Page 55 of Devious Kingpin
It sounded so fucking right. Years of chasing her and she was finally where she belonged. Right here with me. In my city. In my home. In my room. On my fucking bed.
Although she’d avoided locking eyes with me ever since I’d finished in the shower. That was a first. That girl was never shy to stare anyone down or blurt out something inappropriate. Yet, here she was sitting on our bed, her legs folded and staring at her sandwich like it was godsent, chewing it slowly as if that would stop her from talking.
The only thing that should stop her from talking was my cock in her mouth.
Fuck!
All the heat rushed to my groin and I silently cursed myself. The last thing I needed were images of Juliette on her knees. She’d sooner bite my dick off than suck it. Although the aversion had nothing to do with me.
That alone sent a cold fury running through my veins.
I couldn’t wait to spend some quality time with that fucker Travis. He’d regret the day he was born.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked her softly.
She had put the robe back on, the right way this time, but she must have still been hot. The robe slipped off her shoulder and she didn’t bother pulling it back up, giving me a glimpse of her beautiful skin. Unlike my tan skin, hers was fair. Too fair. Almost like a porcelain doll.
Juliette’s eyes flared and her cheeks turned a deep shade of red. Red blotches marred her chest and she quickly tightened the robe, hiding her body.
The moment I lowered myself on the bed, she tensed and panic entered her expression. Goosebumps broke out over her skin and her hands trembled as she gripped the robe against her body.
“I’m not going to touch you,” I promised quietly. I’d rather cut my dick off than hurt her. Yes, I’d obsessed over her for two years—even longer if we considered NYC. But I hadn’t sought out any other women since she’d reappeared in my life. I was saving myself for her. And I’d continue that. But it didn’t mean I’d lose control. That wasn’t me.
She peered at me through her thick, dark lashes, vulnerability shining in their depths.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered, red blotches still marking her flawless skin. She hated her own vulnerability. “I bet you never thought you’d get a defective bride.”
I took her chin between my fingers and forced her to face me. “You. Are. Not. Defective.” Our gazes clashed. My darkness. Hers. My ghosts. Hers. “And don’t you ever fucking apologize for the actions of others. It’s not your fault.” My hold on her chin tightened. “Not. Your. Fault.”
“I know it’s not,” she spat, though her usual spitefulness wasn’t in her words. Tears glimmered in her eyes and one made its escape. I refused to let her hide in the dark and combat her ghosts alone, so I stayed silent and let her speak her truth. “Sometimes I just can’t help thinking about what I did wrong. Why me?” Her tongue darted out, sweeping over her bottom lip. I tried to stay focused on her words. I wanted to be a good husband to her. “Did I smile too much? Maybe it was perceived as flirtation. My clothes were too revealing, so I must have been asking for it. Right?”
“No,” I growled. “I don’t care if you parade naked; it doesn’t give any man the right to take something from you. Understood?”
Guilt pierced through my chest but I ignored it. I fucked up, because I took her free will when I slipped her the drug but this was neither the time nor place. Maybe when we are old and gray, madly in love, I’d admit it to her. But first, I’d worship her for decades to come.
“I feel silly in your robe,” she remarked after a beat, changing subjects.
“You don’t have to feel silly,” I said, thinking she was embarrassed that I’d caught her waving the robe in the air like it was a flag on Independence Day. It looked ludicrous but I’d come to expect that from Juliette.
Her mouth parted and she turned an even deeper shade of red. “W-what?”
I chuckled. “You’re adorable in my robe,” I told her softly and her cheeks blushed attractively. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
Her brows scrunched but the flush didn’t leave her skin. “You want me to tell you why I was waving the robe like a maniac?” she asked carefully, her blush deepening.
Why did I feel like I was missing something here?
“No, I was asking whether you want to tell me what happened with Travis,” I said softly, my tone careful. “I had a—” My voice trailed off thinking back to those days and instantly my mood turned gloomy. “A friend. It helps to talk.”
Although my brother never talked about it. Fucking ever. Neither did I. We locked those demons deep inside and pretended they didn’t exist. But they reared their ugly heads every so often. For Priest, more than me, and it gutted me that I couldn’t save him.
So I focused all my attention on Juliette. Her blush paled and her eyes lost their sparkle. Her bottom lip quivered and my chest squeezed. Jesus, at this rate, I’d have a heart attack.
“Nobody knows,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “I never told anyone.”
“What about your aunt?” She shook her head, chewing on her bottom lip. “Wynter?”
Another shake of her head. She fucking dealt with it all on her own. It sent another shot of anger through me. I had to remain still or risk raging and that was the last thing I wanted to do. Scare Juliette off. On our wedding night, nonetheless.
