“The saints?”
“Not one,” he whispers, running his fingers along my stomach as I lay back to rest on his chest. “Not Lady Luck, not Father Time, none of them.”
“Assholes,” I harrumph. “Who else is supposed to be looking out for us?”
“Well, there’s God. But I think I pissed him off before I was born.”
His statement tugs at my heart. “No, you didn’t, Tobias. Just remember, Job was a favorite, and He took everything from him, his riches, his family, everything he had before He plagued him with disease to prove a point to the devil. He put him through hell, so maybe it’s not so great to be God’s favorite.”
“Well, in that case, maybe I am a favorite.”
I run my nails along his legs. “You’re my favorite and the best man I’ve ever known.”
His fingers still.
“After all I’ve put you through, you believe I’m a good man?”
I turn in his arms and straddle him, and he laces his fingers at the small of my back, his brows creased.
“You’re an incredible man. You revealed your true colors when we were together before. In recent years, your actions were mostly due to pain, and you’re still in pain, my love. I’m not going to start pointing out all your flaws because fuck that, I have my own, but the core of you is made of pure gold, and nothing you ever say or do will convince me otherwise.”
Wordless, he cups the back of my head, running his palm down my soaked hair.
“You say you don’t like my perception of you, Frenchman, but my perception isn’t skewed. I love all parts, all sides of you, good and bad. This thing between us is still new. We aren’t going to come out perfect straight out of the gate. But all of you gets all of me, my stubborn King, always.”
His eyes roll down my body, warming me from the inside. “We may not be perfect, but you are.”
“No, I’m not, but I’m over the fact that I’m not going to get my way with you at times. Tantrums need to fall to the wayside at some point for what’s important.”
He bites his lip briefly. “Is it weird to say you sound like Sean?”
I shrug. “Is it weird to say Sean sounds like you?”
He glances down. “Is it weird that people sit in bathtubs full of filth, thinking it makes them clean? I can see scum floating on the top of this water.”
“No, you French prude, but baths are good for a woman who was just bent like a pretzel and jackhammered until she nearly passed out. And don’t knock my housekeeping skills.”
“I’m not, Trésor.” He rubs his thumb and pointer finger together in inspection. “You have absolutely none.”
“Or maybe you’re just too high maintenance.”
He lifts his hips, running his erection along my center, hitting my clit just…so.
“Maintenance appeals to me very much.” His eyes flare, and I shake my head with a grin as he traces my nipple with his finger, bringing it to a stiff peak.
“Tell me something I don’t know, Frenchman.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Anything I don’t know, which is apparently a lot.”
He gathers the hair on the side of my neck and bites down on the skin of my shoulder before soothing it with his lush lips.
“Talk, King. I’m going to look beaten at work tomorrow.”
“You’re not going to work tomorrow.”
“We’ll see.”