Page 18 of Deviant Princess (Knight's Ridge Empire 5)

“Coward,” she calls after me.

As much as I want to storm back in there and plead my case, to force her to see things from my perspective, I don’t.

Instead, I swing my own door closed and start stripping my clothes off as I head for the bathroom and a much-needed shower.

My hard cock bobs between my legs and I stand there with my head tipped back, the burning hot water running over my face and down my body.

One look at her sleeping and I’m fucking hard.

She’s right. I’m fucked up.

But so what?

So is she.

Match made in hell,I remember Stella and Seb saying that about each other. I thought they were insane. I do think they’re insane. But I’m also starting to understand.

Emmie and I are a bad idea.

We’ve got disaster written all over us, but I can’t stop craving her. I can’t shut off my unhealthy obsession with her, even though it’s going to end up landing us both in hell.

I always thought I wanted a nice girl, a compliant girl. Someone like Mum—in a non-creepy way.

It hasn’t mattered how much shit Dad has thrown at her over the years, she’s always rolled with the punches, understanding that the Family comes over and above everything else—including their actual family.

She’s the doting wife, the caring mother.

She allows him to do the things he needs to do and doesn’t bat an eye when he turns up with his clothes soaked in blood and his knuckles needing patching up.

Watching them over the years, I could see it being my future.

Having a nice woman waiting at home, ready to hide the evidence of whatever I’d done while speaking softly and providing me with dinner… it’s old-fashioned, I know. But it’s what I lived through. It’s been my normal since before I knew what relationships were.

But Emmie… she’s Mum’s opposite in every single fucking way.

She’s brash, loud, and impulsive. She calls me out on my bullshit before I even know it’s bullshit, and she makes me question everything.

She doesn’t allow me to think that I’m perfect. Instead, like just now, she metaphorically—okay, sometimes literally— kicks me in the balls and tells me that I’m not all that.

“Fuck,” I bark, slamming my palm down on the marble over and over, trying to rid my body of the anxiety she drags up.

What I need is her.

Her smart mouth, her sinful body. Her thighs around my waist as she claws at my back while crying out my name.

But I already know it’s not going to happen.

I make quick work of washing up and ignoring my aching cock. What good is my hand going to do right now, anyway?

It’s not what it wants, what it needs.

“Motherfucking cunt,” I mutter as I wrap a towel around my waist.

I’m still dripping wet when I pull my bedroom door open once more to get a drink from the kitchen before I pass the fuck out, but I come to an abrupt halt when I find Emmie also about to escape her room.

Her eyes lock on mine and a startled gasp rips from her lips, but she’s soon distracted when she notices what I’m not wearing.

Her attention falls to my body, and my already semi-hard cock grows once more.