King's Queen Read online

  Grasping for my phone, I squinted at the window. What was the time? The room-darkening blinds were drawn, but light shone around the edges. It wasn’t as early as I’d thought. Aiden had been rising before the ass crack of dawn longer than I’d known him, probably his entire life, but it was late by his standards.

  I peered at the time. After eight.

  Early by my standards for a Saturday.

  I sat up. The blanket dropped from my chest and goose bumps spread over my body. I was naked. Another reason why eight a.m. felt more like four a.m., Aiden had kept me up until the middle of the night.

  I’d known he had stamina, but I hadn’t known he had stamina.

  How could he have held back that much? And if he hadn’t been getting what he wanted, why hadn’t he strayed?

  I flung the blankets aside. Rigid control. Aiden was loyal to a fault, and he kept a tight rein on all extraneous bodily functions that didn’t serve his goal. His primary goal was work, not sex.

  Until last night.

  And lord help me, I’d loved it. Aiden had gone out of his way in bed to make me feel treasured. I hadn’t trusted the feeling, but that hadn’t been his goal. If his goal last night had been to make me feel like an insatiable sex goddess who said yes to anything he asked, mission accomplished.

  Sex like that would’ve made it impossible to draw up divorce papers.

  I bit my lower lip. So now what?

  It was too early to think about where we went now, or what to do with the divorce papers that might have bodily fluids on them.

  I climbed out of bed and went to the walk-in closet. Dang, I missed this house. I could twirl inside this space with my arms open and my fingertips would barely graze the clothes hanging up.

  I reached for a sweater I wore to work once in a while. It was beige cashmere, soft as a cloud, and fitted in a way that flattered my body type. Then what do I put on? Slacks? Do I go blow out my hair?

  No. I had no plans today. If I’d woken up in the trailer, I’d have thrown on an old college hoodie with some leggings and fluffy socks. I’d kept some of my lesser-used loungewear here. After finding some, I finger-combed my hair and walked out of the bedroom.

  Thankfully, our last round of sex had been in the shower.

  The treadmill shut off. He’d do his strength training next, then come upstairs to chug a protein shake before he took a shower. Maybe I’d bring it down to him and do some shameless husband watching. He often worked out without his shirt.

  I whipped his shake up. The bag of his strawberry mango powder was nearly empty. Did he know where to order it? I rolled my eyes. He’d been downing that shake since before me. He could take care of it.

  But would I order the next bag? Or would he?

  Would I move back in?

  I concentrated on the single-serving blender and tried to forget the mounting questions.

  I wasn’t sure I’d like the answers.

  I snagged a bottle of OJ and a banana for me. A muffin would be really good, but the exact opposite of the protein shake. I’d rarely brought a jumbo muffin into the house for a breakfast treat.

  Despite that, he knew I loved muffins.

  I carried the food downstairs. Weights clunked louder the closer I got.

  There was a loud thunk, followed by a little grunt. As I rounded the corner, I spotted him. He jumped up from the bench and swung his arms back and forth as he sidestepped to the open center.

  Stretch time.

  He had an earbud in, but he caught my gaze in the wall-to-wall mirrors that I usually avoided. His gaze dropped to the shake and appreciation filled his eyes.

  “Thanks,” he mouthed.

  He must be listening to music. I suspected half the reason he worked out the way he did was because he loved a country song with a strong beat, and gym time was the only time he gave himself to indulge.

  He swung an arm over his head and all the accessory muscles along his torso popped out. Behind him in the glass was me in loungewear and an armful of food. I couldn’t bring myself to care.

  I perched on the edge of the weight bench and munched on my banana. A wick of heat traced down my spine.

  He was watching me eat the banana. I took a lingering bite but couldn’t hold the come-hither face and broke into giggles.

  His lips twitched and he dropped to stretch his legs.

  I drained my juice. He popped up, took the bud out of his ear, and set it on the stand by the door that held the case with his other one.

  I handed his shake to him and he gulped it down, standing over me. Tingles of awareness spread through my body. There was no way I was ready to have more sex. It had to be humanly impossible. Multiple orgasms only went so far. Right?

  But as Aiden set his empty shake cup down and aimed his intense gaze at me, my lips parted. I wouldn’t know how many orgasms were possible in twenty-four hours if I didn’t try.

  He dropped to his knees in front of me and growled, “Lie back.”

  Aiden

  * * *

  After our second shower together in less than twelve hours, I found Kate in the kitchen. She was preparing a brunch with the meager foodstuffs she could find. I’d been shit at getting groceries. Kate liked to shop herself instead of using delivery or pickup, and I’d happily let her.

  I had my computer set up at the table, but out of the corner of my eyes, I tracked her progress through the kitchen. Especially when her ass was sticking out of the pull-out freezer. She found frozen sausage that Dawson had gotten when he’d traded a quarter of beef for a portion of pork. Then I got another look at her round ass when she dug out the waffle maker. Belgian waffles were a weakness of mine.

  Most good food was a weakness of mine, but after Dad’s health scare, I kept a strict diet. I sat behind a desk too long every damn day for it not to be.

  The rich smell of waffles filled the air along with the sizzle of sausage and eggs. My stomach rumbled as if I hadn’t eaten in a week.

  But then Kate and I had worked up quite an appetite.

  I was a dude. Most people would assume my thoughts revolved around sex and when I could get it next. But for me, sex was in the same category as my diet. If I let myself think about it, and if I indulged in it too often, I wouldn’t get anywhere. Before Kate, it had been easier. Thoughts of getting off with a nameless and faceless woman could be controlled, confined, until the time I wanted to spare half a night to find someone who’d give me a better release than what I got in the shower.

  After Kate, I’d had to develop strong mental muscles to keep from leaving my office at nine thirty a.m. because I knew Kate would be awake and didn’t work until noon.

  Staring at my computer on a Saturday morning, after experiencing the best night of my life, justifying why I hadn’t done just that was difficult at best.

  “All done.” Kate set the frying pan by the sink and carried two platters to the table. One was piled with waffles and the other had the protein that would save me from inhaling the waffles.

  I pushed my computer aside and popped up to get us plates and some water.

  She sat next to me and we dug in.

  “It’s good.”

  She beamed. “Thanks. Mom’s waffle recipe.”

  “How many did she have to make to feed your brothers?”

  “I think she had to make at least five for Randall,” she said with a smirk.

  I chuckled and we ate in silence. Questions that had been pinging around my head wouldn’t leave me alone.

  When she finished and took her plate to the sink, I couldn’t hold back. “What about us now?” Her shoulders stiffened before she turned around. I continued. “I’m not going to be dense and think last night”—my gaze heated—“or this morning, reversed the past.”

  She walked back to the table and I turned my entire chair. I sat at the head and she was on my right. I angled to be closer to her. She did the same with hers.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea to move back in yet.”


  Hurt ripped through my chest and gutted me. I’d laid everything out with her. Tried to show her how much she meant. I’d told her I didn’t want to be dense, but damn. I hadn’t done enough and I was paying for it now.

  She grabbed my hand. “It’s not you, Aiden,” she said softly. I met her warm hazel gaze and clung to the sincerity in her eyes. “This is for me. Because of me. The last four years, I’ve been in this stasis and I don’t like it. I was too timid to speak my mind with you, tell you how I was feeling. I stayed away from my family and friends to keep from speaking out loud the thoughts I’d tried to ignore. I did more of what I’d done in high school and tried to be what I thought I should be.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “But it is. You aren’t comfortable around me.”

  Her lips curved. “Last night helped a lot.”

  I dropped my voice. “I can do more of that.”

  She squeezed my hand. “You’d better.” Her humor faded. “But until I can prove to myself that I won’t get intimidated by everything that comes with your name, or being your wife, I should stay with Mom and Randall. Just a little longer.”

  “Is being my wife the issue?”

  She eased closer until she was off her chair and crawling onto my lap. “No, it’s not. It’s absolutely not.” She brushed her hand through my hair. I groaned from the bliss. Why didn’t she do that more often?

  “I was almost twenty-nine when we married,” she continued, running her hand through my hair again. My eyelids drooped shut. Her touch was heaven. “I should’ve been set in my identity, not some insecure little girl. But after we married I just…” She lifted a shoulder. “Wasn’t really Katie McDonough.”

  “You weren’t happy.” Why hadn’t I recognized this?

  “I wasn’t not happy. I’ve been in a stasis since our honeymoon, but I’m the one that put me there.” She pushed another hand through my hair. “I like being able to do this.”

  “If that patch of hair didn’t stick straight up, I wouldn’t have to gel it.”

  The corner of her mouth tipped up. “It’s cute.” I arched a brow and she chuckled, her butt wiggling on my lap. “It makes you seem human.”

  “My brothers call me a robot.” Their constant jabs about how much I worked and how little I poured my heart out to them got old. I wanted to leave the rest of my thoughts unspoken, but after worrying that she’d moved on, I couldn’t backtrack with her, or myself. “I’m the oldest. I’ve always had the most responsibilities. The highest expectations from Mama and Dad. Sometimes I feel like I raised my brothers, but they’d tell me Dad was around more than I know. He had to be…after I left for college.”

  “And it makes it hard to be a brother when you feel like you’re not quite their brother, but not their parent.”

  I nodded. I wouldn’t have been able to describe it like that, but she’d summed my feelings up perfectly.

  “You loosen up around them a lot more than they realize.”

  I should get better about that too. But first, my wife. “Dawson invited me out for Christmas. Want to come with me?”

  She dropped her hands to my shoulders. “Do you think it’s appropriate?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my family knowing we’re working on our relationship.” I rubbed her thighs through her soft pajama pants. “Bristol would like to see you, and I know how much you enjoy King’s Creek.”

  “I enjoy King’s Creek because of you.”

  “Because I loosen up.” Jesus, what had I been like at home if being a dusty mess and smelling like horse sweat and cattle made me more approachable to my wife?

  “Yes. And because you wear your cowboy boots.” She leaned in to whisper in my ear, her breasts rubbing against my chest. “When you put your cowboy hat on, it drives me crazy.”

  I dug my fingers into her hips and pulled her closer. “Then next time I put my cowboy hat on, I want you to show me exactly how crazy it makes you.”

  Her smile held more than a hint of wickedness and I captured her mouth. Despite my growing erection, I didn’t take it further. I was content to hold my wife and make out at the kitchen table. All my notifications were silent and it was easy to tell myself that I didn’t have twelve hours of work looming ahead of me. Just like having Kate on my lap, meeting her tongue stroke for stroke made it easy to tell myself that divorce wasn’t still an option.

  Chapter 14

  Kate

  * * *

  Sunlight shone through the driver’s side of the window, highlighting Aiden’s strong profile. He wore jeans and the same Princeton sweatshirt from the night we’d reconnected with explosive results. Our winter jackets were tossed into the back seat with our luggage and we were on our way to King’s Creek.

  Aiden and I had met up a few times a week for the last couple of weeks. We’d met for lunch one day. He’d invited me to his office too, but I hadn’t gone. All I could think about was his promise to take me over his desk. As much as I wanted that, I wasn’t brave enough to go knowing it might happen. And that Phillip would know what we were doing. And his dad. So maybe that’d have to stay a fantasy for a while.

  My hands flew as I finished telling him my story. I’d been talking nearly nonstop since we’d left the house, but now that I knew he was not only listening, but enjoying my rambling, I was unfiltered.

  “So then Mom says, ‘Hey, there’s this package for you.’ ” I paused to wait for his reaction.

  He knew damn well what package I was talking about. He slanted a look at me, mischief in his eyes.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I didn’t recall ordering anything but I didn’t think twice about opening it right at the table in front of her and Randall.”

  Aiden broke into a grin. “Oh, no.”

  “Oh, yes, Aiden.” I cut off a giggle. “Oh. Yes. And I see there are books inside, but the thing is, they were packed upside down. So I pull them out.”

  His deep chuckle vibrated through the cab.

  “Randall almost chokes. And I turn the book around to see what’s wrong and there’s a woman with her legs around a guy. The one in my other hand is a woman in a negligee surrounded by four men.”

  “I tried to pick authors you might not have read.” He tried to swallow his smile and failed. “For research purposes only.”

  My insides warmed. Not only had it been a thoughtful touch, it’d been personal. It wasn’t the trendiest perfume in the one-percent crowd. Or a gaudy diamond ring. He’d taken the time to think about what I’d actually like. “To make it worse—”

  “It gets worse?”

  I nod. “Mom says, ‘When you’re done, can I read those?’ ”

  “Sharon reads reverse harem?”

  “She does now.”

  “Randall’s going to thank me.”

  “That’s gross, Aiden. I’ve heard them once already and almost suffocated myself with my pillow trying to muffle the noise.”

  He laughed, then his smile faded. “Are you sure it’s okay you’re not spending today with your parents?”

  “Mattie and Jason are each doing a quiet Christmas Eve and going to their in-laws’, or in Mattie’s case, not-yet-in-laws.” Mom and I had talked before I’d left. I wasn’t sure if I should ask Aiden now or wait to see how the holiday went. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and we planned to drive home Christmas night. I worked the day after. I’d ask now. This weekend wasn’t meant to be a test. “But, um, Mom and Randall want to do a meal on New Year’s. You’re invited.”

  Surprise lifted his brows. “Yes. Sure.”

  Was I glowing? He hadn’t hesitated.

  So far, I’d been doing good on working on myself and how I responded to Aiden. When he had to work, which was still all the time, I made other plans that weren’t picking up extra shifts or sitting at home. I helped Jason with the boys while Sophie was at work. I went to Violet’s school recitals. Aiden had been invited, but he’d been working ahead to prepare for the time off he was takin
g today and tomorrow, and Christmas of course. Except, he’d do some work each day, but he was trying to strike more of a balance.

  I put my elbow by the window. Between commentary on my coworkers’ lives, my interactions with patrons, and thoughts on new books I’d read for work and for fun, I had plenty to ramble about.

  But I didn’t want to ramble more. The shift in the dynamics of our relationship had unearthed more than a few questions and I was committed to asking them. “Why don’t you talk?”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I can fill this entire trip with work stories alone. But you never do.”

  “Your work stories are interesting. Mine aren’t.”

  I loved my job. The library staff. The patrons. I couldn’t quit talking about them, and Aiden was my trusted source for all things normally confidential. With Aiden I assumed I was on a need-to-know basis and I didn’t need to know. No doubt he had confidentiality requirements that extended to the billions of dollars he managed.

  Your work stories are interesting. Mine aren’t.

  I worried my lower lip for a moment before I broached the new questions that had popped into my head. “Do you like your job?”

  “Work is work,” he said automatically.

  I sucked my lower lip between my teeth again. His tone was neutral. Robotic.

  Had his brothers used the term because Aiden had gotten so adept at shutting off his emotions in a job he didn’t care for that it spilled over into his personal life?

  “I thought you wanted to work at the company.”

  He lifted a shoulder without moving his hands off the wheel. “It was expected.”

  A horrible realization sank into my gut as solidly as a rock in a wading pool. “If it wasn’t expected, you wouldn’t have worked at the company?”

  His mouth tightened so briefly that I might’ve missed it if I hadn’t been scrutinizing him for all this new information. “It’s a family company.”

  “Did your dad tell you that you had to work there when you were done with college? Your grams?” I could see Emilia doing that.