Chapter 20 #4
“Probably less than two minutes. He follows me everywhere. I don’t even pee alone anymore.
I haven’t been alone in six weeks, and suddenly, the day after we find out I’m pregnant, he doesn’t care anymore.
The day he came to fetch me, I was a mess.
Abel gutted me. He smashed my pinball table to pieces, then took my cell phone charger and the TV remote.
He left me to wallow in the silence, and I hate silence, you know I do.
When Knight knocked on the door, I was broken, and he took one look at me and just said, ‘I’ll help.
’ He ran me a bath, undressed me, and bathed me.
He dried my hair and picked out clothes for me, then he dressed me and brought me here.
I was broken and lost, and he put me back together.
He claimed me, and he takes care of me. For the last six weeks, he’s wrapped me in a blanket and carried me downstairs because he can’t bear to be that far away from me.
He runs a bath for me each morning, he cooks breakfast for us, and we eat naked before we get dressed together in the closet.
But this morning should have been perfect.
The first day, when it is three of us, not just two, and he suddenly decides that the routine he lives by and needs to get through the day suddenly doesn’t matter.
That being near me doesn’t matter. That I don’t matter.
” Tears spill down my cheeks as I struggle to say the last few words.
But it’s the truth. After six weeks of indulgent, constant contact, he discarded me, and all those broken pieces that he put back together have fallen apart again.
The door flies open as Knight storms into the room, his chest heaving. His eyes are burning with more emotion than I’ve ever seen before, but instead of wanting to crawl into his arms, seeing him just makes me cry harder.
“We’re leaving,” he says, lifting me into his arms. “Etta, could you rearrange her appointments for this afternoon?”
“No,” I shriek, writhing in his hold.
“Of course,” Etta says, ignoring me. “And Knight…”
Freezing, Knight turns to look at my best friend. “You need to fix this,” she says, her voice lethally cold.
“I will,” he promises, pushing open the fire exit and carrying me out of the studio and into the alley behind the shop.
Screaming like a banshee, Knight ignores my cries, holding me hostage in his huge arms as he strides toward the car. Carefully placing me in the passenger seat, he fastens my seat belt before closing the door and climbing into the driver’s seat.
“I have clients,” I yell.
“Enough,” he says, not a trace of his usual calm, robotic tone left in his voice.
“You’re an asshole,” I hiss, crossing my arms sullenly across my chest as the car’s tires screech as we pull away from the curb and onto the street.
Neither of us speaks on the way home, Knight’s gaze firmly on the road ahead, while I stare out of the window, silent tears tracking down my cheeks.
When the garage door closes behind us, I reach for my seat belt, but Knight’s hand covers mine, stopping me. “I’ll do it.”
“I don’t need you to do it.” I pout.
Getting out of the car, he prowls to my side and opens the door, unfastening me and lifting me out of the car.
Walking us into the house without bothering to close the car doors, he ignores the couch and carries me straight upstairs, through the bedroom, and into the bathroom.
Placing me down on the counter, he turns on the faucet to fill the tub, then strides back to me, his eyes blazing and wild.
I want to get off the counter and walk away, but I don’t, because I need him, and even though I’ve spent the morning trying to leave him behind, I miss him.
I miss us, and I know it’s only been a few hours, but I feel like I’m falling apart without him and us and this weird, insular life we’ve created.
Staying silent, he undresses himself, then lifts me from the counter and undresses me, rewinding the time to how our mornings usually progress.
When he picks me up again, I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck and cling to him as he steps into the tub and sinks into the water with me wrapped around him.
As the warm water cocoons us, I try to decide what to say, but I can’t find anything that won’t end up with me shouting or crying, so instead I flatten myself against his body and absorb his body heat, feeling settled and calm for the first time since I woke up.
“Up at 0500. Breakfast at 0700. Bath, stimulation, and get ready for work. Lunch and stimulation at 1300 hours. Stimulation and dinner at 1900 hours, then home and bed,” he says slowly, spelling out our days, like he’s reading from a schedule, and he is.
This is our schedule. It’s the timetable that our life runs around, and apparently, what we both need to feel settled and secure.
“Yes,” I agree.
“Yes.”
Shuffling up his body, I reach down and guide his cock to my entrance, sinking down onto him until I’m full. Then I close my eyes and finally relax.