Page 86 of The Rebel King

“I want you to watch something with me.” I turn, slotting my hips between his legs as he sits on the arm of the couch, pressing my shoulders into the chiseled warmth of his chest. I search on his phone’s browser until I find the video, slide the progress bar, and press play.

“Someone, the person who killed my brother, thinks we should be afraid.” Maxim says on the video, pain and passion etched onto his striking features. “I’m not afraid. Don’t you be afraid either. You know what scares me? Cynicism. Apathy. Anything that convinces people to settle, to quit. The thought that people will give up on changing this world because of one person’s cruel cowardice makes my blood run cold. I would have given up on the system, the way things work, long ago had it not been for Owen. He renewed my faith in the process by which we change things in this country.”

“Jesus, Nix.” Maxim grabs the phone and presses the arrow to stop the video. He holds me from behind, his chin tucked into the curve of my neck. “I can’t watch that.”

I fold my hands over his, holding the phone against my stomach, and wait for him to elaborate.

“That was the hardest day of my life,” he continues quietly. “I believe those words. When I hear that, I want to do everything that guy on the video tells me I should.”

I turn my head, angling so I can look up at him over my shoulder. “But?”

“But then I imagine having to say those words for you.” Hisbreaths come short and ragged in my hair. “Do you think I’ll care if this country goes to hell if you’re gone?”

“Oh, Doc.” I turn and look up at him, moved by the intensity of his eyes on my face. They’re starved. They consume. Has a man ever looked at a woman the way Maxim looks at me? “I’ve got my own throwback for you.”

The uncompromising line of his mouth gentles. “Yeah? What?”

“You once told me it’s the dreamers who change the world the most—that something about the present wasn’t good enough, so they made the future.”

He grimaces and drops his head back, studying the ceiling.

“Hell, Nix,” he groans, snapping his gaze back to mine. “You’d accept the security?”

“I told you I would. Every bit of it. Mall cops, K-9 units, special ops, whatever.”

“So this was all it took to get you compliant, huh?” he asks, a slow smile softening the hard planes of his face.

“We’ll see who’s compliant when we get out on the campaign trail.” I laugh, reaching around to lightly slap his butt. “And I’m running that ass. You might be the candidate, but I’m the boss.”

“IfI decide to do this, that’s one thing I could look forward to.” He slides his hands down to cup my bottom. “Screwing my campaign manager.”

“Yeah, about that.” I bite my lip and squeeze my eyes shut because this point alone could undo all the progress we just made. “I don’t fuck my candidates.”

He throws his head back, his laughter rich all around me. “Okay, if I run, we’ll see how long that lasts.”

“I’m serious.” I let it sink in and watch the humor drain from his expression.

“You’re saying if I run, we can’t be together?”

“I’m saying the same issue I had when Owen was running would be evenmoreof an issue if youarethe actual candidate.”

He runs his hands down my arms and links our fingers, bending to whisper in my ear, brushing the words over my earlobe. “If I’m your candidate, you think you’d be able tonotfuck me?”

I lick my lips and pull a few inches back to look him in the eyes. “Ineverfuck my candidates.”

His eyes go hot when I deliberately use one of his least-favorite words. He stands from the arm of the chair, flips our positions, and hoists me to sit there. He pushes the panels of my wrap-around dress apart. Carefully, not breaking eye contact with me, he nudges my legs open.

“I think you might make an exception for me,” he says, his hand disappearing under the fabric, two fingers sinking into the hot, intimate wetness between my legs. My breath whooshes out, and I want to sit still, unmoved, but his thumb caresses my clit while his middle and index finger fuck me. It only takes seconds for my hips to start churning. He twines my hair around his hand, his fingers working in and out of me, and holds me still for a ravaging kiss, his mouth devouring mine, eating my whimpers and moans.

He pulls back, the forest green of his eyes swallowed by midnight at the centers. “Ask me to fuck you, Nix.”

I steel myself against the overwhelming appeal of his body and his desire for me. His cock is hard and ready against my thigh. “No.”

The right side of his full mouth tips up into a “so it’s like that” grin, and he sinks to his knees, presses my legs wider, pushes the dress up, and pulls my panties down and off. He grabs my ass with both hands and presses his face into my pussy, sucking my clit hard.

“Oh, God.” My fingers claw into his hair, and I try to press his mouth harder into me. He resists, flicking a long-lashed stare up at me, his dark hair disrupted by my fingers.

“Ask me to fuck you.”

---