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I squeeze my thighs together, not believing what I’m about to admit. “I’d put it on a, um, dildo and pretend.”
“Fuuuck.” King groans deep in his chest, his open mouth dropping to the bare part of my shoulder.
My entire body is lit up, practically vibrating.
The hand holding the ring lowers, flattening over my stomach, and I can’t even be bothered to worry about how my much softer body feels to him, because right now, all I want is to have him closer.
My back arches.
“Baby, you––” his words are cut off by a loud knocking on the door. “Goddammit.” He pulls me tighter against his body, letting me feel that he’s just as affected as I am. “Fuck. We’ll talk about this later.” Then he’s letting me go.
And for the second time today, I don’t stare at his ass as he walks out of the room.
“And leave clothes out for dinner.” He calls over his shoulder. “We’re going out after this.”
CHAPTER29
Savannah
King slows the vehicle,lifting a hand in a lazy wave to a security guard, as he drives through the open gate into a fancy neighborhood.
“Um, I thought you said we were going out for dinner?” I ask.
We pass more and more houses and when he doesn’t reply, I start to get nervous. “King?”
His head jerks toward me, an intense expression on his face.
“What?” I can’t read his expression.
“I like hearing you say my name.”
My mouth pops open. “I’ve said your name before…”
He shakes his head, turning his attention back to the street ahead of us.
I try to think back. That can’t be true. Is it?
As I scrub my memory, I look out the window, watching more residences pass.
I’m guessing we’re going to Nero’s house, because I can’t imagine anywhere else he’d take me.
I’d already been wondering if there’d be a way for me to escape at a restaurant. But no matter how I cut it, it just didn’t seem possible. I mean, there’s always the possibility that he’s lying about the cops being in his pocket, or that his enemies would try to get me.The whole enemy talk still blows my mind, though I did see him kill a guy…But on the off chance I did find a way out, I decided to dress practically. So, for our dinner out, I put on my shimmery gold palazzo pants, with a black, low-cut, ruffle-sleeved tank. Paired with a pair of cute all black tennis shoes, good for running. And since it was the first time in two days that I was able to, I did my make up and put my hair up into a high ponytail.
I might have a small enough wardrobe that it all fits into two suitcases, but my experience with showings art galleries means I have some nice pieces to wear. Which is good, because King––my freaking husband––always looks like a million bucks.
Probably because he is a millionaire.
My eyes slide over to him as I think about the things he’s told me.
Maybe he’s more than a millionaire.
The tires bump as King pulls into a driveway. In a normal situation I’d feel a little over-dressed for a dinner at a friend’s house, but based on the house we just pulled up to, I probably should’ve worn high heels.
King doesn’t say anything, just parks and turns off the engine, before climbing out.
Following his lead, I unbuckle and open the door.
King’s already at my side when I climb out, and as we walk up the brick sidewalk, leading to the front door, King places his hand on my back.