Page 94 of Twisted Knight

TWENTY-EIGHT

Holden

You’re a fucking liar.

Was that meant about you or about her, Knight?

Huh?

Who’s the one sitting in his car staring at her house long after he left? Watching the lights go on and off with her perfume still clinging to his skin and the scent of her pussy still on his hand?

This is not supposed to be anything.

She is nothing more than a way to dig the knife deeper into their backs. To stake a flag on a mountain because you laid claim to her like she is a piece of property.

But tonight happened. The bar where I was supposed to simply annoy. The bathroom that she came charging after me in. The diner where I shouldn’t have taken her.

Her bed where I was supposed to fuck her but feel absolutely nothing in turn.

This was a game. This is a game. One where there can only be one winner. Me.

Then why can’t I get her eyes out of my mind? Why did I want to stay when I should have been gone the minute she hit the bathroom? Why am I already planning on proving how she can’t resist me?

Because fuck if I can’t resist her.

Not after earlier.

Not after just now.

Lock it down, Knight. Fuck her to fuck her. Fuck her for the pleasure. Fuck her for the revenge.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

And yet I still sit here in the early morning hours staring at a house because a woman is inside it. A woman I can still feel beneath me and wrapped around me.

It’s the hard-to-get thing, right? No woman has ever kicked me out of her bed. That has to be it.

But lies are only good if you’re telling them to someone else.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Talk about complicating fucking matters.

Talk about making the gray the darkest fucking shade it can be.

TWENTY-NINE

Holden

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO

“Mason! Help!”

I hear the words yelled.

Over and over.