Feral King (The Dominant Bastard Duology 1)

“Shh!”

Pasting a pleasant smile on her face, she opened the door, bracing for how hot he was. Even after mentally preparing herself, the crackle of sexual energy between them as soon as she their gazes met was completely indecent.

“Hi,” she said, impressed she could string two letters together.

“Hi, yourself.” He leaned against the brick wall beside the door, and she had to stifle the whimper of desire that threatened to make itself heard.

“Holy shit!” came the inevitable response from behind her.

“Mom!”

“The boy is ripped!”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Make it two goats.”

“Mother!”

“You’re my only child. It’s the least I can do.” She laughed manically. “Hi Nate! Good to see you! I want grandchildren before I die!”

Nate’s cheekbones stained red, but he took her joking in stride. “Hi, Mrs Dawson. It’s nice to see you again.” His smile was blinding and Riley was helpless to look away.

“It’s good to see you too!” Her mother beamed for a long moment, and Riley could tell she’d decided Nate was the answer to all of her prayers. “Well, I’ll leave you kids alone so you can talk.”

“Mom, if you listen at the door, I’m not paying for your therapy.”

Her mother chuckled. “Got it. Oh, and no sex on the new couch.”

The sound of her mother’s walker hitting the doorframe into the kitchen, then the hiss of the sliding door to the back deck made Riley fairly certain they had privacy.

“What are you doing here?” Riley asked rudely.

“I spent too many years wondering what I did wrong the last time. This time I want closure.”

The anger she’d been stewing in since she’d left his place bubbled up. Why she’d expected new Nate, who lived above a BDSM club and looked like a fitness model, to not be a cheater, she’d never know.

“You told me you were single. I’m not interested in being that girl.”

“What are you talking about? I am single.”

“Bullshit.”

He blinked at her, probably trying to figure out how she’d found out.

“What on earth are you talking about, Leelee?”

The old sadness and feelings of betrayal flared back to life. Here she’d thought she’d worked through it all.

“If you’re about to propose to someone, you’re not fucking single, Sexton. Not by any stretch of the imagination. If you think you are, you need to reconsider whether you’re the marrying kind.”

“What?”

“Oh, and don’t tell a girl you’re single and then bring her back to your place and leave an engagement ring box open on your shelf. That was just shitty planning.”

His mouth opened slightly, and realization lit his eyes.

“Oh. The ring.”