Page 56 of King of Pain

Luke and his nicknames…

I shrug. “I go back to New York. I’ve got two more years of med school.”

“New York,” he looks thoughtfully into the space over the couch. “I could be down with that.”

My brows lift. Is he talking about going back to the East Coast with me? Holy shit.

I push up on one elbow. “Are you serious?”

“Only if it’s cool with you. I’m not trying—” I cut him off by kissing him again. My arms are around his neck, my tongue in his mouth.

He lets me devour him as he pulls me up, lifting me in his arms. I finally pull back. “Where are we going?”

“Bed.”

“But… I got the sheets all wet.”

“We’ll have to share the dry side,” he gives me a wicked grin. “Looks like you’re sleeping on top of me.”

“You’re really going to come back to New York with me? What about your job? Aren’t your employers missing you?”

A shadow crosses his face. “It’s a family job. And I’ll get another. I’m kind of shit at it anyway.”

“Shit at construction?”

He doesn’t say anything as he settles me on his chest, wrapping his arms around me.

I sigh out my pleasure.

I’ve got the most gorgeous man underneath me who is everything I never dreamed I could have. Cool, bad-ass, sweet, straightforward.

He’s everything I never thought I could have.

I wrap my arms tighter around him, nuzzling my face into the crook of his neck.

“Do I get to meet your family before I go?”

“Arabella and Roman, absolutely. Leo too. Mason, though…” His arms tighten around me. “He’s as tough as they come. Only Charlotte can tame him, and sometimes not even she softens his sharp edges.”

“Mason Kincaid?” The name rings with a familiarity, but I’m tired. Satiated. And I find myself drifting off to sleep before I can put all the thoughts together.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Kate

I waketo the smell of fresh coffee and bacon.

Sitting up, my hip twinges but it’s a manageable pain. I stretch, and then get up. There is no laundry here, and I’m running out of underwear and shirts. There is no washer. There is an old-style ringer in the shed at the back of the property or we’re heading to a laundromat.

I should have picked some up while we were in Durango.

Instead, I grab one of Luke’s T-shirts and slide it over my head, pushing my arms through the sleeves.

It falls to my mid-thighs and stretching again, I walk out of the bedroom, into the tiny hall and into the bathroom.

“Hold up,” Luke calls from the kitchen. He appears, just as I’m sticking a toothbrush into my mouth.

He stands in the doorway, not saying a word until I spit out the toothpaste and rinse my mouth. “Everything all right?” I ask, pulling my sleep-tousled hair over one shoulder.

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