In My Arms You Shall Hide

Chapter 33

Dorian

S ilence accompanies me on the drive home, or, at least, as silent as the drive through Duffey can be. It’s filled with the hiss of tires on the road, the twirl of cars flying by, the engine’s hum, the song of the crickets.

I haven’t touched the radio dial or bothered to sync up my music in three weeks. It makes sense in the morning when I nurse hangovers while heading to work. Two Excedrin and three coffees later, the pounding has subsided, but an ache remains.

I try not to consider the void of what now? My routine consists of waking up, showering, eating, and working. It’s not wholly different from life before, just lacking a joy. Meaning. It’s worse than before her.

I secure a death grip on the steering wheel. My father’s voice jeers at me in the back of my head. He shames what he might’ve called a juvenile reaction to a breakup, and it doesn’t help fight the pain. My standard methods of shoving down and smothering my feelings fail miserably. I’ve done an admirable job in front of my coworkers, but I don’t fool Raney or Cory.

The angel on my shoulder laughs at my obsession. I’m actually looking forward to touching something that belonged to Katherine. Pathetic. How have I fallen so far? Then again, it doesn’t seem all that removed from what I did to keep her for myself in the first place.

Like every night since she’s been gone, I wrestle with myself not to drive by her mother’s house. The police removed me from the list of suspects after connecting her disappearance with Tucker’s death, but Paul hasn’t been declared dead yet, and if the police want to connect his disappearance with Katherine’s, they don’t have to try that hard. I have to lay low and get a grip, if not for me, then for the others.

I occupy my thoughts with a checklist for tomorrow’s manager meeting, mentally filing through all the files that need to be reviewed and the general monthly maintenance of the client database that needs fine-tuning. It hardly works to get her out of my head.

Orange light illuminates from the windows as I pull into the garage. With the oncoming of summer, the days are growing longer. I plan to keep myself distracted for a bit longer before the demon on my shoulder wins out in the end. For now, I need to stay away from anything that reminds me of Katherine before I steal her out of her bed in the middle of the night and ruin everything.

Yet, here I sit, having rushed home to touch one of her ribbons .

I thump my forehead against the steering wheel before sighing and climbing out of the car.

Raney throws open the garage door before I reach it. She’s excited for one reason or another, and I suspect that she and Cory have concocted another plan to cheer me up. I hate to be an asshole about it, but all the card games, homemade food, and Kumbaya won’t take my mind off the situation.

“How was work?” she asks, practically bouncing on her heels as she clears the way for me to step inside.

“Fine,” I reply in a clipped voice before placing my bag on the table.

I inspect her hands for Katherine’s ribbon without making it obvious. They’re empty, and the angel cackles on my shoulder.

“That’s good.”

“I don’t know what’s got you so chipper,” I grumble, walking through the kitchen out into the hall with her at my heels. “I promise you, it won’t rub off on me.”

“Oh, I think you might be surprised,” she tells me. When I throw a scowl at her over my shoulder, she waves toward the living room and grins. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Leave me to what?”

I follow her gesture and storm into the living room. If they’ve set up a stack of playing cards and a bottle of whiskey, I’ll flip the fucking table—

I stop short. Katherine’s sitting on the sofa, smiling meekly up at me, like a dream.

My scowl drops off my face in an instant. The bitterness, the fear of a lifetime apart, the pain, it all falls away.

I should be ashamed that she’s seeing me this way: five o’clock shadow, unkempt hair, and wrinkled clothes. But the relief that washes over me takes any sense of shame with it.

I rush to her. My mind catches up to where my body takes me only when I gather her face in my hands, kissing her deeply. A part of me knows that we’ve only been separated for three weeks, not a lifetime, but given the fervor with which I kiss her, one might’ve thought it’s been longer.

Katherine kisses me back, and her hands clasp at the hem of my jacket. I drop mine from her face only to coil my arms around her, delicately holding her against me. I temper my joy and desperation; I don’t want her to see how crazy I’ve become for her. But any temperance I had goes out the window as I press my lips to her cheeks, her chin, her brow, her nose.

A giggle escapes her: a sweet, musical sound I thought I had lost.

I let out a pained groan as I sink to the floor. I leave my arms looped around her waist and bury my face in her lap.

“I never thought I’d hear that sound again,” I confess against her thigh.

Katherine rubs a gentle circle through my coat between my shoulder blades. I feel her breath tickle my ear. A pang of regret runs through me. I want to be perfect for her, yet she continues to cling to me, unbothered by my state.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” she whispers. “I didn’t want you to suffer like this. It wasn’t my intention.”

“Is that why you’re here?” I ask, lifting my head. “Just to check on me before you go again?”

Fear pierces me before I can brace myself. What if she’s come for only a moment before pulling away again? I let her go once, but I don’t have the strength for a second time.

Katherine lays a feathery kiss above my brow. “Of course not. That isn’t my intention, either.”

I dig my fingers into her blouse, forming fists against her lower back. “I won’t survive,” I declare in a thin voice.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she promises, eyes scanning me. She lovingly runs her fingers through my hair while she traces circles over my face, the soft pads of her fingers slowing over the stubble across my jaw.

My arms tighten around her. A reflexive anger mounts in me against the threat of that pain returning. I want to tell her she shouldn’t have returned if she values her freedom; I won’t let her go again.

But I stop the words from leaving me. She nearly died due to my possessiveness over her. My words to Raney— I’d rather her be alive a thousand miles away than dead in my arms —ring true. I could never imprison her again, and the knowledge that she may leave again feels equally devastating but deserved.

“I came home,” she explains. “I told my mom I’m moving in with you, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

I blink once as shock spreads through me. Home.

Katherine’s beautiful eyes crinkle with her gleeful smile. “I belong to you, don’t I?”

After a second of processing, I lift my head and peck her lips. Then again, and again, speaking between those kisses. “Yes, you are all mine…but I am also yours. I was a fool to think otherwise.”

My girl giggles again, and I can nearly taste the bliss on her lips; I can’t tell where my giddiness stops and hers begins. I can only thank her god for bringing her back to me; if mine had His way, she would’ve been lost to me forever.

I pull away to look at her, drunk off her and overwhelmed by a sense of grace I thought I would never be afforded.

Katherine brings her face to mine, locking her arms around my neck. “Let’s not be apart anymore, okay?”

I nod quickly, too caught up in the moment to process her words before I snake my hand up her back and pull her into an embrace, crushing my mouth to hers. This time, the relief gives way to hunger. She curves over me, gathering fistfuls of my hair.

With our mouths locked together, I fumble with my pants. In the span of only a few seconds, I savor her timid tongue against mine, all of my nerve endings igniting. Once I yank my fly open to free myself, yanking them partly down my hips, I clumsily undo her jeans.

Katherine sucks on my tongue, prompting me to hastily and blindly pull off her tennis shoes and toss her jeans to the side. A more rational version of me would take her to the bedroom to make love to her, but the primitive version of me that doesn’t think—only acts—takes the wheel.

I brace her lower back with one hand and grip her thigh with the other. Carefully, I pull her onto the floor with me, easing her onto my lap and sinking myself into her. I practically crumble beneath her when she moans against my mouth.

I keep a firm hold on her, shifting onto my knees and pressing her back against the base of the sofa. I pin her there against the cushion, slowly pumping into her.

Katherine shudders and trembles against me, and I get lost in her softness and warmth.

“Dorian,” she gasps against my lips as I pick up the pace, thumping her body against the sofa.

Nothing exists beyond her or this moment. My heart knocks against my ribs, my breath quickening, my skin boiling under my clothes. Katherine’s fingers claw the back of my neck, and based on the tickle that ran down my neck, she’s drawn blood.

I stay locked with her mouth through most of it, but the rare glimpse I catch of her face, her half-closed eyes, tells me that she’s just as lost and drunk as I am.

All of my control slips. Pleasure rolls over me as if it has a mind of its own, and my climax erupts from me. I slam into her one final time before euphoria crashes over me.

I shudder once as her arms loosen their iron grip around me. When I lift my head to gather my senses, she’s smiling. Clarity touches me, and I stare at her in my lap, and the reality careens to the forefront of my mind.

I haven’t even removed my coat, for God’s sake.

I let out a long exhale. “I got carried away.”

Katherine giggles again, and I feel it rock through her body. She gently strokes the welts and cuts she’s made on my neck. “I think we’re fine. I started birth control last week.”

“Oh?” I lift a brow and sit back on the floor, holding her steady in my lap. “You thought of that last week?”

“I think I always knew I’d be coming back.”

I kiss her again and murmur against her mouth, “If you think I’m done, you’re sorely mistaken.”

I coil an arm around her and lift her as I climb to my feet. After hoisting her up onto my shoulder, I use my free hand to secure my trousers from falling as I carry her toward the steps. The others have been kind enough to make themselves scarce, but I have the decency to pick up where we left off in an actual bed.

“Oh, my pants!” she cries amid a laugh as I begin up the stairs.

“You’re not going to need them.”

When we reach my darkened bedroom, I lay her out on the bed and begin my long process of worship. No part of her goes unattended to.

We don’t leave that room, even when daylight fills the sky and the house has fallen silent. Once Katherine has climaxed more times than she or I thought her capable, she falls into a deep sleep against my chest. I marvel at how, in only a short time, the estate has gone from being a stranger to feeling like home again.