The Rebel King (All the King's Men Duet #2) - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,122
are soundproof. Thank, God. I didn’t need to hear that as a kid, and I certainly don’t want to.”
“Well, maybe I should give you your Christmas present now,” I whisper, making my look and my voice seductive.
“Yes, please,” Maxim replies, squeezing each cheek in one big hand. “I’ve been such a good boy this year.”
“Close your eyes.” I pull back and point my finger right in his face. He zeroes in on it, crossing his eyes comically.
“Don’t make me laugh,” I choke.
“You just laughed.”
I wag my finger in his face again. “Stay right there and close your eyes.”
He obeys, and I crawl across the mammoth mattress to the bedside table and pull out a gift box.
“Open your eyes.” I present him with the box and bite my lip to keep from laughing.
He opens those peridot eyes, lifts his brows, and takes the small rectangular box from me with a smile. “I thought we were opening gifts with my parents in the morning.”
“I have another one. This is just something small.”
“You spoil me.” He pulls the ribbon and pops the top off the box. His shout of laughter draws an answering giggle from me. “Lube? You got me lube for Christmas?”
He leans over, pressing me until my back hits the mattress. His hand explores beneath the robe and under my gown. I laugh when he kisses my neck and palms my breast.
“Maxim, no! We can’t here.”
He lifts his head, looking both affronted and mystified. “You can’t give a man lube and then deny him anal, Nix. That’s just cruel.”
“It’s a gag gift.”
“It is not a gag to me. It’s basically a promissory note. This is you promising me anal.”
“Yes,” I hiss, laughing and pushing his shoulder, which doesn’t budge. He keeps hovering over me. “But not here. Not in your parents’ house. It was a joke, Doc. Ha, ha funny.”
“A gag gift is like . . . a whoopy cushion with holly on it, not dangling that pretty, tight little asshole at me and then telling me I can’t have it tonight.”
“You ruin everything.” I chuckle, my laughter fading when I look up to find his eyes intensely fastened to my face. “But I love you.”
“Same, Nix. Same.”
A breathtaking tenderness filters into the dark center of his eyes and softens his expression. Inexplicably, tears sting my eyes again. Before I can even grasp what this is, he slaps my thigh playfully, shattering the mood. “I’m going to slip into something more comfortable, and then come back for some run-of-the-mill missionary sex.”
“Bastard.” I swallow the unexpected emotion, forcing a laugh, and sit up to watch him undress.
He crosses over to the dresser and rifles through the drawer for a few moments, back turned to me. My heart might burst, I love him so much right at this very second.
“Dammit,” he mutters, fumbling with his sleeve. “Babe, these stupid cufflinks. Can you help me?”
He walks back to the bed where I’m seated and proffers his wrist.
Removing the gold cufflink monogrammed with MKC, I glance up through my lashes to tease him. “What was so hard about that? Maybe you’re losing some hand-eye coordination in your old age.”
“Think that’ll make people feel better about voting for a young whippersnapper like me?” He laughs, but that look, that breath-stealing intentness, lingers.
“Bet I could spin it.” I smile and start on his left sleeve. When I flip over the cuff, my heartbeat screeches to a halt. My entire being, even my soul, breaks out in a sweat. My next breath queues up in my throat and just waits, suspended. A large cushion-cut diamond juts through the left sleeve’s slit. I drop the sleeve like it’s on fire, my hands flopping listlessly to my lap. Maxim watches me almost warily and drops down to his haunches in front of me. With his eyes never leaving my face, he pulls the ring out by its large diamond, revealing the delicate platinum band, which he takes between two fingers.
“I want the girl who chases stars,” he says, his voice rough, that tenderness now full-blown and overwhelming in the way he looks at me—in the way he takes my left hand and just holds it. “Lennix Moon Hunter, will you marry me?”
My body slowly reacquaints itself with reality. My heart makes up for lost time, going from a screeching halt to a sprint in my chest. I’m aware of tears easing down my cheeks and into the corners of my mouth. I lick them, and I know with my rational mind that they must be salty, but somehow, they’re sweet. Everything about this moment is sweet. The uncharacteristic uncertainty on Maxim’s face. His lips pressed tightly together like he may explode if I don’t answer him soon. I reach for him, sliding my right hand into his hair and leaning forward to hover over his lips.
“Maxim Kingsman Cade,” I whisper, my voice breaking over his name, over the rightness of this moment. I offer my left hand, my fingers spread wide. “Yes.”
Relief and joy stretch the smile on his face and he slips the diamond, nearly blinding under the lights, onto my ring finger.
“You do know I could be president one day, right?” he asks with a hoarse chuckle. “I’m just making sure we’re on the same page.”
“Yes, I do realize that.” I blink back more tears as I see how perfect the ring looks on my hand, and caress the other jewelry he gave me—the compass charm. “I signed on for you.”
He kisses me before I can finish the phrase that has helped me make peace with however our journey ends, but my heart recites the rest.
Whatever that means.
Wherever that takes us.
***
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