TWENTY-ONE
I lie on the floor of the ring, exhausted. My breathing is shallow, sweat is dripping down my forehead, and I don’t think I’ve ever been pushed to the limits as much as I was just a moment ago.
True to his word, Hudson did not go easy on me. He gave me three small breaks, each lasting about five minutes, before he forced my ass back into the ring. I’m covered in sweat; I don’t think there’s a part of my shirt and leggings that is dry at this point. And I think he managed to give me a bruise or two.
Not only did I not manage to land a blow enough to even make Hudson wince, but I also couldn’t block any of his. Whenever I thought I knew where he’d hit, I was so wrong that I didn’t even see his next attack.
My ponytail is messy, hair sticking to the back of my head, some on my forehead, and I’m barely able to pull myself back on my feet. Hudson, on the other hand, did not break a sweat. In fact, he looks fucking bored. Like it’s something he’s really bored to do and is just doing it because someone’s forcing him.
It’s insane how good his stamina is, and I won’t even start praising his skills because I’d be speaking for days to no end. Then again, he grew up in this lifestyle, and he’s been trained since he was a young kid.
“Dad, let her breathe,”
Arlo says, stepping into the ring. He’s inspecting every inch of my body, his eyes roaming all over me, ensuring I’m alright.
Hudson scoffs. “You’re too soft on her. She’s an adult, and she wanted this. If she can’t handle this, then she’s not ready to even be in the breathing distance of Simmons and Adams, let alone confront them.”
By now, everyone has left the basement, leaving the three of us here. Becka did stick around to admire Hudson’s training of me, but she didn’t stay for too long once Arlo warned her, although kindly, to leave before he lost his shit. I’m yet to witness him losing his shit, but I think it’d be quite the sight.
Arlo throws a nasty glare at Hudson. “Still, she’s never done this. She needs rest.”
“Rest is for the weak,”
Hudson says, stepping forward. “Besides, we’ve been doing this for what – an hour and a half? I’m pretty sure she can go for another hour.”
“Four,”
Arlo draws out. “It’s been four hours.”
Hudson’s brows lift up, and he hums. “Well, then. Can you go for another hour, Blair?”
“Dad, let her–”
“Yes,”
I nod, cutting Arlo off. He scowls but doesn’t say much more. Instead, he leaves the ring and flops back on the bench nearby, sulking and glaring at his father. At times, he’s acting childish. Then again, he’s only twenty-two, so I shouldn’t be surprised at his immature antics.
Hudson claps his hands. “Great. Now, get in position.”
With a nod, I brace myself.
Over the past four hours, Hudson has shown me a lot. I did my best to remember most of it because it was a little too much information in such a small time frame. He taught me how to stand, hit, and dodge blows. Of course, I couldn’t exactly dodge his attacks, but he claims that men I’ll encounter will never be on his level. I’m praying he’s right and that half of the people I end up fighting will be below him.
He continues to teach me the weakest spots on the human body and that if possible, I should aim for the person’s throat and make my escape. He’s teaching me how to free myself, not to kill. That’s Arlo’s job.
By the time we’re done, Hudson isn’t quite ready to let go. After all, he did promise he’d keep me in the ring until I managed to either block or attack successfully, but even he can tell that he’s pushed me way past my limits. Eventually, he relents and then leaves Arlo and me alone in the basement.
“Are you alright?”
Arlo asks, sitting down next to me. I’m still trying to catch my breath and only manage a small nod. He smiles softly, wiping my forehead with a small towel, then offering me a bottle of water.
I don’t think twice before unscrewing the cap, then gulping down the entire thing as quickly as possible. The water hits my throat, and immediately, the body heat starts lowering down internally. With a deep breath, I toss the empty bottle aside, lying down on the floor.
“I’m fine.”
I mumble, slowly turning my head to the side to look at him. “Is Hudson always this intense?”
Arlo nods. “I don’t know why you chose him instead of me. I would’ve gone easier on you.”
I quirk an amused brow. “That’s the point. Going easy on me won’t teach me a thing, and you know it. So, stop sulking.”
“I’m not sulking,”
he defends, but I swear, I can see a small pout on his lips. “But I would’ve preferred if it were me teaching you.”
“Didn’t you say you’d teach me how to kill Simmons?”
“Yes.”
“Then, we can start that tomorrow.”
“Yeah, with the beating you just received, be lucky if you can get out of bed tomorrow. But once the sore muscles lessen, we’ll start. You can even pick the weapon.”
I frown. “I could just use a gun?”
“If that’s what you want, then sure. I’ll find a good one for you.”
I blink. “What does that even mean?”
“Just means that there are different types of guns. I’ll find one that will be easy for you to use, not too heavy and not too big, but still good enough to get the job done.”
With a deep breath, I sit up, stretching and hearing the slight crack in my back. Arlo’s sitting close to me, almost dangerously close. I can smell his perfume, and if I leaned in just another inch, our noses would be touching.
Breath hitches in my throat when I flicker my eyes to meet his. His pupils are slightly dilated, and the intensity makes my stomach twist. He’s staring at me like he wants to eat me whole, like a predator that’s found its prey, and for the first time in my life, my heart skips a beat at the thought.
I want to be his prey.
“Arlo,”
I whisper, swallowing thickly.
Something flashes behind his eyes at the sound of my lowered voice, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down a few times. His eyes fall down on my lips before he lifts them to meet mine. Shivers dance down my body when I finally understand what I’m seeing.
This isn’t a simple obsession.
It’s love. And it runs deep. It’s maddening, all-consuming, and destructive. He’s not shy to show me, and his expressive eyes tell me everything I need to know. Right now, I’m certain of one thing – no matter how this entire thing ends, I’m not leaving.
I won’t leave the only man that’s made me feel safe, that made me feel like life is worth living.
“Yes, butterfly?”
His deep voice makes my ears ring. A thrilling sensation runs down my spine, and I’m unable to look away from his eyes. The gorgeous blue sea, the light in my darkness, the depth giving meaning to my life. The words spill out of my mouth before I can prevent them, but I don’t regret them.
“I think,”
I pause, swallowing a knot in my throat. “I think you’re my kingdom come, too.”
A deep groan falls from his lips, his body shaking slightly. He’s gripping the towel in his hand, knuckles almost turning white. His hot breath tickles my face, and I don’t even register him coming closer until the tips of our noses touch.
“Blair, please, let me kiss you.”
“Kiss me.”
He doesn’t waste a single second. His hand tangles with my messy, disheveled hair at the back, pulling me toward him by the nape of my neck. His soft lips fall on mine, closing the remaining distance between us. A loud gasp slips my lips at the feeling of his mouth passionately dancing with mine.
He pulls me as close as humanly possible, our chests pressed together. He pours all of his affection, all of his desires, into the kiss, molding his lips with mine. My stomach starts doing backflips, butterflies erupting – fuck that – the entire ecosystem blooms in my chest.
My hands tangle with his hair, softly tugging on it as I allow myself to get lost in the moment. Everything else fades away, the darkness, the voices, and all I can focus on is the feeling of his lips on mine. My mind goes blank, too absorbed in the way his tongue flicks over the seam of my mouth, silently begging for entrance.
I part my lips, and Arlo moans into the kiss. Something in the pit of my stomach twists in the most pleasurable, addictive way at the sound. I swallow his moan, his tongue tasting every inch of my mouth.
Gently, he pushes me back into a lying position, parting my legs with his knee and getting on top of me. He doesn’t break the kiss, his hand still tangled with my hair. The other one travels down to the side of my neck, holding it tenderly.
Yet, the kiss is anything but. It’s filled with everlasting hunger, with the need to consume me and to keep me secured away. His touch, his lips on mine – it all causes a slight moan to slip, and something snaps in Arlo.
It becomes more aggressive, more demanding, and it’s filled with fervor. It’s my first kiss, the first time I’ve ever felt so desired, so loved. And I never want it to end.
Slowly, Arlo breaks the kiss, and I’m already itching to feel more of him. He makes slight distance between us, looking down at me and making no attempt to get off me. Instead, he brushes a strand of my hair behind my ear, looking at me like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever held.
“You’re so beautiful,”
he murmurs. His eyes flicker down to my slightly swollen lips, a possessive, obsessive look flashing in his eyes. “So beautiful.”
Blush creeps up on my cheeks, dusting them in a light shade of pink. A low, teasing smirk tugs on the corners of his mouth, and I want nothing more than to slap it off him, but I can’t move. I’m too transfixed on the way he’s looking at me, on the way he’s making me feel. The embarrassment vanishes, and it leaves me with slight pants, desperately yearning for more.
“Thank you,”
I murmured.
I take a moment just to inspect every inch of his face while comfortable silence falls around us. He has a small freckle on the tip of his nose, and it’s one of the most adorable things I’ve ever seen. His thick lashes are perfectly curled, making me slightly envious. But the roots of his hair need touching up, the black roots blending into the white.
Arlo’s hand comes to my cheek, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on my flesh. Another wave of pure bliss spirals through my entire body, and I’m mesmerized by everything. By his face, his touch, him.
I’ve never felt as safe as I’m feeling at this moment, and I don’t want it to end. Hell, I don’t want to leave his side, ever again. The possessive feeling nags at the back of my head, trying to come up with ways of claiming him for myself.
But one glance at his eyes is enough to tell me that I don’t need to do that.
Arlo’s already mine.
He’s mine, just as much as I’m his. The unspoken words linger in the air, and neither of us seems to want to break the silence. I lean into his touch, and it becomes firmer, a silent promise of him being there. Right now, that’s all I need.
All the reassurance that eventually we’ll make it out of this okay.
The drive back to Hudson’s house is peaceful. Arlo is driving, and silence surrounds us. It’s comfortable, and his hand, yet again, rests on my thigh. The grip isn’t tight enough to hurt, but it’s tight enough for me to feel every single callous of his fingertips.
By the time we arrive, it’s already around midnight. The lights are off everywhere except the main hallway once we step into the house. Silently, Arlo closes the door, locks it behind him, and guides me upstairs without uttering a word. He goes into the bathroom that’s next to the bedroom I’m using, then comes back a couple of minutes after.
“I started a bath for you,”
he mumbles, kissing my forehead softly. “I’ll go grab you a snack while you shower.”
It’s insane how he knows exactly what I need. That, or I stink from all the sweat, and it was his subtle way of telling me I desperately need to be hosed down. Nonetheless, I close the door of the bathroom behind me, strip off the sticky, sweaty clothes, and step into the tub. He added some bubbles, too, and the scent of jasmine and vanilla fills my nose.
I lean back, closing my eyes for a while. The sore muscles relax under the hot water, the anxiety and stress washing off me, even if it’s only for a brief moment. It’s eerily silent, but I don’t mind it. It gives me enough time to think and overthink everything.
The taste of Arlo’s lips still lingers on mine. A taste so sweet and alluring that I’m already yearning for more. Just another little kiss is all I need to get enough of him. At least, that’s what I’m trying to convince myself of.
I shake the thoughts off, focusing on the relaxing atmosphere of the bathroom. I’m not sure how long I’m under the hot water, just looking at a single dot on the tiled wall, mind and thoughts empty.
“Blair?”
Arlo knocks on the door. “The food’s ready.”
I blink and slowly stand up, exiting the tub. “I’ll be right there.”
My hair is wrapped in a smaller, fluffy towel, and I use the bigger one to dry my body. I didn’t bring any clothes with me, stupidly, so I settled for the silky, long bathrobe that’s hanging on the small hook on the door. I tie it around my waist, securing it tightly.
My stomach growls, the scent of the warm food filling my nose when I re-enter the bedroom. Arlo placed the plate with warm sandwiches on the nightstand table, with some candies and water. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at me up and down a few times.
“Jesus Christ, butterfly,”
he grunts. “You’re killing me here.”
A small frown latches onto my face before realization dawns on me, and I blush slightly. I just hug the robe closer to my body, and Arlo looks away. I take a seat next to him, immediately digging into the food. It’s just two sandwiches, but they’re made exactly how I love them, and I can’t help the sounds of satisfaction that leave my mouth.
“I’ll be out tomorrow,”
Arlo announces. I swallow the last piece of sandwich, then turn to look at him.
“Where will you be going?”
Arlo takes a shaky breath, almost as if bracing himself for my reaction.
“While I was making you sandwiches, Dad came, and he found me a way into Nelson’s manor.”
A wave of nausea washes over me. I swallow the lump that forms in my throat and hope to everything that is holy that Arlo doesn’t see it on my face. My eyes flicker down, looking at my feet for a moment or two before daring myself to meet his eyes.
“Oh,”
is all I can muster up to say.
“This is the third time you’ve been weirded out by this. I can’t read your mind. Blair, you need to tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”
Arlo bops my temple with a soft touch of his index finger, his gaze soft and tender whilst he waits for an answer from me. An answer I’m too ashamed to say out loud; something that’s been eating me alive since the first time he mentioned Zoe in my presence. It’s my most shameful thought, and I’m not sure I’m ready for the look of disappointment that I’ll inevitably get from Arlo.
I’m jealous, and that thought is killing me. The girl needs help, as much as I needed it, and there’s someone not only willing to help but with means and resources to get her out as safely as possible. I should be ecstatic that another woman will be helped and won’t be going through the horrors for too much longer.
Instead, I’m a bitter, jealous person. Our situations aren’t the same, but the aspects of mental, physical, and sexual abuse are something we share, something that made Arlo do a double take when he first saw my name in the reports at the prison.
Something that made him come back to me.
The other thing is my connection to Nelson Adams and Paul Simmons – both of which she has, too.
The rational part of my brain tells me that I’m worried about nothing. Images of Arlo’s deep, intense eyes on me from last night resurface, and my heart flutters. He’s constantly reassuring me, telling me he’ll never leave. So why am I acting like a child?
With a deep breath, I open my mouth to speak. Yet, all I do is close my mouth again, unable to speak my thoughts. It’s starting to get overwhelming – the stupidity of my feelings and the fear of being left for someone who’s similar to me are threatening to leap to the surface, and the fear of Arlo’s reaction is the only thing that’s stopping me from letting the words spill.
Gently, Arlo pushes a strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear. His hand lingers on my cheek, the tender gaze not leaving me for a moment. He’s being patient, and it’s hard not to fall for this giant teddy bear.
“It’s just…”
I swallow thickly, trying to form a coherent sentence without making a fool out of myself. “I have these thoughts…”
“What thoughts, butterfly?”
My words are shaky, my voice cracking as I force myself to let the truth out.
“I hate the thought of you helping Zoe because on some level, she’s just another version of me. And I’m scared you’ll replace me and toss me aside.”
Utter and complete silence falls around us.
Arlo’s hand drops from my cheek, and my chest aches at the sudden loss of contact. His eyes don’t tell me a thing – the man has the perfect poker face. He blinks a couple of times, trying to figure out if he’d heard me right.
“What?”
I look away, shame taking over all my senses. Now that it’s out, I can’t take it back. My body shudders at the dark thoughts that slowly slither into my brain, wrapping themselves around me like a snake, squeezing, and almost poisoning my mind beyond the point of coming back.
Arlo’s touch snaps me out of it. He takes my hand in his, pressing my knuckles to his lips. He kisses them gently, letting his lips linger on my skin for a couple of moments. He doesn’t say anything, and I’m getting anxious, waiting for his response.
“Listen, butterfly,”
he starts off, voice soft as he glances up at me, speaking against my shaking knuckles. “I don’t know where the insecurities are coming from, but there’s nothing you should worry about. I’m helping her because I can. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I allowed her to rot away in that place, knowing that I could’ve helped her. However, there’s no replacement for you, Blair. You’re the one I chose; you’re the one I’ll choose, always. In a room full of women, I’ll always find and pick you. You’re not some disposable toy for me, butterfly. You’re someone I’ll spend the rest of my life with.”
My brows narrow a little, the possessive flame inside me starting to grow. “Why would you even be in a room full of other women?”
A small laugh comes from Arlo’s lips, and he lowers my hand from his lips. He’s still holding it, placing it on his lap and stroking the back of my palm with his thumb. An amused smirk lingers on his face, soaking in my annoyed expression.
“That’s your takeaway from all of that?”
He chuckles. “Fine then, I’ll do my best not to find myself in a room filled with women, alright?”
I did hear every word he said, and I’m trying not to let it get to my head. My chest flutters; my heart picks up the pace, beating rapidly against my ribcage. With a small smile, I manage to push the thoughts of Arlo with other women to the back of my head, giving his hand a soft squeeze.
“Okay,” I mumble.
He kisses my forehead, hands wrapping around my waist. Before I know what’s happening, Arlo pulls me onto his lap, and I straddle him, looking down at him. His hands are on my hips, rubbing soothing circles over the silky fabric of the robe.
My hands are on his chest before I slowly move them up, wrapping around his neck. He shudders, his eyes closing for a moment or two. When he opens them, a hint of vulnerability flickers behind the soft gaze, and my heart skips a beat.
“I like having you like this,”
he mutters, voice low. “On my lap, holding you close.”
As if to prove a point, he pulls me as close as possible, not leaving a single inch of space between our bodies. Shivers run down my spine, my throat suddenly getting dry. The depth, the fervor of his eyes, makes me unable to look away. For a moment, I get lost in the bright color of his eyes, seeing my reflection in them. He barely blinks, soaking up the moment.
I’ve never let anyone touch me like this. And when I was touched like this, it was never with my consent. Now, Arlo’s testing the waters, but it’s abundantly clear that I don’t mind him holding me like this. In fact, it feels almost too good.
“Blair,”
he murmurs, my name rolling off his tongue like the sweetest melody, permanently engraved in my chest. His head falls on my shoulder, burying his face in the crook of my neck. He inhales deeply, arms wrapping around my waist. He hugs me tightly, like he never wants to let go.
“Yes?”
I whisper.
“How could you even think I’d want another woman when my perfect woman is right here, sitting on my lap and fitting perfectly against me? It’s like you were made for me, butterfly. To be all mine.”
I swallow, softly cupping his face and pulling him off my shoulder, looking into his eyes.
“Maybe I was,”
my voice is barely above a shaky whisper, my thumbs stroking his cheeks. “Maybe it was some sinister fate that brought us together. But all I know is that I won’t be leaving. I can’t live. In such a short amount of time, you’ve managed to make me feel safer, more protected, and more needed than I’ve ever felt. How could I possibly ever leave?”
His eyes widened a fraction at my sudden admission, his hold on me tightening.
“You can’t take that back,”
he warns. “I won’t let you ever take it back.”
I smile softly and place my lips against his.
I don’t want him to let me take it back, either.