Page 51 of Lost Kingdom

“But you’re?—”

“A Malone,” he grumbles. “And being ashamed of where I come from doesn’t mean I’m free of my DNA. It’s a well-known fact Malones are…” He snags a bottle of champagne from an icy bucket on the counter, but forgoes the wineglasses, turning back in my direction instead. “We fuck to cope. I can hate it, but that doesn’t mean I can ignore it. So that’s how we get through. Stress. Worry. Anger. Whatever.” He comes to the bed and sits by my leg, then he removes the cork with a pop that makes me jump, smiling because my chest heaves. Up. Down. Searching for sense in nonsensical chaos. “I was introduced to sex when I was twelve years old.”

Horror burns through my veins. Tears scratching at the backs of my eyes. So I set the book aside and lean closer, resting my chin on his shoulder and wrapping my arms around his in a weird, almost awkward, and yet completely comforting hug. “That wasn’t sex. It was rape.”

“It felt good.” He brings the bottle up, sipping from the end. “Or at least, I was led to believe it did. Twelve, Aubree. And I didn’t stop after that. So no, when I’m feeling a certain way?—”

“Stressed,” I guess on a sigh. “Worried. Which is always.”

He offers the bottle and grins when I accept. “I’m always stressed. And you worry me to no end. But I’m also a grown ass adult who gets to make his own choices. So I stopped after Anne.”

“You stopped?”

“Searching for women to fuck.” He sets his fingers beneath the base of the bottle, tipping back until I take a hint and join him in our un-classy drinking session. “Anne was a means to an end. She was a woman I had no emotional connection to, which made her safe and easy. Until she wasn’t. But I saw the pain she caused you.”

“Broke my damn heart.” I take another swig of the sweet wine. Fuck her. Fuck them. Fuck the very idea of him and her in bed together. “Smashed it open.”

“I know.” He takes the bottle and sips. “All my efforts to save you were a waste, because I was hurting you. So I stopped. I’m a Malone raised with sex as a coping mechanism, but I’m done using that as a crutch. So I wake up every morning instead, and I wrap my hand around my cock. It’s not the same. But fuck,” he shakes his head. Though I swear, hidden behind his beard is a smile. “Thinking of you makes it good enough. I offload my stress, I get to be with you, even without you knowing it, and then I can get on with my day with a clear head. Someday, when we’reactuallytogether, we’ll fuck. And it’ll be like coming home for me. It’ll become my new addiction.”

“Tim—”

“But I’m still that grown ass man who can take care of himself. So it won’t become a chore for you. There won’t be pressure, and it won’t become an issue in our relationship, all because I was raised in toxicity and chaos.”

“You’re worried I’ll consider sex with you a chore?” I reach across and grab his beard. My new favorite way to force his eyes around and his attention onto me. “You think I’ll hate it?”

“No.” His lips curl higher. “I think you’ll fucking love it. I’ll make sure.But I worry I’ll want it more often than you do, since I clearly have all this unresolved bullshit bred into me. Now read.” He leans over me, crushing my legs with his chest, and snags the book with fire on the cover and a warrior brandishing a sword. “She’s fucking the enemy and told the football player goody two shoes to get lost, as she should.”

“Literally not what’s happening.” I settle back against the headboard and open the book to where we left off, then I slide my fingers into his hair and drag him down until his head is in my lap. His lips and nose settling wildly close to lace, and my mind, horrifyingly jumping to conclusions that undo all the work I did to move my pounding blood north again.

He could just…

And I would die.

But he’d make it feel good, I have no doubt.

And he’d enjoy it.

I would sleep a satisfied woman.

And he’d have new memories to pluck from tomorrow morning when he’s in the shower.

“You tell me when you’re ready.” He presses an intoxicating kiss to my thigh and peeks around to catch my eyes. “I can taste you in the air, Aubree. I canfeelyou. But I also know you’re scared. So you’re gonna need to use your words and tell me what you want, when you want it.”

“I don’t?—”

“I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life.” He turns and rests on one elbow, facing me. Then he peels my shirt up and exposes the lower portion of my belly, rolling skin because of my bad posture, and the waistband of my underwear folded over.Because I’m classy like that. But then he kisses my stomach and steals every self-destroying thought from my mind. “I’ve killed. I’ve tortured. I’ve broken the law, and I’ve been the villain in someone else’s story.” Another kiss. “I’ve been the villain inyourstory.” A third. “But I won’t be the guy who takes something before you’re ready. So first time, you need to say the words out loud. You need to ask me to fuck you, and then you need to actively participate. Look into my eyes when we’re together, so I know you’re not floating off somewhere else in your mind until it’s over.”

“You ask too much of me.”

He chokes out a laugh. “God forbid I ask you to pay attention to me when we’re in bed together.” He lowers to my lap once more. “She’s fucking the villain. Read.”

“He’s not the villain. She just thought he was for a while. But now he’s in love with her, and they’re gonna rule their kingdom together.”

“Hmm.” His beard tickles my thigh. But then he wraps his arm around my hips and presses a kiss to my lacey core. “Sounds about right.”

“What if I want to do things to you?”

Confused, his brows pinch tight while he puzzles out my words. Only to come up short and glance up to search my eyes. “What?”

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