Page 67 of Kings Don't Break

That fucking does it. That’s the last fucking straw.

Ken Stricklin refuses to keep his distance. He refuses to stay away from Korine. He thinks he’s gonna intimidate her, harass her, and much worse…

He’s got a real wakeup call coming. I’ll have his blood on my hands soon enough.

14

KORINE

“Will you stop hogging all the hot water for yourself?” I yell from the other side of the door. I pound a fist against it for the dozenth time.

The staticky sound of spraying water only seems to grow louder. It does nothing to disguise the whistling coming from the man in the shower—Blake’s taking his sweet time. Probably savoring every second he gets to drive me insane.

“Blake!” I croak with another rap of my knuckles. “I’m going to be late for work if you don’t open this?—”

The door swings open and he’s standing before me dripping wet. His normally perfect golden hair is shiny and slicked down. His blue eyes gleam. His warm, pink lips twitch into an almost-smile, waking the dormant butterflies in my belly. They flutter away inside my stomach as my gaze drops and then my jaw.

Blake’s naked.

He stands in the doorway looking every bit the impossibly handsome, well-built specimen that he is. Wide shoulders and sculpted biceps decorated by a handful of tattoos. A torso with zero body fat to be found. Just the stack of bricks that make up his six-pack abs.

The lower my gaze tracks, the more bated my breath becomes. It’s like unwrapping a present on Christmas morning except there’s no wrapping necessary at all—Blake’s dick dangles between his legs, as large and mouthwatering as I remember it.

Fat tip. A slight curve to his length. Smooth velvet that feels so good it sends a shiver down my spine. And the neatest, most well-groomed pair of balls I’ve ever seen.

All on display for me to gape at, speechless.

The rest of his body is no less magnificent. Golden-tinted man-hair dusts his sturdy thighs and legs, and he’s planted his feet on the ground in a stance that exudes confidence, even though he’s naked. He dwarfs me, taller than he was when we were in high school, tapping out a couple inches above six feet.

Mama was right—Blake Cash looks so damn good it’s enough to make any woman sling her panties at him.

Humor sparkles in his eyes watching me ogle him. “Like something you see, Kori?”

My tongue won’t cooperate. Neither will my brain. I blink several times and sputter out, “Huh?”

“Me too,” Blake rasps. He leans closer ’til his lips graze my ear. “I sure as hell like what I see.”

It’s then that it dawns on me in horrifying shock—glancing down my front, I’m naked too!

Naked as the day I was born.

I open my mouth to scream only for the scene around me to vanish. I’m springing up on the sofa with heaving breaths and my eyes wide.

It was a dream. Only a dream.

“Thank god,” I mutter, pressing a hand to my chest where my heart’s pounding. “It wasn’t real.”

“What wasn’t real?” Blake asks. He strolls into the living room—this time fully dressed—holding two mugs of coffee. The one in his right hand he sets on the coffee table for me, keeping the left for himself. “You were too damn cute sleeping on the couch. Couldn’t bring myself to wake you.”

I lick my lips, still dazed from the very realistic, very convincing dream. “Errr… thanks.”

“Listen, I was thinking we should get out today. Do something other than work at the Chop Shop and hang around my trailer.”

My grip tightens on the blanket sprawled across my lap. “Something as in, what?”

“The Christmas market’s open this weekend. It could be fun.”

“Christmas market? Out in the open around everybody in Pulsboro?”