The King - S.R. Jones Page 0,83
room last night, all please be my savior big bad wolf.
Ugh.
Sometimes, I hate myself and my weakness. I should have stayed in my own room and not given in to such a needy moment. He’ll probably weaponize this against me once this strange truce we seem to be having wears off.
The effect he has on me, though, is profound. I’ve slept terribly for nights now, yet he commanded me to sleep, and I did. Soundly too. I’m refreshed for the first time in days.
Warmth covers my back as his big body rolls into mine. He makes a sort of hhhmmmpf sound against my neck, and his warm breath tickles the fine hair at my nape.
I turn slowly and smile as sleepy, early-morning Konstantin looks at me. His eyes are softer than usual, without that killer focus he nearly always has going on.
“Morning,” he mumbles.
“Morning,” I say back.
He brushes his nose over my neck, ear, and cheek and inhales. “You even smell like sunshine, all coconut and citrus.”
I giggle. “It’s just my shampoo.”
“I like it.”
He twists a lock of my hair in one of his fingers. “I like your hair,” he says as he smells it, like the weirdo he is.
“Are you … smelling my hair?”
He smiles, all lazy and relaxed. “Yep.”
I decide there and then that early morning Konstantin is one of my favorite things.
He rolls himself on top of me, looking down at me, and my heart stills.
“No sex,” he says as if he’s telling himself, not me.
“No sex,” I reply, second guessing myself, but knowing he’ll figure out what Denis did if we go there, and that will make him angry all over again.
I look at him as he holds himself above me, his arms nothing but huge columns of power and muscle. He’s glorious, and I want to sink my teeth into a meaty bicep and lick his tan skin.
He brushes his nose against mine in a surprisingly sweet gesture and smiles again. “I better get off you and make coffee, before I do something not allowed.”
Allow him, allow him, my libido clamors, but then he brushes against my breast as he moves, and I wince.
His eyes narrow like the hawk he is, never missing a damn thing.
“What’s wrong?” he says.
“My jaw,” I lie.
“Try again.”
“No, honestly, it’s my jaw.”
He says nothing but gets off me and holds out his hand. I take it, and he pulls me from the bed. I think the conversation is over, but then he reaches up and gently cups my breast. He’s using hardly any pressure, but I gasp at the pain.
“What the fuck?” He lifts my nightdress, and I grab his hand as it reaches mid-thigh.
“No, what are you doing?”
“Let me see, Cassie,” he growls.
I’m wearing panties, and while I don’t really want him seeing my boobs, that isn’t the reason I’m stopping him. I’m stopping him because I’m worried what he’ll do when he sees Denis’ handywork.
For a moment, we engage in a battle of wills, but like always with this man, I lose.
I let go, and he pulls my nightdress up, past my panties, the kind I wouldn’t normally wear but are the only kind Derek bought for me, sexy and red.
Up, up, up past my stomach until he raises just one side, exposing my left breast.
I glance at him to see his gaze darken, his forehead furrow, and his brows dip low.
Pure rage suffuses his face as he looks at my breast. “You need a doctor,” he says.
I shake my head. “No, no doctor. Please.”
I can’t bear it. More fuss, more hassle. I’m so tired of it all, and I don’t want a doctor poking and prodding me like I’m a piece of meat.
“Denis?” he asks.
I nod because there’s no point lying now.
“He’s going to suffer much worse when I get ahold of him,” he says as if it’s a promise I want him to make.
“Not for me,” I tell him. “I don’t want him hurt more for me.”
“Despite this?” He nods toward my tender, bruised breast.
“It’s already done, and I don’t see how him being hurt worse by you will take this away.”
“It won’t, but it will be right.”
“An eye for an eye, eh?” I say sadly. “My grandma says that just leaves the whole world blind.”
He pulls my nightdress down, gentle and careful.
Then he takes his phone from the nightstand and dials a number. “Derek, get a nurse, female, private, discreet, to come to the house this afternoon. Cost is no object, and in the meantime,