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“Very serious,” he replied evenly. “Next time you walk through the dungeon’s doors, you best be horny enough to hump anything that walks.”
“I’m ready to hump anything now.” Her eyes slowly narrowed into slits, her voice growing tighter. “Why wait?”
He trailed a finger over her arm and, as expected, she shivered. So aroused now by the visual, and the refusal of an orgasm, she was wound up tight. Her features instantly heated, becoming dark and sensual. He grinned at her, quite loving the way she reacted to him. “See, kitten, that’s how I want you.” Needing me. Aching for me. Not refusing me. “Burning with desire.”
“You. Are. An. Evil…” He arched a brow, and she huffed. “Fine. Whatever. But don’t hold me responsible for either clawing off your face or jumping your bones the next time I see you.”
He winked. “I eagerly await either possibility.”
Chapter Six
By Tuesday morning, Kenzie wished it was the weekend all over again. She sighed at herself in the bathroom mirror above the white vanity, desperate for a do-over in which she received the BDSM she needed. Porter’s touch was confusing, at best. She kept thinking she should be annoyed that he’d cleverly punished her, leaving her more aroused than she was before she’d entered Club Sin. Somehow, all she could think of was how different she felt around him. How easy it was for him to make her mind shut off in the moments she was with him, simply falling into his glorious touches. How aroused she became in ways she hadn’t before.
If she didn’t know better, she might think that Porter was stealing her heart. She wasn’t blind to how different she acted with Porter. How safe she felt. How much she reacted to his touch. But she couldn’t forget there was the underlying truth between them that this was only an agreement. None of his affections were real. He wasn’t with her because he wanted to be, but because he had an ulterior motive.
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, hating how easy it would be to fall into Porter, and even more so to trust him. His affection confused her, making her feel alive and protected. His Dominance put her in an extremely dangerous position.
Her heart had been broken enough, and it couldn’t manage any more daggers. The wounds were deep and they still bled. Opening her eyes, she scrunched some gel into her curls, then, leaving thoughts of Porter behind, she strode out of the bathroom. She moved past Gran’s bedroom, which Kenzie had made into her reading room. Something she knew Gran would’ve liked. It didn’t have much, just an oversized chair, with pictures of Gran everywhere.
The room was perfect, and it also held the only new furniture in Kenzie’s apartment. A lump began to form in her throat as she strode down the narrow hallway, entering the living room. From corner to corner, it was filled with Gran’s old knickknacks and antiques. Kenzie wondered often if the apartment needed a makeover, since the space didn’t reflect her personality, but so many of Gran’s touches remained.
She moved past the dark leather chair in the corner of the room by the window with the plants on the windowsill, noting to herself to water them later. Her focus drifted to the yellow-and-white afghan that Gran made Kenzie when she was eleven years old, and her steps faltered as she remembered the day Gran gave her that blanket—a day when the second dagger had entered her heart.
The wind flew through Kenzie’s hair as she rocked back and forth on the swing strung up to the big oak tree in her backyard. A year had passed since Joslyn’s death, a long year that seemed to have so many dark days.
She leaned her head back, embracing the wind brushing over her face as the sun beamed down on her. So many days she and Joslyn would swing here, with Kenzie being pushed and Joslyn laughing behind her. Kenzie swore she could still hear that laughter.
A loud bang echoed in the air and all the birds around the house scattered. Kenzie scanned the backyard, not seeing her mother anywhere. A sense of panic washed through her, but at least her mother was home.
Kenzie never told Gran how many times Mom left her alone to go on drinking binges. Sometimes she’d come home and Kenzie would help her get into bed or place the bucket under her when she vomited into it, instead of on the floor. No one knew the life Kenzie now lived. She’d never told anyone about the downward spiral that her mother had gone on after Joslyn’s death.
She dragged her feet along the grass until the swing came to a stop, then pushed off and headed toward the back door. Maybe Mom fell and hit her head, or maybe she was unconscious in the bathtub. A thousand things rushed through her mind as Kenzie entered the house, which was small, but Kenzie had always liked it. She also thought Mom had done a good job raising two girls on her own after Kenzie’s father skipped out on them.
Kenzie entered the kitchen, and only silence greeted her, so she headed down the hallway and peeked into the living room. Her mother wasn’t on either of the flower-patterned couches. Kenzie headed upstairs and passed by Joslyn’s
bedroom, which hadn’t been changed since she died. Kenzie never minded, and often went in there when her mother didn’t know. She swore it still smelled like Joslyn. Then Kenzie strode by her bedroom, where clothes were scattered all over the floor, and she made a note to pick them up after she checked on Mom. Whenever Mom was drinking, something as small as that could set her off. Kenzie hated the yelling. The scent of dust and musk led her to the end of the hallway and toward her mother’s room.
“Mom,” she called.
Silence surrounded her, so she hurried her steps, more worries rushing through her mind. Though as she entered the largest bedroom of the house with the four-poster bed, her mind went blank. Her eyes became frozen on a gun lying on the bed with her mother’s hand next to it. Blood drenched the white sheets, turning them a dark crimson, and her mother’s blond hair was now a deep red.
The metallic scent swept through Kenzie’s nostrils, then all that followed next was Kenzie’s scream.
Kenzie returned to the present drenched in coldness, wishing she could erase that memory from her mind. It seemed permanently fixed there. She remembered when Gran had brought the afghan over to the house shortly after the ambulance and police had arrived. Kenzie didn’t recall what she’d said in her phone call to the police, but she did remember what Gran had said to her: “I had made this for you to always keep you warm and safe. Now I know I made it for you for this day. Let this always feel like my arms wrapped around you, my sweet darling.”
Tears leaked from Kenzie’s eyes as she tore away from the blanket. Haunted, yes, she was at present being haunted by memories she wanted to forget. And it was all Porter’s fault—if he’d given her what she needed, this wouldn’t be happening.
Flickers of anger burned through her as she moved to the kitchen counter and grabbed the coffeepot, filling her to-go mug to the rim. Pushing away the heaviness in her soul, she added the top to her mug and then hurried out of her apartment, scared to look at anything. Maybe it was time to get new furnishings and pack up anything that stirred a memory. Or maybe Porter needed to give her a damn scene that would make her forget.
That seemed easier.
She hurried out the front door and headed down the long staircase leading to her bookstore on the lower level. A sense of peace washed over her as she entered the store, spotting the sun shining through the big windows at the front. While there were many painful memories, there were also so many happy memories in this store. Kenzie moved in with Gran after her mother’s death, and she gave Kenzie a life filled with love.
Her breathing was a little easier now as she approached the counter and noticed an envelope on the oak desk—a letter that hadn’t been there when she closed up shop last night. Confused, she reached for the letter and opened it, and that easy breath was now sucked out of her lungs.
I imagine you know who I am now. Take what I say seriously. There will be consequences. I’ll be expecting your phone call to the real estate agent by tomorrow night.
Kenzie dropped the letter as if it burned her, shaking from the inside out. Not only because she did take Adrik seriously, as it seemed that he had no intention of leaving her alone. Now it also appeared that he had the means to break into her bookstore without setting off the alarm.
