Page 94 of Reckless King

I want him to keep talking, to feel comfortable sharing his truth with me, but I don’t want to force him, so I don’t ask directly. I’ll let him work up to it. Instead, I brush my fingers along his jaw. “What happened with the boys?”

“I froze. I didn’t understand that term. Bastard,” he continues. “But by the way he sneered the word, I knew it was a bad thing. Roman and Cole overheard. Gave them all a few bruises.”

I stroke over his chest, hoping to imbue a sense of comfort, a little peace, as he talks. “Did your mom or dad ever say anything to you about it?”

He lets out a humorless laugh. “They ignored the issue, even more than they ignored me. Or each other. I imagine admitting it would mean they’d have to do something about it. And neither of them was interested in rocking that boat. Appearances were always more important to them than any hurt or confusion I might be feeling.”

“What about Cole and Roman? Did they know?”

He nods. “Even after that first fight, I didn’t understand what a bastard was. But when it happened a couple more times, it started to sink in that there was something different about me. Then I overheard Cole and Roman discussing it. Not in a bad way. Just speculating about who my father could be. They talked about it as if it were true. For a long time, I resented them. Yes, they’d stood up for me, but now there was a gap between us that wasn’t there before. And the two of them were on one side of it and I was on the other.”

“Although,” he sighs, surveying my face. “I’m starting to realize a lot of that was of my own doing. Because of my own insecurities. Growing up the way we did took a toll on all of us. I don’t think Dad wanted us to be close the way we were when we were young. At that point, Roman was in boarding school and had already started to close himself off. Something happened with Cole too, though we’ve never talked about that either. He changed, became more cynical. But I was so sensitive about what I’d learned, I saw them pulling away from me as a rejection, when really, they were dealing with the shit show that our family is in their own way. When Cole started high school, Mom and Dad sent him to the same boarding school they sent Roman. Dad decided I should be shipped off at the same time. But not to the same place. He said he wanted todiversifyour learning.”

The blood pumping in my veins is hot, feeding the already brewing hatred I have for Tate’s dad.

“After that, I really only saw Roman and Cole during school holidays. And by that stage, it was easier to believe I was on my own. I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what Dad wanted.”

Tears sting my eyes. Tate’s cockiness, his charm, his flirtatiousness, make complete sense in light of this new knowledge. He hid the hurt and loneliness with a devil-may-care attitude.

“I’m so sorry. For all of it.” I press my hand to his heart, savoring the strong, steady beat against my palm. “You shouldn’t have had to find out that way. Your parents should have talked to you. Your brothers should have talked to you. Your Dad should…” I shake my head. I don’t have the words for what Tate’s father should have done. Been a different man? A better man?

Tate shrugs, though it doesn’t come across as casually as he probably intended. “I came to terms with it. After a few more fights, it didn’t take too long for the boys who were taunting me to realize it was a bad idea to use that word around me. And I soon realized that the only thing most people care about is my last name and everything that comes with it.”

“Did you ever try to find your real father?” I ask.

He clears his throat and twirls a strand of my hair between his fingers, his eyes focused on where he’s touching me, not on mine. “That first night you stayed with Mark…”

Pain lances my chest at the memory that I wish I could wipe from my head.

He clasps my nape and holds my gaze, tension radiating from him again. “I got smashed out of my head that night because the private investigator I’d hired to find my biological father had emailed that morning to fill me in on what he’d found. My real father died in a car accident almost ten years ago.”

A rock forms in my gut and my throat aches, but before I can tell him again how sorry I am, he continues.

“It hit me hard, knowing I’d never get answers. Not from him, not from my parents. I’ll spend the rest of my life not knowing who my real father was. I know his name, but I’ll never know what he was like. What kind of man he was. What kind of man that makes me.”

This time I can’t stop the tears that fill my eyes. The memory of that first morning with Tate comes rushing back. Except this time, I watch the replay through a different lens. He’d gotten terrible news, and he’d spent the night drowning his sorrows in whatever way he could. And I’d sat there judging him for it.

I close the distance between us and press my lips to his, hoping he can sense my genuine remorse for my behavior. He immediately deepens the kiss, pulling me closer and letting his hands roam over me until we’re both breathless and panting.

When we finally break apart, he looks deep into my eyes. “I’m sorry that’s how we met. I’ll always regret?—”

I shake my head. “I’msorry. I shouldn’t have judged you. I shouldn’t have let it influence my opinion of you for so long.”

A muscle leaps in his jaw. “If I had to live with a memory of hearing you with another man, I wouldn’t handle it well.” He brushes a thumb over my lower lip. “I’d want to track him down and do grievous bodily harm to him.”

I press my mouth to his chest. I don’t know how to respond to that.

He pulls me until I’m draped over him, my bare pussy dangerously close to the erection I can feel pressing against my inner thighs. I’m sore—how could I not be when I haven’t had sex in well over a year?—but that doesn’t stop the slow wave of heat that rolls over me at the feel of him.

Tate strokes my hair back from my face. “Nothing compares to what we just did.”

My heart stalls. “You don’t have to say that. I know you?—”

He shakes his head. “You don’t know. I’ve never once experienced anything that even came close to what I felt with you tonight. Every encounter was about proving something to myself, to the world. It was easy gratification, validation that, bastard or not, I was wanted, even though I knew it wasn’t me as a person they wanted. I had no desire for a connection with any of them. I gave the minimum amount of myself every single time. I didn’t want to hold them. I didn’t want to breathe them in. I didn’t want to press myself so close they’d become part of me. And Ineverwanted them to stay.”

My lips are on his again, my hands stroking his skin. He wraps his arms around me, holding me tighter. I don’t care how sore I am, I need him. I roll my hips, causing the head of his cock to press against my entrance.

He tangles his hands in my hair, tilting my head back so our gazes clash. “You don’t have to, butterfly. I didn’t take it easy on you before. You must be sore.”

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