“Free together,” I agreed.
“We have a girl first,” King told me. “Name her Eve.”
My heart turned over in my chest at the beauty of that. “Okay.”
“Boy, it’s Lucien.”
“Our little Satan?” I laughed.
“Our little morning star,” he corrected.
“I was thinking Prince,” I admitted. “I have a collector’s edition of The Prince at the shop I was waiting to give you when you were patched in. The art of manipulation should come in handy with all those alpha males you’ve gotta round up.”
He laughed, forcing me to hang on to his chest so I wouldn’t fall off. “Prince, son of King. You know Zeus’ll love that.”
I did. It was one of the reasons I loved it so much.
“Okay, babe, Prince it is.”
“I like Lucien too, though.”
His grin was wicked as he rolled me back over and spread my legs, a hand sliding down to play in his cum as it leaked out of me. “Don’t worry, babe, gotta feelin’ we’ll have a fuckin’ baseball team of kids by the time I get tired of plantin’ my babies inside you.”
I laughed as he kissed my neck, clutching him to me, accepting him into my body again and thinking with absolutely certainty that he was right.
King
* * *
He timed it.
The motherfucker.
SS Danner timed the raid of the storehouse so it’d interfere with the opening of Cressida’s bookstore and all the brothers would be preoccupied, feel conflicted about leavin’ even when they found out.
Only we weren’t conflicted because my woman wasn’t.
“Go,” she said instantly when Zeus relayed the phone call from Gibson, explaining that the police had just pulled up to our storehouse outside Squamish. “Go and show that bastard how much smarter you are than him.”
It was a big fuckin’ day for my woman. Paradise Found seemed like a symbol of all the growth she’d done and all’a the ways she’d flourished since she changed her life to live it free of her family’s expectations. The store was fuckin’ perfect from the bottom of the glossed floor to the waxed beams gleaming on the ceilin’, and it was finally time, after months of hard work, for Entrance to see exactly how special my Cress could be. This place wasn’t meant to be just a home for books, but for anyone with a sense of loss who needed to be found, whether that was in the pages of a book, a chat sittin’ on leather with friends, or talkin’ to Cress who could soothe a troubled soul better than a shot of whiskey or an hour with some fancy therapist. She had been talkin’ to one when I’d interrupted, a young guy who didn’t look down on his luck so much as up on my woman.
Couldn’t blame him, way she looked that day. Spent a fuckuva lotta time in the bathroom dancin’ around in one of her bookish tees––The Great Gatsby––while she did stuff to her face that made her lashes even longer and her lips the kinda red a man absolutely had a solemn duty to kiss off. The pencil skirt was a leather so fine it hugged every inch of her curves, and the starched white blouse unbuttoned just a little too low to remind me of the days I’d sat in high school English class lusting after her, writing poem after poem to leave on her desk in an effort to woo her.
So I couldn’t blame the man for tryin’, but I still put an end to it in a way he wouldn’t think to come back for a second effort if I wasn’t around to block him.
All’a that beauty was heightened by the sheer fuckin’ joy and pride that radiated from her, so much it took serious effort not to stare at her and lose my train of thought when I was talkin’ to the people millin’ in and out of the store drinkin’ champagne and beer. Everyone in town was there, even the ones who looked sidelong at the dozen bikers shootin’ the shit like it was their backyard, and we were all makin’ an effort because we got it.
Not often you see a dream come true, so we were savourin’ it just as much as Cress.
Only the fucker Staff Sergeant had decided to ruin the fuckin’ day by bein’ an asshole and raidin’ one of our warehouses.
“King,” Cressida said, bringin’ me back from the anger threatenin’ to consume me. Her hand went to my cheek, and I tried to focus on the way all that hair moved over her breasts as she shook her head instead of the ways I’d kill SS Danner for this. “Honey, look at me.”
“See you,” I grunted because I did, fuckin’ every day I looked my fill like a glutton, shamelessly gorgin’ myself on her beauty and grace, tryin’ to be the kinda man who deserved it.