Ruthless King

“No, you haven’t,” she said hastily. “You could never fail me. You . . . you’re perfect!”

“If I was perfect, then my girl would never have a moment’s thought about not being utterly fucking amazing. She’d know she was wonderful because she would see it in my eyes every time she looked at me. She would hear it in my voice every time I spoke to her. She would feel it in my every touch. So no, I am not perfect. And yes, I have failed to make you understand that you are the most wonderful, gorgeous, smartest, sexiest woman in the world.”

Her mouth dropped open.

She had no words.

“But . . . but . . .”

“And the fucking idea that you think you have to change to suit me, that you have to mold yourself into someone you are not to please me . . . makes me so fucking angry I want to wrap my hands around someone’s neck and squeeze them until they can no longer breathe.”

Holy. Crap.

“The only issue with that, of course, is that I would have to strangle myself. And I’m not taking myself out of the picturebecause while I might not deserve you, you are mine. You’re mine to protect, to take care of, to fucking cherish and love. And while I’m an absolute fucking failure, I will improve. I promise you that.”

It was more than a promise, though. It was a vow.

And she still couldn’t seem to find her voice.

“I don’t . . . you said fucking a lot.”

That wasn’t what she’d meant to say. But he wasn’t a man who swore that often in front of her.

Sometimes, he could be quite old-fashioned in his views.

Well, most of the time, actually.

“I apologize. I’m very angry.”

She sighed. “You are? To me, you just look a bit thoughtful. When my father was angry, he yelled, maybe threw a few things, and sometimes he’d grab hold of me and shake me.”

He frowned. “And you’d prefer I did those things?”

“God, no. But maybe you could just tell me. Like, Jilly, head’s up, I’m in a pissy mood tonight, so I’m going to sit in my office and contemplate life. Or I’m horny, come suck my dick. Things like that. Except, you probably wouldn’t say it like that.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. Jilly, have you been worried about coming to me because you don’t know how I’m feeling?”

Finally. He got it.

She nodded. “I don’t want to bother you if you’re busy. So if you’re in your office, I figure you don’t want to be bothered. But you’re always in there or out of the house and I don’t really see you. Not that I’m complaining!”

Urgh, that sounded like she was.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “I thought you were staying away because you were having second thoughts about being with me. I’ve been thinking of all the ways I could convince you to stay with a cold, emotionless bastard like me and the only thing Icould come up with was locking you in my room and fucking you until your brain was mush and you couldn’t move.”

“That . . . well, I mean, that would work.”

He cupped her face with his hand. “All my life, I’ve been raised to be this way. To not get close to people. To not show affection. To keep myself apart. I’ve never been in a relationship before and it seems I am ill-equipped to handle one. In short, I’m fucking everything up.”

“No, you’re not!”

“Jilly, the only place we seem to communicate well is in the bedroom.”

Well. That could be true.

“You were nearly in hysterics because you accidentally broke a vase. You’ve been trying to change yourself to be what you think I need, when I should have made it clear all I want is for you to be you. Crazy, funny, affectionate Jilly is who I need. I want . . . I want you to bounce your way into my office and tell me about some crazy idea you’re having. Or for you to sit on my lap and tell me it’s time to come eat or relax. To make it clear that you need me so I can lay you out on my desk and eat that delicious pussy. I don’t want the Jilly who holds back out of fear of doing or saying the wrong thing. Who moves around this house like a ghost for fear of disrupting the dust that’s been sitting there for centuries.”

“There’s no dust! Gerald would never leave dust anywhere.”