Page 43 of Cold Foot King
And she did.
How could she not?
It had been a long time since she’d felt like nothing in the world could hurt her.
The titan holding her wouldn’t let anything happen.
Chapter Eight
Bang, bang, bang!
The sound of gunshots had her sitting straight up in bed.
“I’ll get it,” King murmured, pushing off the bed behind her.
Her heart was in her throat, and she had to remind herself to breathe as she realized it wasn’t gunfire, but someone banging on their hotel room door.
He murmured something low to someone, grabbed a paper bag from their hands, and then told them, “We’ll meet you there.”
The door clicked closed and King returned to the bed, locked his arms on either side of her, and kissed her lips, settling down the last of the fight or flight instincts inside of her. “Wreck’s calling a meeting.”
“Where?”
“Moody Lantern.”
“What’s in the bag?”
“Wreck said Timber got everyone an extra pair of clothes.”
“Yes,” Katrina said, pumping her fist.
She leaned up and kissed King, and he leaned into it for a few seconds before he pushed off the bed. He was still shirtless, and his pants hung low on his hips. Three of the candles had gone out, and as he turned on the lights, she blew out the others. That man was fine, and she really liked how comfortable he was with kissing her.
He looked around the room blearily. “I don’t even know what is happening to my body right now.”
“Headache?”
“No, that’s much better. I feel drunk right now. I don’t think I’ve ever been this relaxed. Your massage was something else.”
“I have magic fingers,” she said, wiggling them in the air.
He gave a wicked chuckle. “Me too. You’ll find that out later.”
The smile fell from her face. Okay, this was the part she was supposed to dirty-talk back, but she was still a little insecure from her earlier attempt and fail. “I…like your wiener. It’s big.”
He laughed hard, and she felt silly.
“It’s like an elephant trunk.”
King laughed harder.
“Are you turned on yet? Do you find that sexy?” Katrina scrunched up her face. “I think I’m not very good at the dirty-talk.”
“Oh trust me, you’re doing just fine.” He pulled folded clothes with the tags still on them from the bag, still chuckling to himself, and she loved his laugh. It was deep, and easy, and genuine, and the sound filled her soul.
Another knock sounded at the door.
King was busy popping tags off of the new clothes, so Katrina offered, “I’ll get it!”