Chapter 9 BELL
BELL
My body aches under the hot spray of the shower, some places even stinging from the scratches marring parts of my skin. Bruises are already blooming, and probably the sorest parts of me are my lips and nipple, where the fucker bit me last night.
My pussy is a whole other story. She’s swollen from the beating she took, and hell, it’s the best feeling. I even love the burn I get from the slight tear when I pee.
I’ve been hiding in here way too long, anxious about seeing Kit after the things he said last night.
He claimed me. Like a barbarian. Like we live in a world where that’s acceptable.
So why do I get stupid butterflies at the thought?
That’s barbaric on its own, because this can’t happen. Kit and I can never be a thing.
Hell, what we did has already crossed the line.
We fucked three times after the initial first time, and that was after a deep throat and a fisting session.
Hell’s bells, did all of that really happen?
He’s a fucking savage, and he matched me in every way.
Every time I went to get out of his bed, he wrestled me back in and proved that he has the power to claim me all over again.
I tried to point out that just because he’s physically stronger than me, doesn’t mean he wins, but the guy is delulu, that’s for sure.
I didn’t mean to fall asleep in his bed. That’s one thing I try to avoid when I hook up with guys, but one moment I was awake, having just come, and the next minute I was out like a light, only waking when the sun had risen and his side of the bed was empty.
I found my bag in the room at the foot of the bed. He must have fetched it while I was sleeping, although I don’t know why. But I decided it was easier to shower in his bathroom instead of carting my stuff back down to the second floor with my thighs painted in his dry cum.
Shit. He really is a filthy fucker.
Who knew?
The smell of bacon has me hurrying, and I get out of the shower, drying off and dressing in another black summer dress, this one with little green skulls on it.
Grabbing my bag, I leave his room to go in search of the bacon… because… it’s bacon, and I descend the first flight of stairs, wheeling my bag back into the guest room.
As I start down the second flight of stairs, my heart starts to race in my chest, and I rub at it feeling unusually nervous.
Shit… Bell Bishop doesn’t get nervous. What the hell is going on?
Jesus fucking Christ. If Tillie was here right now, she’d read my betrayal all over my face.
I bet she’d hate me. Hate that I took my toxic traits and lured her big brother with them.
Shit, is that what I did? I can’t even remember who made the first move. Everything after putting Libi to bed is a blur.
It has to be a post orgasm haze type of thing. Like weaning off a bender or getting hit with a hangover after a big night of drinking.
Apparently, I have a Kit Hall hangover, and I’m not sure how to feel about it.
Downstairs, I find Kit in the kitchen, standing at the stove as he cooks, wearing only a pair of grey shorts, his top half completely bare.
Shit. His tanned skin and ink combination has my mouth watering to lick him.
Maybe I should go back upstairs, get my bags, and leave now.
“Libi!” Kit yells from the stove, his booming voice startling me, and he gasps at my gasp, spinning to face me.
“For fuck’s sake, Bell. Stop fucking sneaking up on me.”
I roll my eyes, thankful for his typical banter. “I didn’t. You’re just deaf because you’re old.”
A wicked grin crosses his face. “Oh yeah? Old didn’t seem to bother you last night.”
Shit. He has a point. Old really didn’t bother me. In fact, old, or his version of old, was a goddamn blessing.
There’s something to be said about experience.
His eyes flick over my shoulder to the staircase. “Libi! Breakfast!” he calls, and I cringe.
“Maybe she wants to sleep in.”
For a long moment, he stares at me like I’m an idiot. “She’s five. Never has she slept in and never does she take her time coming down for breakfast.”
Well, don’t I feel like an idiot.
“My bad. I’m not that familiar with the daily life of a five-year-old.”
His expression softens. “Sorry. I’m not really a morning person.”
I cringe. “That must suck when you have a kid.”
He scoffs. “You have no idea.”
Turning back to the stove, he turns off the burners, and I round the counter, taking a peek at what he’s cooked up.
Yum. Bacon and scrambled eggs.
His eyes flick to me, and a smirk tugs at his lips as he starts to dish up the food. “You look well fucked.”
Jesus, is it hot in here?
“You too,” I say awkwardly, and holy hell, when have I ever been awkward?
“Thanks for grabbing my bag.” I change the subject, clearing my throat. “I put it back in the guestroom.”
He stills, his blue eyes snapping to mine. “Well, you can go and move it back into my room.”
I scoff. “Unlikely.”
Putting the pan down, he faces me fully, crossing his arms over his chest as he pins me with his glare.
“Was I unclear last night?” He growls, his brow pinching in the middle, clearly unhappy at this conversation.
Wait… was he serious last night?
“That was Santa,” I point out, crossing my arms over my chest to match him. “We were playing.”
Slowly, he shakes his head. “I am Santa, and we may have been playing, but I don’t fucking make up shit like that.”
Oh… Shit. He really was serious.
For a few long beats, we stare at each other, neither of us willing to break the battle of wills first, but I need to say something. This weird obsession with making me his has to stop.
“We can’t do that,” I say, studying every micro-shift in his expression.
“Why?” he snaps, and I roll my eyes, kinda figuring it was obvious.
“Tillie,” I remind him, and he shakes his head.
“She will get over it.” He drops his arms from his chest and turns back to finish serving us.
“I don’t think you know your sister too well if you think she’ll be alright with this,” I snap, and he snaps right back.
“Why the fuck not? Why would she have a fucking problem with us?”
Is he serious? Does he not remember who he’s talking to right now?
“She knows me, Kit. Too well.”
“And?”
“And?” I throw my hands up and huff. “She knows my preferences, Kitty. I imagine she wouldn’t want my emotional damage tainting you.”
At the use of Kitty, he turns a hard glare my way, looking more lethal than I’ve seen him before.
Damn him. I like that look. I wonder if he’d hit me if I begged him to.
“Maybe you don’t know my sister that well at all, Bell. She loves you. She’d never think of you like that.”
“Have you forgotten where I came from? How I grew up? What I did to survive that?” I ask him, taking a step back as my anger rushes to the surface at even letting myself slightly remember my upbringing.
“In my experience, even the most supportive people don’t fully accept me, Kit.
Tillie loves me. I know that. But facing this situation, I think you’ll find that blood is thicker. ”
“You’re fucking wrong.” He tosses the tea towel down on the benchtop, taking a step towards me, but I take several back, making sure there’s plenty of distance between us.
“I’d rather not risk my friendship and find out. Tillie is all I have. If I lose her, then I have no one, and as hard as it is to believe, I actually do need someone. I need her.”
Just from his conflicted expression, I can tell there’s a war battling inside his head, but he nods, stepping back to the bench.
“I’ll talk to her.”
I go to protest, but his bellow cuts me off.
“LIBI!”
“Kit, don’t you dare say anything to her. I don’t give you permission.”
He scoffs. “I don’t need your fucking permission, Bell.”
I storm forward, fists balled. “The fuck you don’t.”
The moment I get close, he’s on me, his hands engulfing each side of my face as he kisses me.
I try to fight it at first, but he’s fucking stubborn, and unrelenting, and eventually, the combination of his spicy scent, the feel of his hard cock pressing against my pelvis, and the way his tongue tastes mine like he’s fucking starved for me, has me melting.
Damn him. I kiss him right back even though I know I shouldn’t.
When he breaks the kiss, we are both breathless, and his blue orbs look a little drunk as he stares at me. “Fight me in the bedroom all you like, Bell. But don’t fight me on this.”
“Can we table this conversation until after breakfast? I’m getting kind of hangry.”
He chuckles, dropping my face and stepping back.
“Can you please go up and wake Libi? I’m surprised she’s not already down here.”
I cringe. “Maybe she’s too scared to come out of her room. She probably heard us last night.”
His brows shoot up as he considers it. “Maybe. It probably sounded like we were killing each other.”
I snicker, and his eyes light up.
“Fuck. That’s two days in a row that I’ve heard you laugh. Gotta be a record.”
“Shut up.” I shove his shoulder, flipping him off as I leave the room, hearing the rumble of his laughter follow me out.
Hurrying upstairs, I tap on Libi’s bedroom door before I crack it open.
“Good morning, Liberty,” I sing-song, stepping into her dark room despite the summer sun rimming the thick drapes like it’s trying to fight its way in. “Your grumpy dad has cooked us bacon for breakfast.”
I flick on the light, my gaze tracking across the generous room to the oversized white framed bed, dressed in pink sheets with white frills.
Shit. I forgot how extravagant Libi’s room is. I was stunned last night when I put her to bed. It’s like something out of a fairytale.
As I cross the space to the bed, I frown, finding it empty.
“Libi?”
I lift the blankets, as if I’d find her hiding under them like it’s a Mary Poppin’s bed, and the lumpy form of a five-year-old will magically appear.
“Shit, kid. Where are you?”
I drop the blankets and bend to check under the bed, only to find a sock and a Lego piece under there.
Straightening, I frown, my hands on my hips as I study the space. There are not many places to hide, so I check the one place that makes sense.
The little shit is probably trying not to laugh at me searching for her.
“Oh, Libi,” I sing, tugging the walk-in wardrobe door open and flicking on the light.
My eyes quickly scan the space and my smile drops.
Shit. Nothing. That’s weird.
Moving back out into the hall, I call her name. “Libi!”
Nothing. Huh.
This is a big house. I guess there are heaps of places to hide. So with that thought, I start searching.
The guest room is empty. So too is Tillie’s room and the bathroom, so I go up to Kit’s floor and check his room, office, and living area.
Still, I can’t find her.
She must be hiding downstairs.
“Where’s Libs?”
I spin at Kit’s voice behind me in his private living suite.
“I don’t know. She wasn’t in her bed. I figured she’s playing hide and seek or something. I’ve been searching, but can’t find her up here. Figured she must be downstairs.”
He frowns. “What do you mean? She hates hide and seek. Says hiding scares her.”
He storms out of the room, and I kinda feel dumb, like I should have known that or something.
Tillie probably would have, but shit, I haven’t spent that much time with the kid to know that sort of thing.
“LIBI!” Kit booms through the house as he opens and closes every cupboard, and searches under every bed.
I want to tell him that I’ve searched all the places he’s searching, but every minute that passes has him even more frantic.
“Libi, this isn’t funny!” he yells, rushing down to the ground floor. “Please Libi. Call out to Daddy!”
I hurry down, feeling the cold spike of panic seeping into my bones, because with every passing second, it’s becoming more and more apparent that Libi isn’t here.
“Libi!” I call, wishing I could do more, and as Kit rushes from the living room, through the kitchen and out into the garage, I follow.
I figure he must be going to check if she’s in the car or something, but he hurries into another room off the side of the garage, and when I step in the doorway, I spot a wall of security monitors.
The heavy taps of Kit’s fingers on the keyboard are loud and angry, and a moment later, the screens flicker to show the timestamp from last night, and me giving Libi a kiss on her forehead after I finished reading the book, and she’d dozed off in her bed.
The monitor follows my movements, tracking me through the house and back into the kitchen, while the top monitor in the corner shows Libi still asleep in her bed.
Kit fast forwards the feed, showing a very quick interaction between us in the kitchen, then me going upstairs to the first floor, where I start snooping through the house, and Kit finishes up in the kitchen.
Still, as he catches me in his room, the top monitor shows Libi still in her bed.
I stiffen as I realise there’s actually a few cameras in his room, which means everything we did last night was recorded.
I don’t know how to feel about that since he didn’t ask permission. I would have said yes, but that doesn’t matter right now. The only thing that does is finding Libi.
Kit runs the footage at high speed through about an hour of us fucking before he hits pause, a low growl rumbling from him.
Frowning, I peer closer at the screens, and it takes me a second to find what’s got his attention.
In the far lower left corner, the monitor shows the backyard, and there on the screen are two black-clad figures, too big to be women.
You can’t see their faces, their heads covered in ski masks, and as soon as Kit hits play again, we both watch them unlock the back door with a key, step in and disarm the security system, and walk right into the dining room by the kitchen.
Shit.
A shiver ripples up my spine at what this means, and I can hardly believe Kit is so fucking calm right now, because I’m about to start screaming in hysterics.
On the monitors, Kit follows the men as they move through the house, while Libi is still sound asleep in her bed, and well, at this point, Kit and I look like we are in a bloody MMA ring, grappling each other on his bed.
Oh. My. God. The men turn to look up the stairs to Kit’s floor… like they can hear us.
“Kit…” I breathe. “Those men came in and took her, didn’t they?” I can’t hold back anymore, and Kit grunts in response, following them as they step into Libi’s room and move to her bed, one man on each side.
My heart thrashes wildly in my chest as I step closer, my eyes zeroed in on the screen, to watch one man slap his hand over Libi’s mouth, while the other injects something into her arm.