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35
Knight
I carry her inside my private elevator, her arms and legs wrapped around me. She has her face buried in my throat, and I know it’s because she’s too embarrassed to meet Rudy’s gaze. She has nothing to be ashamed about.
Rudy served in the military. I met him at an event for veterans I attended before I left on my mission. We hit it off at once.
When I returned from my recent misadventure, I found out he was looking for a job. He's a good man. I immediately contacted him to offer him the position of my chauffeur. It’s a far cry from the tanks he used to drive on the front-line, but there’s no one else I’d trust with my life more than him.
I wanted Adam to come work for me, but that was a no-go. He's not going to set foot inside an office, if he can help it. He much prefers to work outdoors. He wants to use his hands. Wants to feel the roughness of sand between his palms, of grit under his fingernails as he labors under the sun and in the cold. He wants the satisfaction of building something from the ground up, he said.
He also wants to spend time with his wife and daughter. He's fond of reminding me that tomorrow is never promised. After being away so long, he doesn't want to waste time. They need him and he wants to be there for them. In a sense, I don’t blame him.
In fact, I envy him. The man has a family he cares for, a wife and daughter he loves for whom he’d do anything. Also, he doesn’t have the weight of his father’s company hanging around his neck. He doesn’t have this driving need to prove something to the world. He isn’t driven by revenge or the pull to self-destruct. He hasn’t yet made his peace with what happened, but he doesn’t let it rule his present. He's following his instincts and doing what he feels he needs to do to heal himself and his family.
And me? I don’t want to heal. I want to keep the frustration from what happened fresh so it can fuel this intense rage inside me. The only time I feel calm, the only time I allow myself to feel peace, is when I'm with her. It’s why I brought her back home.
I carry her inside the kitchen and place her on the island. When I pull back, she refuses to let go. I kiss her nose, her eyelids, each of her cheeks, then brush my mouth over hers. Tiny bumps against me, pushing me deeper into the space between her legs. My swollen shaft stabs through the crotch of my pants and into her core, and she moans. I swallow down the sound, then drag my tongue across the seam of her lips. She tilts her head up, and I deepen the kiss. I stab my tongue inside her mouth, wrap my arms about her, and pull her in until her breasts are flattened against my chest.
Tiny shuffles against me, then whines.
I manage to release her mouth and push my forehead into hers. "I need to feed him."
"You do," she murmurs.
"You need to release me."
"I don’t wanna."
I smile; so does she. We look into each other’s eyes, and a warmth invades my chest. For the first time since I returned from being held captive, I feel alive.
Then Tiny plants his butt down on the floor and barks. She looks at him. "Poor baby, he really is hungry."
I frown.Am I really going to be envious about the tenderness in her eyes when she talks about the mutt?
She notices me glaring at her and widens her gaze. "What?"
I shake my head, then step back so she has no choice but to release her hold on me. I miss her instantly, and fuck me, but this is not something I counted on. I brought her home because… No way, was I going to allow her to be anywhere else today. And now that she’s here, it’s clear she belongs here at my side, and it’s evoking emotions I’m not sure how I feel about.
I stab my finger at her. "Stay." Then pivot and head for the shelf where I stock the dog food. I top up Tiny’s bowls with the chow and water and can’t resist scratching him behind his ear before I turn and stalk back to her. She’s looking at me with a slight smile on her face, and there’s this look in her eyes, something that makes the back of my neck heat. "What?" I growl.
She shakes her head.
I prowl up to her, then plant my hands on either side of her thighs on the counter. "Something you want to tell me?"
"If I do, you won’t like it."
"Try me."
She places her hand over my heart, and my breathing grows shallow. My balls tighten, and fuck me, never has anyone’s touch affected me like this. "You’re a good man, Sir. A tough man. A man who’s been through a lot and who’s still standing and taking life one day at a time. Your strength, your protective instincts, and your need to do the right thing is the sexiest thing about you."
Jesus, this woman.Her words cut me to the bone like a laser saw. I straighten, then laugh without humor. "You have no idea what you’re talking about. You don’t know me. If you think I’m intent on doing the right thing, you’re mistaken."
"I’m not. However much you insist otherwise, I know the truth. I see you, Sir. I see you more clearly than I see myself and that’s"—she looks to the side, then back at me—"that’s scary as hell."
Me, too, Little Dove. I’m fucking scared about what this feeling is that grows between the two of us only, I’m too scared to say it aloud.Instead, I cup her cheek and drag my thumb over her lower lip. "Not as scary as the things I’m going to do to your body."
She flushes, and her pupils dilate. The pulse at the base of her throat speeds up, and everything within me insists I throw her down on the ground, part her thighs, and bury myself inside her hot, tight cunt. Instead, I hook my fingers into the neckline of her camisole and tug.
