Well, waiting until morning was out of the question then.

King stopped, frowned, looked to me, looked to Oliver, then looked back to me again. He wore an expression of disbelief, like maybe he’d been hearing things. I was sure I was wearing a terribly guilty expression.

Looking at the floor, I said, “Sorry, uh, I might have told him that you’re his dad.”

He let out a nervous laugh. “Okay. All right. Eh, that’s…that’s….”

“It had to happen sooner or later. Might as well bite the bullet.”

“I’m not annoyed with you, Alexis.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t think you were. I just, maybe I should have talked with you first.”

He stepped forward, placing his hand on my shoulder. “I’m fine. I’m more than fine. Relax.”

His words worked to calm me. “Do you want to read to him again?”

“Sure.”

I left them to it and went into my room, taking deep breaths. For a second there I was certain I’d fucked up. I lay down on the bed and tried to focus on reading the paperback I was currently working my way through. After about twenty minutes, I looked up to find King standing in my doorway. We locked gazes, and a pregnant silence fell between us.

“I should go,” he said at the same time I blurted, “Stay the night.”

Ugh, why was I being so awkward? King shot me a cocky grin, so I threw a pillow at him. “Don’t give me that face.”

He moved farther into the room and asked coyly, “What face?”

“That one.” I pointed. “The face that says you think you’re the shit. I hate that face.”

He was at the foot of the bed when he countered, “You love this face.”

“Okay, I’ll adjust my statement. I love your face. I hate your expression.”

He shook his head. “Nah, I’m pretty sure you love my expression, too.”

He was leaning over me now, climbing onto the mattress and levelling his hands on either side of my head. I was about to say something clever, but it immediately fled my mind when he kissed me. His tongue swept into my mouth, and all I could do was moan.

“Thank you for telling him,” he breathed as he broke away to kiss along my jaw, moving down to my neck. I strained beneath him, hands going to his shoulders. Everywhere his lips travelled, they left tingles in their wake.

“I thought you might be angry with me for a second.”

“I wasn’t angry. I was just taken aback. He called me Dad.”

“Well, you are his dad.”

He was lower now, his face levelled with my boobs as he nuzzled into my cleavage. “Yes, I am.”

I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate on the trajectory of our conversation rather than the fact that his nose was brushing against my ever hardening nipple.

“I’m not gonna lie,” I said breathily. “He got a little upset when I told him. Not because you’re his dad, but because he thought you might go away again.”

King paused to look at me, his face serious. “And what did you tell him?”

A beat of silence elapsed as I swallowed. “I – I told him you were here to stay.”

His eyes held mine for a long moment before he nodded, “Good, because I am.” And then he licked his way across the top of my breast, and my brain turned to mush.

***

The following morning, I woke up to my alarm clock bleeping loudly at six-thirty a.m. King was spooning me just like he had been the day before. His body was hard and warm, and I really didn’t want to leave. Duty called, unfortunately, and I sat up in bed, which solicited a groan from him.

“Where are you going?” he asked groggily.

“I have work. Go back to sleep.”

Despite my order, he sat up and ran a hand through his hair. The sheet fell to his waist, revealing his bare torso, and I had to use a good lot of willpower to look away. We’d made love well into the early hours of the morning, and I could still smell him on my skin. God, how I wanted to crawl back into bed and spend the entire day there, just the two of us.

“Could you drop me off at my apartment?” King asked, surprising me.

“Uh, sure.” I didn’t ask why he wanted to go there, but I took it as a good sign. I gathered my things for the shower and made my way into bathroom. I’d just turned it on and stepped under the spray when a large, warm body joined me.

Best. Shower. Ever.

Elaine arrived to take care of Oliver, and I drove us into the city, dropping King off at his old place first and then heading out to the office. It was a busy day, and though one half of me really wanted to go straight home and put my feet up, the other half wanted to go get King. I liked having him in my bed, in my home. In fact, if I had my way, he’d be moving in with me and spending every single night there. I knew not to push him, though, knew I had to take things one step at a time.

It was just after six when I parked outside his building and went in. He buzzed me up, and I took the lift to his place to find him sitting by his piano, sheet music everywhere and an electric sort of aura about him. The very sight caused an exhilarating tremor to go skittering down my spine. I took a peek at the pages, noticing a lot of them contained his own handwriting, musical notes scribbled down in pencil. Was he composing something?

He started to play a gorgeous melody, and I went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

“Do you mind?” I called.

“No,” said King absently. “Go ahead.”

I found a small box of peppermint that Elaine must have left there and turned on the kettle. When I returned to the living room, King was still sitting by the piano, practicing.

“So, you’re playing again?” I asked tentatively as I lifted the cup to my mouth and took a sip.

King’s eyes were alight when he turned his attention to me. I swear they almost glittered, and I could tell his mind was racing. The creative muse was upon him.

“Yes, the music, it’s, well, it’s pouring out. The focus is liberating. I’ve barely stopped all day.”

What he said concerned me. “Have you eaten?”

He furrowed his brow as if trying to remember. “I think I ate some toast at lunchtime.” Well, that was a lie if ever I heard one. Pulling my phone from my bag, I quickly dialled my favourite Chinese takeaway and put in an order. With that done, I stood in front of the piano and levelled him with a reprimanding look.

“You have to eat, King.”

He reached forward to cup my cheek. “I will. Don’t worry, darling. It’s just that I get so absorbed when I play that I forget everything around me, and it feels like there’s never enough hours. What Rachmaninoff once said was true: Music is enough for a lifetime, but a lifetime is not enough for music.”

“Yeah, well, what Selina Kyle once said is also true: A girl’s gotta eat. I think that goes for boys, too,” I told him with a wink.

He grinned. “I don’t think Catwoman can trump Rachmaninoff, darling.”

Oh, I could have smacked him right then for his superior little tone on “darling.” Somehow though, it made me grin. Any signs of his old self always made me grin. They mixed in with his new self to create something I loved so much better. Anyway, I didn’t bother to retort, because I was far too curious about the sheet music. “Have you been composing?”

His expression turned guarded, but he answered me anyway. “Yes.”

“Will you play some of it for me?”

When his body stilled, I knew I’d made him uncomfortable. “I’m wary,” he said and then paused, his eyes meeting mine. “Don’t get me wrong — you’re the one who inspires me, but I just don’t want to fall into the trap of playing for praise. That’s what I used to do before. I worked so hard so that people would respect and look up to me, praise me for a job well done and tell me how bloody fantastic I was. Then when I lost it all, I felt like I had nothing left to live for. I want this music to be something I do because I love it, not for the sole purpose of being the best.”

“That’s understandable,” I said, coming and taking a seat next to him. “I want you to do what makes you happy. And if you never play for me or for anyone, then that’s fine. So long as it’s what you love.”