Page 29 of King of Hollywood

Broken, broken, broken.

He needs me.

I can’t kill him.

He needs me.

I can’t.

Not if Felix doesn’t want me to.

It was a horrible, wretched thing to realize that I cared more about Felix than killing the man who had touched him.

The thought shook me to the core as I took a half-step forward and grasped his face in my palm. Felix’s skin was spongy soft and slightly damp from his tears. With need simmering beneath the surface of my skin, I tipped his head up, only sated when I could admire how beautiful his turmoil was up close.

Prettier than hurricanes.

Prettier than morning dew.

Prettier than the brilliant crimson of freshly spilled blood.

“Why can’t I?” I asked, voice soft, my fingers digging into his cheeks. “Why can’t I, sweetheart?”

Don’t say it’s because you love him.

Don’t say it, please.

You’re mine, mine, mine.

Felix shivered, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. His broad shoulders were hunched, like he was trying to make himself appear even smaller than he already was. Gone was the confidence he normally exuded. Like I was seeing—for the first time—the brittle, broken husk that hid beneath his person-suit.

And he was…lovely.

A pitiful, broken, tangled thing.

Felix’s lips pinched into a guilty line.

Don’t say you love him.

Don’t—don’t—

Oh.

And then it…hit me.

It hit me like a pile of bricks.

My cock jerked, butterflies fluttering around in my belly as my heart began to race. Heat coiled in my hips, at the same time I bit back a needy groan. Because I suddenly knew why Felix had said I couldn’t kill his date.

And it wasn’t because he cared for him.

My hand slid from his face, down to his throat, cupping him there to hold him in place.

“I can’t kill him,” I murmured, bending down close enough our noses brushed. My breath mingled with his, and something electric zinged between us. Greedy, greedy, greedy—I needed to hear him say it. Needed to hear him admit the awful, bloody truth as badly as I needed my next breath.

“Tell me why I can’t kill him, Finley,” I pleaded, nudging his cheek imploringly with my nose. Felix groaned. I could feel his Adam’s apple bob beneath my palm when he swallowed. His lashes fluttered shut, as his strong, lovely hands moved to clutch the fabric at my waist. “Tell me why,” my voice was deep and hoarse.

“I…”