Page 51 of Deny Me
Charlotte woke with that drugged feeling you got when you slept hard and deep but not nearly long enough. Without thinking, she reached across the soft sheets for a warm body, only to find cool air and empty space.
Her eyes popped open. “King?”
The bathroom door opened, the tall, muscular figure of her lover stepping out, the white towel around his waist emphasizing the tan expanse of his skin. She sucked in her breath at his beauty but held it out of fear—how would he react this morning? How did he want to move forward? From his reactions last night she didn’t think it would be a one-time thing if she didn’t want it to be, but the uncertainty built through so many years of self-doubt reared its ugly head anyway.
“Morning, angel.” King walked straight to her and bent to brush his lips across hers. The sound of that word in his deep voice sent a shiver along her skin. He hadn’t called her that in so long, not until last night. He’d whispered it, groaned it, growled it over and over through the night, though, until the scar where it had been branded on her heart was ripped right off. Helplessly she grasped his jaw in both hands and kissed him back, much more thoroughly and deeply.
There was that growl again.
Cool air rushed over her as King pulled the sheets off her body. “Jesus, Charlotte,” he rasped, bending to brush the stubble on his cheeks across her rapidly tightening nipples. “I can’t seem to get enough of you.”
“Me too.” She arched, begging without words for him to suck one of the tight tips. His mouth on her breasts had always driven her higher than any other foreplay. When King complied, gripping her nipple with sharp teeth and pulling it hard into his mouth, a whine of need escaped her lips. The truth was, no matter how good it felt for him to touch her, to take her, it was the fact that it was King that made her insatiable. He’d been the only man she ever gave herself to completely, bare of any secrets, open in every way. That had made him the only man capable of destroying her—and he had.
Now?
Driving her fingers through his wet hair, she pushed him back until she could meet his gaze. “King…”
One side of his mouth tipped up in a chagrined smile. “Angel.”
She shivered beneath the weight of his body. That endearment was the only thing that kept her eyes on his.
He planted a hand near her hip, on the opposite side of her body, lifting himself off her enough that she could gather her thoughts. “Tell me,” he said.
It had been the only thing he ever commanded her to do. Oh, he could get bossy in bed because he knew it made her melt, but he’d never tried to take over her decisions. All he’d ever demanded was that she share her thoughts with him.
And she responded just as she always had. “I missed you.”
Bending his head, he placed a tender kiss on her breastbone. “I missed you too.” The words were rough with emotion, honesty. He raised his head, pinned her with a look. “But?”
“But…” She reached instinctively for the warmth of his skin, placing a hand on his chest. “King, I can’t give you a future.”
“You think having children is the only future I could be interested in?” Hurt lingered in the words, as if she were accusing him of being shallow for wanting his own children.
“No.” Honesty had her hesitating. “Yes.” But biological children weren’t any more precious than the hundreds of children out there that needed a loving home. “I don’t know.” There were too many conflicting emotions, and they felt almost as fresh as they had ten years ago. “I wanted to tell you what happened back then. It was your child as much as mine; you had a right to know.”
King’s hand circled her wrist, almost as if he needed the connection of touching her as much as she did him.
“It was selfish of me, maybe, not to come to you. I told myself there was nothing you could do, why put you through the torture of loss. I always imagined”—her throat closed, choking off the words, and she took a moment to clear it—“imagined you meeting someone out there, getting married, having babies.” She had to squeeze her eyes closed against the images, then forced herself to meet his again. “But you never did. You still could, King. Have a family, kids.”
Anyone else might think she was presuming too much, believing he would want to stay with her, commit to her now that they’d slept together again. But she knew King. Time had passed, but beneath the tougher facade, he hadn’t changed, not that part of him. They’d both known what last night meant when they’d done it.
If he was going to walk away, it had to be now. Which meant she had to lay it all out for him.
“You can’t have biological children, Charlotte,” he argued. “But that’s not your only option. Our only option. You might not carry children, but you better than anyone knows exactly how much that matters.”
Truth. She mourned the loss of carrying a child, experiencing what that would be like, but that didn’t preclude being a mother. “I know that. But it’s not me who has to accept it overnight.”
King’s mouth tightened, his eyes narrowing. “Are you healthy?”
She frowned, not understanding.
“Are you healthy? Safe? A hysterectomy is major surgery, especially so young.” He glanced down her body. “All of your hormones would be affected. Your health. I want you no matter what, angel, but my heart wants to know you’re okay,for you.”
She reached up to smooth the hair falling over his forehead out of the way. “I am. It wasn’t easy to get everything on an even keel, but I’m okay.”
Leaning down until his broad shoulders blocked out the room, King stared deep into her eyes as if he could burrow all the way down to the furthest reaches of her soul. “That’s what’s important. I’ll keep saying it till you believe it, Charlotte—youare what matters to me. Every other possibility that might come with it is just gravy.” He shrugged. “And you know how much of a gravy man I am.”
She did. He was the only person she knew who refused Ruth’s sausage gravy and biscuits. He’d always preferred honey butter.
