Chapter 23 | Kate
TWENTY-THREE | KATE
My eyes fall shut as my body hits the mattress. The soft duvet envelopes me, wrapping me in the scent of fresh lavender and lemon. The late sunlight pierces through the French doors, spilling warm yellow light across the floor and the end of my bed, where I’m sprawled.
It’s hard to miss my one-bedroom house and small paycheck when I’m living like a queen for free.
Well, the price is my freedom, but even that doesn’t feel like the truth anymore.
I enjoy working at the medical center every day, but sadly, it means that Preston and I's paths cross less often than I wish.
Which may not be a bad thing, considering every time I see him, all I think about is my mouth on him.
His tongue in me.
The talented strum of his fingers as he gave me the most brutal, overwhelming orgasm that shot me straight up into the cosmos, where I could float among the stars.
Being dominant over Preston was a part of healing that I didn’t know I needed.
He did everything I asked, letting me take what I wanted from him.
That night was about me and drawing out my pleasure.
Yet, in a way, I think he was enjoying it as much as I was.
Owning him in that way was a power I didn’t know I could feel.
Everything about being with Preston felt different.
He listened to me. Heard me.
It gave me a glimpse of what a future with someone could be like, since my body and mind aren’t as broken as I’ve believed.
He doesn’t understand the weight it holds.
He saw my scars but held me in his lap like I wasn’t breakable or tarnished.
Then he cleaned me up with a washcloth and tucked me in.
His thumb caressed my forehead with the kind of gentle heat that made me wonder if he was going to kiss the spot he was touching.
But he didn’t.
He lifted my chin with his fingers, peering into my eyes before leaving me with, “You’re so beautiful when you come. I could watch you do that for the rest of my life, even if it meant I’d never get to.”
I felt the truth laced in his tone.
He meant it, and each word was like a stitch, pulling back together the confidence I gave up on years ago that sex could be for me. If one time with Preston accomplished something I thought was hopeless, what could more moments like that do?
I’m so attracted to him that one glance lately has me needing to change my panties. When I’m alone at night, my fingers find my clit and sink inside me while I replay his words. His touch on my body. His beautiful bourbon eyes that hungrily lit my body on fire.
My core throbs with need.
I need more. I want more of him.
I sit up on the bed, considering taking a shower to clean the day off my body, and solve this wave of desire crackling through my veins.
My eyes drift to the dresser, my pulse jumping at the long black velvet box sitting on my bedside table.
The moment I burst through my bedroom doors, I immediately crashed. I didn’t see it.
Just looking at it reminds me of the weight of gold adorning my neck. Did Preston get me a matching bracelet or something?
Pushing myself to my feet, I close the distance and pick it up. Rotating it in my hands, my fingers skim over the soft velvet. When I open the lid, my breath escapes my lungs in one sharp exhale.
Staring back at me is a knife, its blade reflecting the dainty chandelier above my bed. The handle reminds me of smooth, black wood after it’s been charred. A deep black that draws the eye to the band of pink opal before the hilt meets the blade.
It’s so beautiful.
Delicately intimidating.
My heart beats wildly in my ears. Even just the sight of the blade stirs the nausea in my stomach. Why would Preston gift me a knife when he’s seen my scars?
Hurt and anger bubble inside me, carrying me to the door and out into the hallway. I know he’s been spending a lot of time in his office lately, since I always catch him staring out the window at me when I walk on my breaks.
I’ve never been to the third level, since he told me it was off limits, but I head up anyway.
The box feels heavy in my hand, increasing the panic crawling up my throat.
There are five doors on the side of the house facing the garden, but I remember he was standing by the window at the far end, just off center.
I choose the second-to-last door at the end of the hallway; the way it's cracked open makes my pulse race.
I knock a few times, barely having to wait before his voice orders me to come in.
Blowing out a shaky breath, I push it open, instantly enveloped in his earthy scent. His eyes are steady on mine with amusement. He doesn’t even need to look at the box to know why I’m here.
“I see you got my gift.” I haven’t spoken to him since yesterday, and the warmth of his voice is a shock to my system.
Preston stands, moving around the dark wooden desk that contrasts nicely with the deep forest tones of the room, lit only by the natural light flooding through the windows.
He stands in front of me, making me swallow.
I turn the box over in my hands. Itching to get it out of my proximity, I hold it out to him. “Most men give a woman jewelry.”
Ignoring it, he lifts his arm to let his fingers drift over the chain adorning my neck. Goosebumps skate across my skin when his skin brushes against mine. “I did give you jewelry.”
“No,” I correct. “You gave me a collar.”
“You’re right. Maybe I should’ve gotten you a matching leash to go with it instead.”
I slap his hand away with more playfulness than I intend to. I’m kind of hurt that he thought this would make a good gift. My lip trembles. “Why would you give me this?”
His hand bounces back to cup the back of my neck tenderly. “What better way to take back your power than learn to wield the thing that stole it?”
My brows pull together, my voice small. “You want me to use this?”
He nods. “I want you to learn to fight with it. Protect yourself.”
My eyes drop from his to the box as if the knife is going to grow legs and jump out at me—still hurt me somehow despite it being perfectly contained.
I push it toward him through the small space separating us. “I can’t. It’s too soon.”
“Maybe I should’ve gotten you a gun.”
I press my lips in a line, shaking my head.
“I’m going to teach you to use one anyway, because you should learn. But we’ll start with this. You need to be able to protect yourself.”
“Protect myself. From who? You?”
“From me. From whoever you're running from.” I swallow at the reminder. Preston’s gaze locks on the scar below my ear.
“To protect your mind from thinking that you can’t fight back when you and I both know you’re more than capable.
Carrying this around will give you a new sense of safety, which is why,” he releases me and walks over to his desk drawer, pulling out a black strappy sheath.
“I got this for you. I thought it would be safe for you to have it against your thigh.
Easily reachable if you ever need it. It's not just for whoever you’re running from, Kate—or me.
It's for any situation you may find yourself in where having a weapon could determine whether you live or die.”
The anger and hurt sizzling in my stomach twist into interest. The way he peers longingly at me stirs a sense of confidence. It’s small, but it’s there.
“I want to teach you to use it. Please let me.”
I always thought I needed to run. I’ve never felt as hopeless as I did when Xander caught me at that motel and painted the sheets scarlet with my blood as his body took what he wanted from me before he left me with the scar under my ear as punishment.
I absentmindedly reach up to touch the raised and rough skin.
But what would it feel like to know I could fight back?
Hold my own.
Take some of Xander’s power away if he ever finds me again.
My lips tilt upward, my pulse still racing with uncertainty, but I’ve made up my mind.