Page 59 of The KING Review

My mouth is bone dry. I’m sure if I opened it, dust would puff out. I can only quirk a brow in question.

“Honestly, I don’t know how anyone expects us to concentrate at all in these sessions. Half the women in my class spend more time talking about you than the actual assignments.”

I freeze. “What?”

She grins. “Don’t pretend you don’t know. They all think you’re hot, Grant.”

“I…” The words are marbles in my mouth; I can’t spit them out.

Neve grins. “You heard me. It’s like, you walk in, and suddenly nobody cares about therapy or their fake patient scenario because all anybody can talk about is how you’re straight-up sin in a dress shirt. It’s a problem. For me, specifically.” She tosses her hair, and it’s like watching fire in motion.

My face goes hot. I want to laugh it off, but all my nerves are shot. “Pretty sure they say the same about Cade. Or about Fia. I’ve heard the rumors. The Fia-Fucker Fan Club.” I shudder even as I say it. It’s gross.

She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure they do—and it’s wrong—but it doesn’t bother me the way it bothers me when they say it about you.” She bites her lip. “It drives me insane. Like, I get this feeling in my chest, and I want to throw something, or… I don’t know. Bite you. Mark you.” She laughs, bright and brutal. “It makes me so fucking jealous, no matter how crazy that is.”

I stare, and the world narrows down to just her, all color and hunger and wild, impossible want.

“You want to bite me?” My voice is rougher than I mean. I’m not sure why that’s the specific comment I’m focused on. Maybe because I want it as bad as she seems to.

I want to give in.

Instead, I try for a joke. “I’m not sure if I should be flattered or terrified.”

“You should be both.” She swallows hard. “I want you all to myself.”

My heart’s gone wild, a trapped animal in my ribs. I want to say something calm, something intellectual, but all that comes out is, “Come here.”

Neve freezes, eyes wide, lips parted. For once, she’s caught off guard. I watch her flounder, pink blooming along her cheekbones as she blinks at me. “What?”

“Get over here,” I growl, sharper, no room for argument. “Now.”

She stands slowly, like she’s not sure if this is a bit or an actual command. Those gold eyes flick up to mine, searching, but I don’t break. I’m done fucking around. I want her here.

Now.

Neve pads closer, still limping ever so slightly on her recovering ankle—moon boot and all—and I open my legs, patting my thigh. “Sit.”

She hesitates. She’s always the one in control, always pushing, but not this time.

“Grant,” she whispers, cheeks blazing.

I just stare her down until she finally obliges, swinging a leg over my thigh and settling down. Her core presses flush to the muscle, body tense and wanting even as she pretends she’s not dying for it.

I curl a hand around her hip and drag her closer, grinding her against me. The heat of her is immediate. A tremor goes through her, and her nails dig into my shoulders as she steadies herself.

“You think I let anyone else do this?” I rasp against her ear. I grind her down again, slow and hard, so she feels every ridge of my thigh through her jeans. “You think anyone else gets to see me like this?”

Her breath hitches. She clutches at my shoulders, knuckles white. I’m fucking drunk on it—the power, the need, the way she melts against me when I take the reins.

“No,” she whispers. “I’m glad they don’t.”

I groan. “Look at me, Neve.” My voice is rough, unrecognizable. “You drive me insane. Nobody else gets me like this. Nobody else makes me feel like I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t get my hands on them.”

She moans, hips rocking on instinct, all pretense gone. My leg is soaked from her heat. I want to rip her jeans open and fuck her right here.

“You like this?” I taunt, fingers digging into her ass as she rides my thigh. “You like knowing you’re the only one who makes me feel insane like this?”

She nods, eyes wild.