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He cocked an eyebrow. “Fuck, no.”

“But you want me to fill out a marriage form…” I started. “Where we…” I pointed between the two of us. “Would be the ones getting married?” King nodded. “To each other,” I added.

He smiled against my skin and nodded again, continuing his assault of soft kisses on my shoulder and down my arm.

“You do realize that proposing is asking someone to marry you, and that very much seems like what you are doing here,” I argued. King’s cock, still deep inside me, started to twitch back to life, growing and stretching me again, when he brushed his lips over my nipples. His smirk turned downright wicked. His bright eyes danced with mischief.

“We,” King said. “You and me, are getting married. Seeing as how I love you, and I know you love me, and we’re about to have a couple of kids running around the house. But I’m not asking you anything. Asking would give you the impression that you have a say in this. So no, I’m not proposing.” He pulled out of me a little and then pushed back in. I groaned.

“You’re insane,” I said, moving my hips with his, trying to bring him in deeper.

It was the most unfair one-sided non-proposal ever.

And I wouldn’t have changed a thing.

“So I see we really are back to where we started,” I offered as King slammed into me and we both had to pause a second to take in the sensation. I tried not to smile. I tried to pretend to be angry at his marriage demand, but I failed miserably.

I think it was the ear-to-ear smile that gave me away.

“Yeah. We’re back to where it all started,” King said. He cupped my face in my hands and looked deep into my eyes. “And there’s no place in the entire fucking world I’d rather be.”

King started to move again but this time was different. Slower. Less urgent. He rolled his hips and my mouth hung open as I drank in every lingering sensation of his slow thrusts. He punctuated each one with a slight twist of his hips until we were both seeing stars again.

King didn’t tear his eyes from mine when he made me come for the second time. He didn’t look away when he found his release deep inside me either. And as my orgasm began to fade, there was only one thought running through my mind.

I felt free.

With King, I was the me I wanted to be. The me I was supposed to be.

And that girl, belonged to King.

Body and soul.

Chapter Thirty-Five

King

“Bear is teaching him how to snort blow off strippers,” I answered sarcastically when Pup asked me where Sammy was. She playfully punched me in the shoulder. “Ouch,” I said, holding on to my arm as if she were actually capable of hurting me.

Physically that is.

“Okay, maybe the stripper thing was a slight stretch,” I admitted. “But I did leave him with Bear. He’s showing him his bike. I just wanted to come inside and make sure you were okay. You’ve been in here a while.”

“I’ve been in here for two freaking seconds. I was just getting Sammy’s sippy cup,” she said, pushing me toward the door. “Overprotective much?”

“Me?” I asked. “Never.”

Over by the lopsided garage, Bear was holding Sammy up on the seat of his bike. Although he couldn’t reach, Sammy still held out his little chubby arms toward the handlebars. “Vroooom Vroooom.”

“Hey big man, looking good on that bike,” I said, scooping him off the seat and flying him around in the air like he was Superman. He giggled and clapped his hands together. It felt right that he was with us full-time. And according to Pup, it’s good for kids to have a routine. Whatever that meant.

I flew Sammy right into his mother’s arms and I planted a kiss on her lips.

“Eeeeeeewwwww,” Sammy shouted, wiggling in her arms. We both laughed and turned back to Bear. He lit a cigarette and leaned against his bike.

He took a long drag, blowing the smoke out through his nose. Without his cut, wearing just a black T-shirt. The leather and patches were noticeably absent.

It looked as empty as the vacant look in his eyes.

The scars on his cheeks from the night with Eli were still red and visible through his light beard.

“You really leaving?” I asked after noticing that both his saddle-bags had already been packed.

“Yeah, I got all my shit out of the garage. It’s in storage for now.”

“I told you that you can stay,” I said, repeating what I’d told him several times over the last month. “We can make room, move some shit around. We’ve always got room for you, brother.”

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