Page 5 of Satisfying the King

“Come shower with me. I need someone to wash my back.” He grinned and lowered his head until his lips touched mine.

Stefan was right about a lot of things.

I loved him all sweaty.

And I also very much wanted to go into the shower with him.

But the timing wasn’t exactly great. I kissed him anyway and breathed in his musky scent. His hot, sweaty body pressed up against mine was—perfectly wonderful.

“Come upstairs with me,” he muttered in between kisses.

I smiled and tried to push him away—but he wasn’t about to allow that. “Stefan, I can’t. I have to cook.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, go wash the man’s back, so he stops acting like a goddamn horny teenager.” Carlo’s voice disturbed our make-out session.

This time, Stefan let me move out of his embrace. “I was going to start lunch, but I can get you something now.”

He glared at me. “I’m fine. I’ll grab something on my own.”

Dani was asleep on him, and he carried her around like it was nothing to tote an extra human on his chest.

I gazed up at him and tried to use my softest voice possible. “I have two free hands. Tell me what you want to eat, and I’ll make it.”

I could feel the frustration and fatigue emanating from him. I so, so, so wished I could take it all away somehow.Who knows?Maybe making a stupid sandwich might help.

Carlo looked from me to Stefan, then back to me. “I don’t give a fuck.” And with that, he promptly turned and walked away.

“Yikes,” I said to Stefan after Carlo and Dani were out of earshot. “I need to get him something to eat. Go shower and you can help me make lunch.”

Stefan’s expression muted, and he jerked his head at me before turning around and leaving.

I quickly warmed up some of last night’s chicken and risotto. It tasted freaking delicious. I grabbed a lemonade with ice cubes and set off to find the grouchy, tired lumberjack.

I found him in the living room around the corner. He—they—were sitting on one of the huge, oversized couches in here. Carlo’s eyes were shut, but I knew he wasn’t sleeping.

I carried the plate to him, and his eyes popped open. “Thanks, just leave it on the coffee table.” He promptly closed his eyes after that.

I didn’t listen.

Instead, I sat beside them and scooped up a forkful of risotto and chicken. “Open,” I ordered in a whispered voice.

He swung his head at me and frowned. “You’re not feeding me.” His voice was harsh and growly. And the look on his face intended to kill.

Honestly?That was all fine to me. I knew how exhausting it was to carry around an inconsolable kid for hours on end.

And I knew how tired and crusty I felt doing it.

Carlo didn’t have any kids—so this was all new to him.

“How many times have you fed me?” I asked in a soft, gentle voice as I tried my best to tame the beast beside me.

His frown deepened. “That’s different,” he attempted to argue, but I held the fork in front of his lips.

“It’s getting cold, and you need to eat.” I stared at him, not intending to get up until he finished this plate.

Carlo finally opened his mouth. A spark of joy ignited inside of me as he chewed. It was something I’d never felt before and I couldn’t quite understand it.

“You can go—wash Stefan’s back, you know. I’m fine with that. We don’t all have to be present for every—encounter.”

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