Page 99 of Starting Over

“I want to stay with you tonight.”

“You usually do when you come over in the middle of the night.”

He tilted his head to look up at me. His eyes pleaded with me.

“I want to be in your bed. I want to hold you while you sleep.”

“Ok,” I said softly, putting my feet on the floor. I couldn’t deny him. Denying him meant denying myself, and I wanted this. More than I wanted to admit.

I stood up and held my hand out to him. He grasped onto me, hefting himself up, and then pulled me close. His eyes fixed on my mouth. His hand cradled my cheek.

“I need you, Grace.”

My own hand lifted, clasping onto his wrist. I closed my eyes, as I leaned into his palm, trying to shut out the combination of joy and pain those four words filled me with. And then I felt it. His lips were a whisper against mine. I leaned into him, my body begging for more. But he pulled back.

I opened my eyes and searched his. They say the eyes are a window to the soul. What I saw wasn’t his soul. It was mine. Inhis eyes, I saw the reflection of everything I felt. Everything I wanted but couldn’t have.

I led him to my room. He sat on the end of my bed, and I went to kneel before him and help with his boots, but he stopped me.

“Get in the fucking bed, Grace,” he snapped, his eyes closed tight.

With a huskiness that vibrated through my veins he explained, “I’m sorry, baby. I don’t have the strength to see you on your knees in front of me without succumbing to the greedy bastard that I am.”

Quickly scrambling to the side of the bed, I climbed under the covers while he removed his boots. He stood, removing his cut and placing it on top of the dresser. I watched, mesmerized, as he reached behind his head and pulled his T-shirt off, revealing his back to me.

The Silver Shadows brand was tattooed across his back and shoulders. The front end and handlebars of a motorcycle inked in black, shaded in iridescent silver.

My eyes traveled down the rippling muscles to his ass, still encased in his jeans. Biting my lip, I did my best to prevent the groan that begged to escape from so deep inside of me that my insides cramped with the effort. When I failed, he looked over his shoulder at me and grinned like he was enjoying my agony.

Turning around to face me, he reached for the button on his jeans, and I lost my nerve. I turned my back on him and hunkered down into the blankets. Not wanting to see what I wasn’t allowed to have.

A moment later, the mattress dipped beneath his weight. The blankets lifted and his warm body settled behind mine. His heavy arm laid over my waist, his large hand covering my belly as he pulled me back tight against his chest.

“I’m sorry, baby. I wish things could be different.” He sighed into my hair.

Me too, I thought to myself, as a tear slid down my cheek. He didn’t expect a response, so I covered his hand with mine and closed my eyes. This could be my life, if it weren’t for my deadbeat father.

Morning came, and I woke up alone.

Just like every other time, King was gone before I woke up. If it weren’t for the lingering scent of his cologne on my pillow, I might believe I dreamed the whole night.

It was the first time he’d slept in my bed. It was also the last. Next time, I wouldn’t answer the door. Next time, I would be stronger.

Who are you kidding?

When it came to Kingston O’Rourke, I had no strength. I was as weak as a newborn. I talked a good game in front of everyone else. Letting our friends believe we hated each other. But when we were alone, he owned me.

Body, mind, and soul.

And I would always let him.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Maureen

Mayor Hoffman texted like she said she would and invited me to the book club in town. It was being held at The Bookstore. I had met Ryder, the owner, and his wife Ellie at the clubhouse, so I felt a little less awkward going somewhere new.

I didn’t feel like I was going in blind.

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