"I know I cannot get it without spilling blood, Lorraine," Leroy said. His hand slid down to the small of her back, fingers pressing lightly, possessively. "And I'm tired of spilling blood. All I want now is to… be at peace. Live with you, like a common man, raising a family on a farm…"
"Farm?" Her lips curved, brushing the skin just below his ear. "You're serious?"
She could understand a little why he wouldn't want to spill blood and fight his way through life. She too got tired often to be fighting all the time.
But a farm? Really? What would he know about farming?
He did not answer immediately, but the heat of his chest, the quiet weight of him, the way his fingers traced slow, deliberate lines down her spine spoke for him.
"Must I be a king for you?" he asked finally, his voice low, intimate, vibrating through the press of his lips to the crown of her head.
Lorraine's breath hitched. What could she say if he put it that way?
