King (Alliance, #2)

by S.J. Tilly

Sorta like wearing these suits. No one enjoys wearing a fucking suit. No one with biceps, at least. But I wear it because it makes me look respectable. Civilized.

“I won’t force myself inside you, Savannah Baby. But I am dying to come all over those pretty tits, so don’t fucking tempt me.”

“We could run him over,” Nero offers. I shake my head. “I’m not denting my Suburban.”

“Who’re we killing?” His tone is casual. “I promised Aspen I wouldn’t.” He makes a humming sound. “Still leaves a lot of wiggle room.”

Aspen holds my gaze. “To having dangerous men on our side.”

“Honey.” He cups my chin, keeping my eyes on his. “I’ll tell everyone about your art because I’m fucking proud of you.”

“Look around us. Look at all this beauty you add to the world. All the goodness you share.” He gently squeezes my hands. “I wasn’t lying when I told you that the world needed your art. But that wasn’t all of it. I need it, too. I need your joy. I need you to even out the bad things I do. Because with all of this?” He turns his head, taking in my paintings. “The world doesn’t feel quite so awful. So, yeah, Baby, I’m proud of you. And if no one has ever said that to you before, it’s not because you weren’t good enough. It’s because they weren’t.” King swipes his thumb across my cheek, catching another tear. I don’t want to cry here. I don’t want to cry at all. But I don’t know what to do with this overwhelming feeling of acceptance. With the heat building inside me. Because it feels… My heart aches as it swells. It feels a lot like love.