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“You can’t run from any of this. It’s going to follow you.” As he said that, he wondered if that advice was something Kenzie needed to hear, not only about Adrik, but maybe about what she fought in her soul. “That said, this is your decision, kitten. Not mine. What do you want to do?”
“I want to wait,” she said with the conviction he was used to hearing from her. “I want to see how this all plays out. And I really don’t want to make anyone angrier than they already are.”
Christ, he found himself trapped in her confident expression. Some women would be cowering with all this going on, but Kenzie took it all in stride. While he appreciated her strength, it also made him wonder how she’d become so strong. Only a person who had been through some hardships would be this determined to remain tough and not show understandable moments of weakness.
He yearned to be that source of strength for her, and to experience her letting him help her. More than anything, he ached to have her depend on him. And that one thought made him realize the depth of his feelings toward her. “Then we wait.” He moved to her fridge and grabbed two cans of soda before turning to her. “Got any munchies?”
She pointed to the cupboard by the fridge. “That’s it? No big, bad Dom arguing with me?”
He grabbed out the ketchup chips. “Yes, we’ll wait until you’re ready to go through with this all. I’m not in any rush.” As odd as it was, he had the sense he wanted to be there for the long run. “This is your life and your situation. But just know, if you’re in danger, that means I’m staying.”
An idea he liked. The longer this went on, the more time he had to figure her out. While he’d never say he was happy that she was in danger, he liked that he got this deeper insight into her that he wouldn’t have gotten simply playing with her on the weekends at Club Sin.
“Okay.” She smiled. “Who knew you could rein in all that testosterone.”
“You’ll find I can do many things, kitten.” The small signs of trust building between them pleased
him. It brought renewed hope. “I would think you would know that by now.” The way her eyes flared sent heat rushing through him as he gestured down the hallway. “Up for some mindless television and junk food?”
All that arousal burning in her features vanished in a second. “In my bed. Together?”
He sighed. Sometimes he didn’t mind the fight. Other times, like now, especially after seeing the man who attacked her tonight, it drove him mad. He ached to be close to her, keeping her safe. Not allowing her to push him away now, he moved toward her, seeing her eyes widen at his approach. He understood her reaction—of course he did. He knew why this all unnerved her, as having a man in her bed was something that he doubted she allowed often.
Kenzie played only in the dungeon. Intimacy seemed so foreign to her.
The warmth of her body enveloped him, and he lowered his voice. “On some things we can negotiate. On other things, we can’t.” He tugged on her hair, enjoying how her breath hitched. “This is one of those things.”
“But…”
He lifted a brow. “Go to bed, kitten.”
To his great pleasure, she did.
Chapter Thirteen
Kenzie jolted awake, staring at her clock on the nightstand. Three o’clock glowed through her dark room. She took a quick look around, wondering what had woken her. The hard body pressing against her back came as an instant relief. She rolled onto her side, discovering that she was sleeping in Porter’s arms in her queen-size sleigh bed. They hadn’t fallen asleep that way, and she couldn’t quite recall how she’d ended up in such a loving hold with him.
They had watched a pawnshop television show filmed in Vegas, pigging out on chips, and Kenzie realized she must’ve fallen asleep. She didn’t remember Porter turning off the television, nor did she remember being gathered into his arms. Porter being there settled the racing of her pulse. She wasn’t alone, and right now that felt so damn good.
She watched him sleeping soundly. He was a strong guy, always tough in nature and commanding the space around him. Now he was none of those things. Her smile came swiftly and her fingers tingled to reach out to stroke the side of his cheek, maybe even touch the plumpest part of his mouth that was parted as he breathed deeply.
Startling her more than her urges to touch him was the realization she had fallen asleep without being haunted by painful memories. For the first time in longer than she could remember she didn’t feel that sense of loneliness with Porter there.
That sent a cold bite of terror through her.
She couldn’t start needing him, like she seemed to now. Nor could she completely trust him, as it seemed she was beginning to. She knew deep hurt. It had been cemented into her, and she remembered a time when she loved someone enough to let her in. She also reminded herself how much it broke her when she was cast out.
The rainy afternoon kept Kenzie inside all day, and as she sat on the couch, a sudden urge to put on her shoes and run away from it all overtook her. She wondered if every ten-year-old had thoughts of leaving her life behind, but somehow she doubted it. More than anything, she figured that most young girls were happy.
Kenzie forgot what happy felt like.
Mom had come home an hour ago, drunk and vomiting all over the floor. No matter that Kenzie cleaned the floors, the smell seemed stuck inside and even opening the windows hadn’t helped. Most times the smell took a good day to completely leave Kenzie’s nose.
She would never become the woman her mom was now. That broken. That drunk. As she lowered her hand, she heard a creak coming from upstairs, so she left her spot on the couch where she was reading. Silence surrounded her as she journeyed up the wooden staircase and found her mom lying on the bathroom floor with her cheek pressed against the tile.
“Mom,” she said softly.
Bloodshot eyes met Kenzie, and she’d never seen a look like that on anyone. So much anger lived there. So much hatred. “It should have been you.”
