Page 93 of Reckless King

“I’ll survive,” I say.

She reaches for me, but I grasp her wrist lightly to stop her.

“This isn’t a quid pro quo thing, Violet.”

She peeks up at me through her wet lashes. “You made me come so many times, and you only came once.”

I chuckle. “If you think I didn’t get incredible pleasure out of making you come, then you’re seriously mistaken.”

“It’s not the same though, is it?”

“We have time.” I brush a wet strand of hair from her cheek. “I told you once you said yes to this, that was it. I intend to explore every inch of your body, and I’m more than willing to let you explore mine. But let’s not do it when you’re half asleep.”

She tilts her head, a little crease forming between her brows. “You’re not who I thought you were, Tate King.”

For once, I let my walls down, even if just a little. “That’s the way I’ve always wanted it.”

I turn off the water, step out, and grab one of the big fluffy white towels from the stack on a bench in the corner of the bathroom. I wrap it around her, pull her close, smile down at her. “Come on, butterfly.”

With the covers pulled back, I guide her onto the bed, and once she’s settled, I join her and roll so we’re facing one another.

She blinks sleepily at me, studying me from beneath heavy lids. “Why did you say that?”

“What?”

“That you’ve always wanted it that way.”

A hollow ache forms behind my ribs. It’s one I’ve ignored for so long I rarely notice it these days, yet there it is. “Not sure this is the best time to get into that.”

She traces patterns over my chest with her fingers. “I’d like to know.”

I let out a sigh. Not of frustration. More the kind that takes with it some of the weight that’s been pressing down on me for most of my life. Violet’s trusted me with all of her. She deserves the same from me. I curl my fingers around her waist. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to grow up a King?”

She takes it as the rhetorical question it is and doesn’t answer, only watches me with eyes full of compassion and encouragement.

“The name automatically brings power, wealth, respect. Except, that’s not who I am. Not really.”

A line forms between her brows. “What do you mean?”

I’ve never shared the full truth about this with anyone. It’s an open secret in my family—ignored by my mother, relentlessly alluded to by my father, and only ever subtly acknowledged by my brothers—but never,neverdiscussed. There are rumors in our social circle, but it’s never been publicly commented on either. No one would dare. But for the first time since I learned the reality of who I am—or rather who I’m not—I want to talk about it. I want to talk toherabout it.

“When I was seven, we were at a birthday party,” I start. “Some of the other boys were whispering behind my back. They’d started doing that more often that year. I didn’tunderstand what the whispers meant for a long time, because of course I was Cole and Roman’s brother. We lived together, played together, fought like brothers. But at this party, one of the boys said it to my face. Called me the bastard son. I’m guessing they were just copying what their parents gossiped about behind closed doors, because there was no way their parents would ever have said that to my face. Or to any of my family.”

The sleepiness dissipates from Violet’s eyes. “Why would they call you that?”

The smile I give her lacks any humor. “Because it’s true.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

VIOLET

Ilever myself up onto one arm so I can look down at his face. “What do you mean?”

He gives me a half smile, although there’s a tightness around his eyes that belies the relaxed act he’s going for. “My dad isn’t the man who fathered me.”

“Tate,” I breathe, understanding breaking over me. It makes sense. His brothers share most of their physical attributes, yet he looks so different. Still, I never would have assumed.

Wariness shadows his gaze, and his whole body tenses almost imperceptibly. Does he think I’ll judge him for it?

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