Page 79 of Kneel with the King
“Wouldn’t that just make your week.”
I chuckle. “Honestly? No. I’m hoping you survive long enough for us to talk again. Properly.”
He shoots me a side glance, unreadable. “Define ‘properly.’”
I shrug. “No yelling. No storming off. Maybe some honesty. You said I used you, and I can’t argue that. But I didn’t lie about all of it.”
“You lied about enough of it.”
“I know.”
Another pause. We both keep moving, the silence stretching like a rope between us.
“I meant what I said earlier,” he mutters. “We can play nice for the retreat. For optics. But after that…”
“I don’t want that to be the end,” I say.
“It’s not up to you. I also have a say, and I’m saying it’s the end.”
And there it is—a line in the snow between us. It feels like a punch to my gut, despite knowing how much I fucked this all up.
Truthfully, I didn’t expect to…likehim so much. I knew the attraction was there, but enjoying my time with him? I didn’t exactly count on that. I thought it would be easy to fuck with him, to get the revenge I’d been craving for a decade. He was my first kiss, and then he left me high and dry. I was humiliated, and that feeling only fueled my business decisions over the last few years.
But then he looked so defeated. Older. More worn down. Despite that, Ienjoyedbeing around him. I laughed and smiled more, regardless of the bickering. And those blue eyes still properly fucked me up every time they turned their gaze on me.
It wasn’t until I saw the hurt on his face earlier this morning with Walter that I realized I’d taken things too far. That I wanted to repair whatever this thing is between us.
That perhaps I wanted to give us a shot at something real.
The group begins to move apart, pairs falling into a rhythm as skis glide across packed snow. Asher and I trail somewhere in the middle. Far enough from Jacques and Walter that we won’t be overheard, but close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body every time our arms brush.
He’s silent. Murderously intent on ignoring me. And all I want to do is poke the bear, because even if he’s furious with me, at least he’s not giving me the silent treatment.
“You’re going to rupture a blood vessel if you keep grinding your teeth like that,” I mutter.
“Shut up,” he bites out.
I smile. It’s mean, maybe. But I can’t help it.
“I thought you liked it when I talked. You certainly didn’t seem to mind last night when I was whispering against your throat.”
He stops in his tracks. I almost glide past him.
“You’re infuriating,” he says, eyes flashing.
“Only with you,” I reply, too easily. “And I think you like it.”
He turns then, skis crunching snow as he faces me. “You really think sex is going to fix this?”
“No,” I say, tone suddenly serious. “But I think it’s the only language we’re fluent in.”
That gets him. His jaw flexes. I see the truth hit him right behind the eyes, and I hate that it’s true. Hate that for all our precision and control, neither of us has figured out how to speak gently.
Not with each other.
The guide calls out from up ahead. “Watch the slope on the right. The trail gets slick past the ridge!”
Asher pushes ahead again without another word, and I follow.
