Lessons in Corruption (The Fallen Men 1)

His frown screwed tighter. “Right. Let me get this straight. My brothers show up to help you with your yard work because they wanna help you out and you call them fuckin’ gang members? What the hell, Cress?”

Shame doused my anger like a bucket of cold water. “Ugh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way, I just—”

“Shut up, I wasn’t finished,” King growled, stepping close to me so that he could lean down into my face. The only thing that kept his posture from being totally threatening was the hand that found its way to the back of my neck, under my hair. I realized that he did it when he wanted to connect with me, when he needed to reassure both of us that I was his. It scared me how much I liked it. How much I needed it too.

He is your fucking student, Cressida, the adult, respectable, and moral side of me reminded myself.

He is also hot as fuck when he’s like this, the other side, the darker, deviant one that had always lived deep inside me but was steadily clawing closer and closer to the surface of my being.

“Second, you’re right. I’m not your fuckin’ boyfriend. Children have girlfriends and boyfriends. Idiots let their women walk around unclaimed, secured by a fuckin’ hope and a prayer because they don’t make their women feel owned, cherished like the ultimate prize. No, I am your man, babe. The fuckin’ man that sees you strugglin’ to make ends meet because of your prick of a soon-to-be ex-husband so he calls in his brothers to help her out even though he knows they’ll give him shit for being pussy whipped. I’m your fuckin’ man because I love being that for you. Now, do you hear me?”

My breath panted out in the sliver of air between us. His words had me wound up like a toy, ready to spring further without any thought to the consequences. I tried to think of all the reasons I couldn’t let this man be my man and the first one that sprang to mind was, stupidly, what I went with.

“You can’t be my man because you’re still a boy. You’re eighteen, King.”

Even though his eyes were pale, like sunshine on ice, they were perpetually affable. He was a happy, social guy with innate charisma and a wealth of charm, a guy who loved life and was generally stoked to be living it. So, it was with actual terror that I watched those eyes drain of all warmth.

His hand on the back of my neck squeezed almost painfully.

“I got work to do, so I’m going to ignore your repeated attempts to piss me off until after the guys leave and I can show you just how much of a fuckin’ man I am.”

I swallowed painfully at the look of disgusted reproach in his eyes as he pulled away from me, already shouting orders at the men.

“It’s real hard to piss that boy off, but sure looks like you succeeded,” the deep rumble of a familiar voice came from behind me and I knew before I even turned around that Zeus Garro was standing there.

He looked as enormous and dangerous as ever, too hot for anyone’s good, hotter even than his son if you liked a man who looked like he could literally and easily kill someone with his bare hands.

Unlike the other guys, he was still leaning against his bike, wearing his leather jacket, smoking a cigarette in a way that said he knew how to make love to a woman and, conversely, that he didn’t give a fuck about your opinion of his cancer stick.

Still, I said, “Those will kill you.”

Because I was looking for it, I saw the flash of humor light his eyes, nearly the same color as his son’s but more silver than pale blue.

“Maybe it’s not such a surprise you piss him off,” he amended.

I shrugged helplessly and went over to his bike to lean on the huge metal beast with him. There was something about King’s father, someone whose very posture dared anyone to fuck with him, that put me oddly at ease. I knew he wasn’t interested in me, that he didn’t condemn me for lusting after his son or having an ugly yard or a messed up marriage. Zeus Garro didn’t give a fuck about anyone until he did, and then he didn’t care who you were or what you’d once done.

I had a feeling that I was edging into the latter category and it made me warm inside the way pleasing my parents to keep their affection, or obeying William because it was my duty as his wife, had never done.

Zeus offered me the damp tip of his cigarette. When I raised my eyebrows at him dubiously, he hitched a shoulder and said, “Can’t hate it if you’ve never tried it.”