Page 103 of The KING Review

“No,” I murmur into her hair. “We’re not doing this, angel. I won’t let you walk out of here on some contrived third-act breakup. That’s not us. We’re not those assholes who can’t communicate. I read the books, I know how it goes, and I fucking hate it. I hate the third-act breakup, I hate the miscommunication and the misunderstanding, I hate the regret. I especially hate the part where I don’t get to hold you.”

I stroke her hair, slow and grounding. My other hand rubs her back. She’s pissed—I can feel it in every wire of her body—but she melts a little more with each pass of my palm down the length of her spine.

“Tell me what I can do,” I whisper. “Just… tell me how to make it better, Neve.”

Her breath is hot through the cotton of my shirt as she groans. “You’re right,” she mumbles, barely audible. “I hate that you’re right.”

“Right about what?”

She mumbles something, words going fuzzy against my chest.

“Hey,” I nudge, voice low. “Right about what, angel?”

She huffs a laugh that shakes us both. “It’s dumb. I knew I was being dramatic, that you didn’t grade me harshly—I think I even knew the grading was anonymous because I’ve heard Cade and Fia talk about it before—but it just… fuck, it felt personal. It felt mean. I know it’s not, but sometimes it’s like my brain just… jumps the tracks.” She swallows hard. “I overreacted.”

Christ. I hate how she’s trying to fold herself into this box society has told her she should fit in. She’s allowed to have feelings. She’s allowed to have every single one of them. Hell, she’s allowed to overreact. It’s a fucking human thing to do. None of us are above that.

I tilt her chin up. “It’s okay. Grading is usually anonymous, but there’s going to be overlap between us while you’re studying here. Just know that you can always trust I’ll be objective about your education. I have to be.”

She nods, nose brushing my shirt. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” I frame her face in my hands, tilting it up to mine.

She pauses, as if searching for the words. “Because I basically accused you of manipulating me, and I know how much that scares you.”

Something cracks open in my chest. I cup her face. My thumb sweeps her cheek. “Hey. I didn’t take it like that.” My voice is rougher than I want, but I can’t seem to smooth it out. “I know you, angel. There’s no version of you that would ever throw that at me just to hurt me. Not ever. I trust you.”

She gives a slow exhale, then lets out this shaky, incredulous laugh.

I study her face. “What’s funny?”

Her hands slide up to fit against my jaw, fingers scrubbing in my beard. “You said, the other night, that you think you’re falling for me.” She shakes her head. “I didn’t mention it—people say shit during sex, you know? But I think I’m falling for you, too, Grant King.”

Everything in me goes still for the first time in as long as I can remember. There’s not a single cell in my body that doesn’t feel this moment. I blink down at her, wild with it, and then crush my mouth to hers.

Her lips are soft, trembling, and she gasps a little when my tongue rolls over hers. When I break the kiss, my forehead pressed to hers, our noses bumping.

“I wasn’t just saying it,” I whisper. “I meant it.”

She lets out a stunned little sound. I want to bottle it. I want to memorize the way she looks right now, flushed and soft and all mine.

I kiss her again, slower this time. My hands cradle her jaw, thumbs stroking over her cheeks, and I can’t let go. She’s trembling, but so am I. My heart goes tectonic in my chest, shaking my foundations. Every word, every look, every quiver of her mouth. It’s all for me. She’s mine.

She’s mine, and I’m hers.

Chapter Thirty-One

Behavioral Exuberance

Neve

The cocktail bar that Fia has rented is all dark reds, velvet, and proper speakeasy styling. My sister, of course, has nailed every detail, right down to the way the place smells: expensive citrus, spilled gin, something woodsy and sweet underneath. There’s a bar cart beside the bar loaded with every liquor under the sun, and a menu of cocktails so specific to Cade’s taste it’s adorable. It’s perfect. I feel like I should be wearing a mask and a sinful silk slip dress.

Instead, I’m dressed as ‘semi-casual Neve’—black tank with a velvet blazer, swishy A-line skirt, and some cute little pink cowboy boots, because why the hell not?

Grant hasn’t taken his eyes off me since we got here—separately. There are few people here who are actually ‘in the dark’ about our relationship, but we’re still trying to be careful. We’ve been talking about how we’re going to go about disclosing our relationship, specifically to the university. Talan is pretty progressive, and relationships between professors and adult students are permitted as long as they’re disclosed via a written and dated letter—I know because I looked it up.

I’ve been waiting for him to be ready to send the letter, but I don’t want to push him.