6. Knight
Chapter Six
KNIGHT
The next morning, after coaching Paulo through his feelings all night, I was in the elevator, going through the business section on my phone when the doors opened, and there was Trix in her blue dress that had been impossibly appealing before it was partly ripped and burned off her.
Her makeup was mostly under her eyes, and she looked like an exorcist. No, like the demon-possessed girl, but that didn’t lessen her appeal.
I just wanted to pick her up and put her in bed, tuck her in, and then take off her makeup properly. We could do skincare together.
She stumbled in, her eyes not entirely open, or she would have waited for a different elevator.
She was hung-over. Should I pretend not to notice her?
She didn’t smell like garlic, more like vodka and charred silk.
Her curls were crazier than I’d ever seen them, pointing out in every direction like she’d fallen into a lake and had them dry badly afterwards.
“What are you looking at?” The sound of her raspy voice sent chills over my skin. She carried her boots, one of which was charred. She really had gone on one of her rampages with that pale little amoeba. On my bike.
Anger mixed with desire in a most unbalancing way.
I should ignore her until I was more centered, but Horse wouldn’t just let the bike theft go.
Maybe I wouldn’t, either. I cleared my throat.
“You stole my bike. I’m wondering if I should report you for other stuff too.
You cause any fires I should know about? ”
She scowled at me, still squinting. The light in the elevator was too bright for her hangover. “Pansy is in the garage, in the exact center of your parking spot. You knew I’d take care of her.”
I smiled, but it wasn’t my usual. “Pansy? That’s not what I named her.
Seeing you like this makes me wonder what kind of condition you left her in.
” I nodded at her body, letting my eyes linger on her delicious curves that spilled so temptingly from the insufficient confines of her strapless bra.
My pulse pounded more rapidly the longer I studied her.
I pretended to objectify her, but she was so distracting, so some of my real obsession bled through.
“I’ll give her a tune-up tomorrow, just stop talking.” She put her head in her hands in the classic hangover posture. Her position camouflaged her more obvious charms, but left her vulnerable to me. I should show mercy, but she’d stolen my bike and taken it joyriding with someone else. That hurt.
I spoke normally, but my voice was naturally loud with a good, clear tone. “Did you make Blondie cry?”
She came up snarling. She shoved me against the side of the elevator, my back hitting the metal with a thud while her body pressed against me. “I’m going to make you cry.”
I’d cry from how good she felt against me.
It didn’t matter that she was a mess. She was still fifty times more phenomenally glorious than anyone else, and she felt like absolute heaven.
Like home. Like bed after you’d been on a race for three days without sleep.
I studied her face, so close to mine, the way her pupils dilated the longer she had me against the wall.
Was she drunk? She didn’t seem drunk, just hungover.
Which meant that she was touching me because she wanted to touch me, not because she was under the influence.
She felt even better not drunk, pinning me, looking at me like she wanted me. My brain shut off as I leaned closer and growled in my lowest register. “I’m sure you’ll do your best, but I’m the kind of man who reciprocates. You stole my bike. Seems like I have to steal something from you.”
I kissed her. She tasted real and authentic, like her warmth beneath the thin fabric of her dress. I kissed her too hard, too hungry, but I felt like I hadn’t touched a woman in centuries. I couldn’t count the times I’d looked at her mouth and wanted to take it.
Her lips softened against mine, parting for my tongue as I pressed against her, my hands sliding into that unruly hair.
I kissed her with the pent-up aggression I should have spent in the ring, but the surprising softness of her exploded the blood in my veins, spreading fire until the elevator dinged.
I ripped myself away from her, struggling to regain control over some part of my mind or body.
I gestured her out onto her floor. For a second she stayed leaning against my chest, eyes unfocused and lips soft and wet, chest rising and falling, arched up towards me.
It was almost like she’d been waiting for me to take her.
No one took Trixie, but her looking at me like that, so soft, she hadn’t hated me kissing her.
I took that as an invitation and moved back to her.
I had my hands on her waist when she kneed me.
I inhaled sharply while she grabbed my shirt in her fists. Her voice was breathless. “I should have crashed Pansy. You touch me again and I’ll put you in traction.”
Then she kissed me. Her lips seared mine, her tongue hot and sweet as she shoved against me, a hard kiss that made my teeth ache in the sweetest way.
It was all her: rough, wild, and terrifyingly uncalculated.
She let go of me suddenly and staggered out of the elevator, leaving me staring after her, aching in a bewildering number of ways.