That seemed to work just fine until the day King brought me flowers. Not only did he bring me a beautiful bouquet but they were purple irises. They were my favorite and out of season¸ so I knew that not only were they expensive, they were nearly impossible to find.
When he handed them to me, I smiled widely. “Oh my God, I love purple irises!”
“I know,” he answered, smirking at me. “That’s why I got them.”
As I was putting them in water, a thought struck me. I’d never told King they were my favorite flower. Which meant Justin must have mentioned it. I let that epiphany roll through me and it made my stomach feel hollow. It seemed wrong.
That hollow feeling grew as the weeks went by and specific details gradually dawned on me. King took me to my favorite restaurants. In fact we went to a lot of the same places Justin took me. I hadn’t noticed at first, but he did it without asking.
He seemed to know everything about me, yet I knew nothing about him. I hoped that by learning more, I could fill that pit that was growing in my stomach and put a stop to the uneasy feeling that remained in the back of my mind.
I needed to talk to someone about it, but I couldn’t share with Katie or Ashley. They knew about my loathing of King from the moment I first met him. If I told them what I was doing with him now, there was no way in hell they would understand. In fact, I was certain they would try to talk me out of seeing him all together. And though I knew they would be right to encourage me to dump him, I couldn’t do it. As perverse as it was, I enjoyed spending time with King now, even as he challenged me.
I was in the kitchen making dinner when he arrived. My day hadn’t gone well and I wanted comfort food.
“Smells good,” he commented as he went to the fridge for a beer.
“Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and corn,” I told him as I washed the bowl I used to mix up the meatloaf.
“My favorite,” he murmured, popping the top on his beer and taking a slug.
“Really?” I asked casually, even though my internal antenna was quivering. It was a piece of information about King that he offered freely. It was a rare occurrence. I had been hesitant to ask him questions like this because I knew it would be the same as admitting I was getting attached.
“Yep.”
“So, if I were going to make a dessert to round out this meal, what would be the perfect thing?”
He grinned at me, his black eyes twinkling as though he thought I were hilarious. “Apple pie. What else would it be?”
I giggled. “Well, it’s a good thing I bought a frozen one when I got the stuff for dinner.” I’d bought it for later in the week but I would definitely make it tonight.
King was silent while I rinsed the bowl and placed it in the drain board. While I dried my hands, I turned to him, leaning a hip against the counter.
He was watching me, a speculative gleam in his eyes. “You wanna make me my favorite dinner?” he asked.
Something about the way he asked the question made me hesitate before answering. “Yes,” I stated softly.
“Why?”
That took me off guard. “I’m sorry?”
“Why do you want to do that?”
I shook my head, even more confused. “King, I don’t understand what you want me to say.”
He deliberately set his beer on the counter and moved toward me. His face was no longer relaxed and content, but something was happening behind his eyes. I didn’t recognize the emotion, but it still made my heart beat faster and sweat break out on my palms.
King wrapped his arms around me, settling my hips against his. “Why do you want to make me something I like?”
Still not getting it, I tried to answer anyway. “Because I want to.”
He shook me gently. “Yes, but why do you want to?”
“King, I don’t understand what you want to know!” I snapped. “What’s wrong with me making your favorite dinner, whether I knew it at the time I started or not?”
He shook his head and sighed. “There’s nothing wrong with it, darlin’. I just wanna know why the idea of making my favorite dinner makes you so happy.”
The entire conversation was strange and annoying. “Dammit, I just want to give you something you like!” I snapped.
He squeezed me tighter. “You do that every time you give me that sweet pussy,” he muttered, his head coming down toward mine.
I smacked his shoulder. “Don’t say shit like that to me when I’m mad at you.” His words made the disappointment feel like a knife twisting in my belly. He talked as though I was just another piece of ass to him.
“What I’m asking, Jena, is why you smiled like I gave you a pair of diamond earrings when I told you that fucking meatloaf and mashed potatoes was my favorite dinner and then asked me what dessert I’d like to have if I had any choice?”
“I want to give you things you like, King. Is that a damn crime?”
“No, but it’s obvious it meant something to you. Why is that?”
I threw my arms up before dropping my hands to shove at his chest. “Because you do stuff like that for me all the time. I like it and I like you and I want to do the same kinds of things for you!”
He grinned at me. “Now, why was it so hard for you to say that?” he asked.
“Because I feel like you already know everything about me! You bring me my favorite flowers, you take me to my favorite restaurants without even having to ask me which I like, and you know exactly what movies I’ll want to watch when we’re hanging out at home. Yet I know almost nothing about you! You evade questions or pretend you didn’t even hear me. So, yes, it did feel like a gift when you finally opened up a little and told me that you like goddamn meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and apple pie, King. Jesus.”
I tried to pull out of his arms, my pleasure in giving him something he’d enjoy ruined, but his grip tightened.
“King-” I growled in warning.
His eyes were pointed down at my face, but I got the distinct feeling he wasn’t really seeing me. He looked as though he was a thousand miles away in his head and it didn’t look like a good place to be.
Then his gaze focused until he was staring right into my eyes and I knew he’d come to some sort of conclusion.
“You like me?” he asked.
I frowned up at him. His tone was surprised, as though he couldn’t believe it. “No, I fucking hate your guts, that’s why I let you have sex with me every day and sleep in my bed every night,” I answered sarcastically.
“Jena,” he growled.
“Jesus, King. What kind of women have you been with that you would think I’d spend so much time with you if I didn’t like you?”
He didn’t answer, just stared at me some more.
The timer went off and I jumped. I tried to extricate myself from King’s embrace, but he wouldn’t let me go.
“I need to get the meatloaf out of the oven before it burns,” I mumbled, tugging at his hands.
He took a deep breath then released me, going back to his beer and taking a pull.
We didn’t speak again as I finished making dinner. I got the pie out of the freezer to thaw and baked it while we ate on my couch. King wasn’t lying when he said it was his favorite. He cleaned his plate twice and then ate a huge piece of pie.
Still, he didn’t talk much the rest of the night. He also didn’t pull me into his side like he usually did. The two feet separating us on the sofa felt like two miles. For some reason, it made me want to cry. Somehow in the past few months, King had managed to infiltrate my defenses so deeply that I felt bereft without his touch.
That scared me. No, it terrified me. I was too dependent on him and his company. He made my body hum with pleasure and he also made me laugh. Now he was pulling away even more. I could see the distance growing between us and it was shocking how much that hurt.
A lump formed in my throat, threatening to choke me, but I swallowed it back. What was I going to do when he finally ditched me? How could I have been so stupid? King wasn’t built for the long term. He never said it, but it was obvious he didn’t want me to get too close.