Page 49 of Tempting the King

So many hurdles but apparently none of them could have stopped this freight train.

But, it does make me think of the reason he walked into my office that first day.

“You need me to sign off on you going back to the team,” I say. It’s not a question.

King cocks his brow on a shrug. “Big game in two days, firecracker. Our last chance to get to the playoffs.” His fingers twirl my hair around and around.

I pause. “Do you think you’re ready?”

“You’re the therapist,” he says like it doesn’t matter, drumming his fingers on the flat plane of his chest. “You tell me.”

“I wouldn’t sign off if I didn’t think you were.”

I have crossed a hundred ethical lines, but I’m not a liar. I wouldn’t sign off if I thought he was really a danger to others.

He’s ready.

And, selfishly, I want to see him play.

And win.

“From what I’ve seen,” I tell him, “you’ve turned a corner.”

“I’ll turn every corner if I get to have you, baby.”

“You’ll need to keep seeing me if the league requires it. We need to keep things between us a secret.”

“I’ll be coming to your sessions for the rest of my life. But keeping us a secret, that’s not gonna work,” he says, turning serious, his hand trailing down my bare stomach, down between my legs, making me gasp when his fingers wiggle against my overworked clitoris.

I squirm, stifling a yelp. “Real sessions,” I tell him. “Let’s see what the league says.”

“I love you. I want the world to know. We will figure it out.”

I blink at him, my mouth opening and closing, puzzling out how to keep him doing the thing he loves, while keeping me doing what I’ve worked so hard for.

One seems to cancel out the other, but the look in his eyes tells me, I need to trust him. Let him take control of this conundrum, and let go.

“I love you, too,” I say, as his lips crush onto mine.

As his magic fingers and mouth send me flying again, there’s the landing.

When I reach the ground, guilt slinks through me.

I haven’t heard much from Benjamin. I should call. I should check on him.

I’m sure he was overreacting when he said they would kill him. Right?

For once, I let go of what might happen and lean into what is happening.

It’s for me, this time. It’s time my brother grew up.

“So, you agree?” I smile into the phone listening to Milton and the soft singing coming from the bathroom.

King said he’d grab a shower, so I could speak to Milton in peace, but I don’t think peace is the kind of word usually associated with King Hertzof.

“I agree,” Milton confirms. “There’s been a change. The league will go along with our recommendations and lift the suspension. If he agrees to continue with both of us through the end of the season.”

“He’s already agreed,” I tell him.

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