Page 202 of King of Pain
Work awaits. Better get moving.
I roll to my side and let my eyes feast on the man beside me.
He’s still asleep, stretched out on his stomach. One arm is tucked under the pillow, the other draped lazily out to the side. His hair’s a tousled mess, mouth slack with the kind of peace I know only comes when he’s lying next to me.
My gaze drifts—
Down his broad shoulders
Over the curve of his back and to the small of it where his dove tattoo rests, curling just shy of wrapping around to his front.
Then lower.
The sheet’s slid halfway down his ass.
Jesus.
Obscenely perfect.
One leg is crooked out to the side like a figure four, the angle making the swell of his ass even more pronounced.
I reach out, unable to help myself, and run a slow finger along the dove tattoo. Chance doesn’t stir. My finger trails over the small of his back, then down a cheek. I pause to trace the little four-leaf clover.Still asleep, I think, as I let my hand drift lower. And lower—
“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” I hear, voice groggy but playful.
My eyes snap up to meet his, already half-lidded with that lazy, sexy grin.
Without breaking eye contact, I curl my fingers in the sheet and pull it all the way down.
“Meet me in the shower,” I murmur, voice low, “and I’ll show you what finishing is.”
The bed is suddenly empty in a flash of movement.
Chance is a blur: bare, glorious and laughing as he scrambles toward the bathroom. I bark a laugh and flop back onto the mattress, arms outstretched.
The sound of the shower kicks on a moment later.
We’re quiet this morning—well,Chanceis quiet. At least compared to usual. His mouth had plenty to say in the shower, and fuck me,thatmouth... I shake the thought off before I bend him over this table.
I sip my coffee and watch him across the kitchen table, bare-chested in a worn pair of sweatpants, his attention locked on his phone. He’s been scrolling, typing, scrolling again for the last thirty minutes. The bowl of fruit between us is barely touched. I snag a strawberry and pop it in my mouth.
Eventually, he looks up and catches me staring. A slow, genuine smile pulls at his lips, but there’s something behind his eyes.
I set my coffee down and say, “What’s up?”
Chance runs a hand through his hair. “So, something’s come up with Murph,” he says. “I have to hop on a flight out of town.”
My stomach dips. “Okay…” I manage.
He lets out a heavy breath. “I can’t really tell you more right now, but I’ll only be gone a night. I’ll check in constantly. I promise.”
I push up from the table, feeling like someone just pulled the floor out from under me. I know this isn’t the same, butlast time—last time he vanished forthree years.
I head into the kitchen with my coffee mug, standing at the sink, hands braced on the counter, staring into nothing.
A moment later, I feel his presence behind me. He sets his plate and the fruit bowl down on the counter, then gently turns me toward him and cradles my head in both hands.
“Hey,” he says softly. “I’ll be right back. Promise.”
