad, Tristan,” she smiles softly, “I might just dip into the shower real quick and freshen up.”
“Are you up for a glass of wine?”
“Who are you right now?” She laughs, moving into her room, talking at me through the door. “I grabbed a couple of options, hoping you were here.”
“All okay, Sim?”
Instead of answering, the shower goes off, and when I stick my head into her room, she’s shut the door to her bathroom. Something feels off, but before I can open the door, she goes and scares the absolute shit out of me. “Go. Leave me alone for a second. I need to think, and I can’t do that with your hovering.”
“Me hovering?” I gasp in fake shock.
She rolls her eyes, but still has her trademark gentleness gracing every part of her. “One glass of red wine, with ice, and ifyou throw some corn chips in the oven, I’ll…” Her words dry up as she suddenly looks lost.
“Go, Sim,” I urge softly. “Have a cry in the shower then come avoid talking about sad shit with me.”
