Page 45 of King of Pain

I hear the soft sob, and I know she’s crying. I tighten my grip, crushing her against my chest, wanting to take the words back. Wanting to promise to drive her back to the city tomorrow. I want to promise her the world. Instead, I hold my tongue.

Because I owe Mason everything.

So instead, I just let her cry out her tears into my shoulder as they soak my skin. I run my hand over her hair, settling my hand over the small of her back. I’m going to hell.

I’ve heard everything she’s said about her mother. The string of men. I know what she’s trying to escape. The life she’s attempting to build for herself that will bury her past hurts deep.

We understand each other.

I don’t think I’ve felt that kind of connection with another person for a very long time.

I’ve been trying to escape myself too. The man who can barely read. The least valuable cog in the Kincaid wheel. Only, there is no easy way out of this.

And Kate… she’s not escaping herself either. A date with one bum, Vincent Vendetti, a ride with another—me—and her future is about to be crushed.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Kate

I wakeup to the bed moving, Luke climbing out. He’s still naked, but so am I for that matter.

Not that we’d done much more than fall asleep after we collapsed into bed. After I’d cried out every tear in my body.

My eyes are scratchy and I’m sure they’re red and puffy. I stretch sitting up. “You’re leaving already?”

“No, love. Bank doesn’t open until nine. I just can’t sleep.”

His words wake me up. Is something wrong? I hope not. I’ve never felt more connected to another person.

I let the blankets fall, skimming down my body and let them pool around my waist. “Want to go for a swim?”

His eyes trail down my naked body, heating with every second that passes. “You sure you want to do that? You were upset last night…”

I sigh as I push up onto my knees, giving a good stretch, arms over my head, as the blankets remain on the bed.

I watch his cock swell. How is it that we’ve been naked together for hours and it doesn’t feel weird?

His reaction only excites me, and I twist my hair up, my arms over my head, arching my back.

I was incredibly sad last night. But here’s the thing: the guy who held me while I cried, kissed my forehead and murmured words of encouragement, is currently staring at me like I’m the most desirable thing he’s ever seen.

Did I think Luke Kincaid might be a bum?

He’s a gem.

Gorgeous, charismatic, kind to strangers and children, protective of me. I want Luke inside me right now.

He steps up behind me, his hand coming to the hair I’m holding up with my fingers as he pulls my hands away.

My hair falls down like a curtain, streaming down my back. It’s long, reaching my midback, and he twists the strands around his hand like a rope, pulling it the slightest bit. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs into my exposed neck. “I’m a little feral this morning. And you had a rough night.”

“I want your feral.” I can already feel myself getting slick.

And it’s true. It’s like the nicer that Luke is, the dirtier I become. He pulls my hair harder, really tipping my head back even further.

I guess we’re not making it to the river.

I only wanted to go to soak my face and get rid of the puffiness.

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