Chapter 5
KNIGHT
This is insane.
I’m sitting on the floor of the city animal shelter’s kitten room, a black-and-white ball of fluff climbing my arm while its orange sibling attacks my bootlaces. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead. Somewhere down the hall, a dog barks. And I’m watching the door like a stalker.
Which, technically, I might be.
The black-and-white kitten reaches my shoulder and head-butts my jaw. Its sibling has given up on my bootlaces and is now curled against my thigh, purring loud enough to rattle my bones. They’re bonded, the shelter assistant said, and they need to be adopted together.
When they finally stop moving, they cross their paws over each other, just like the cats in my art. I’m going to need to kitten-proof my apartment.
The door swings open, and my heart stops.
Daisy stands in the doorway, cleaning supplies in her arms, wearing jeans and a T-shirt that says Reading is Magical in sparkly letters. Her brown hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail.
I long to push her shirt aside and see the tattoo I started.
She freezes, and the bottle of disinfectant slips from her grip and clatters to the floor.
The orange kitten meows, breaking the silence, and Daisy laughs—a startled, delighted sound that makes my heart yearn to hear that sound every day for the rest of my life.
“Knight?” She blinks like she’s not sure I’m real. “What are you doing here?”
“Fate,” I say. The word comes out rougher than I intend. “I guess.”
It’s not fate. It’s Instagram and a complete lack of self-control. But she doesn’t need to know that.
She sets down her supplies and crouches to pick up the fallen bottle, and I watch her move. Her body is womanly and luscious with curves, and just the sight of her makes my cock twitch with lust. When she straightens, her cheeks are flushed.
“I volunteer here,” she says. “Every Tuesday and Saturday.”
The black-and-white kitten chooses this moment to climb onto my head, tiny claws pricking my scalp, and I must look absolutely ridiculous—a tattooed giant with a kitten hat—but Daisy’s smile only widens.
“I looked you up,” I admit. I wasn’t planning to, but a voice in my head tells me I have to be fully honest. “On Instagram. You post a lot about this place.”
I brace for her reaction. Disgust. Fear. The dawning realization that I’m a creep who cyberstalked her after one appointment.
But Daisy just tilts her head, studying me. “You looked me up?”
“Yeah.”
“And then you came here. On a Saturday. When you knew I’d be volunteering.”
“Yeah.”
The corner of her mouth curves. “That’s either really sweet or really concerning.”
“Probably both.” I reach up to rescue the kitten from my head before it tries to climb down my face and sinks its tiny razor claws into one of my eyes. “I can go, if you want. I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t.” She takes a step closer. “Don’t go.”
The kitten squirms in my hands, and its sibling is still purring against my thigh. Daisy crosses to where I’m sitting and sinks onto the floor beside me, close enough that her knee brushes mine.
“You came to find me,” she says softly.
“I came to adopt cats.” I gesture at the bonded pair. “These two. They need a home.”
“And you just happened to choose the shelter where I volunteer, on the exact day I’m here.”
I don’t answer. We both know the truth. Why the fuck do I feel like a teenage boy with no fucking clue of how to talk to a woman?
It’s not like I’ve never approached a woman before, even though not a single one of them moved me the way Daisy did before we even talked.
Just the sight of this woman made my brain short-circuit and my heart come to life.
Daisy reaches out and scratches the orange kitten behind its ears. “I was going to text you,” she says, not looking at me. “I’ve written about a hundred messages and deleted every single one.”
“Really?” My voice comes out hoarse. “What did they say?”
“Mostly embarrassing things.” She glances at me sidelong. “Thank you for being patient with me. I’m sorry I cried all over your tattoo chair. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
The last one steals the air from my lungs. “You can’t stop thinking about me?”
“Every day.” She’s blushing now, bright spots of color on her cheeks. “Every time I touch the tattoo, I think about your hands. The way you...” She trails off, shakes her head. “See? Embarrassing.”
I should say something. Something charming, something smooth, something that doesn’t reveal how completely wrecked I’ve been since she walked into King Ink and sat down in my chair.
But my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, and all I can do is stare at the curve of her jaw, the spot where I know my ink is under her shirt.
“Do you like it?” I ask. “The tattoo.”
Her hand drifts up to touch it. “I love it. Even unfinished.” She meets my eyes. “I do want to have you finish it.”
She has no idea. No idea that in wearing my art she’s wearing my heart.
The kittens have settled between us, curled around each other in a perfect yin-yang of orange and black-and-white. The air feels thick and charged, like the moment before a thunderstorm breaks.
“I should probably let you work,” I say, even though leaving is the last thing I want.
“Probably.” She doesn’t move. “But if you wait for me, my shift ends in twenty minutes, and I’ll help you with the adoption paperwork.”
Daisy leans against my shoulder, pointing at the next line. “Emergency contact goes here.”
Her breath is warm against my ear. I write my own number, realize my mistake, scratch it out.
Write Zane’s instead. Fuck if I know what he’d do with two cats, but I know he’d learn.
Despite being the wildest Casanova I’ve ever known, he’s a former soldier, and if he has a duty, he’ll lay his life down to make sure the duty is met.
“Nervous?” There’s a smile in her voice.
“I’ve never adopted anything before.” It comes out harsher than I mean it to.
Daisy smiles, standing close enough that I can smell her fruity shampoo as I fumble through the forms.
When I’m done, the lady behind the front desk, an older woman with kind eyes and a name tag that says BETSY, looks over the paperwork.
“Everything looks good,” she says. “We just need to run the standard approval. It’ll take a few days.”
This news disappoints me more than I could have imagined. “I can’t take them today?”
“Policy.” She smiles apologetically. “We’ll call when you’re approved.
You can pick them up anytime after that.
Plus, it will give you time to get the things you need, since this will,” she looks down at the form, “be your first time with cats. You’ll need a litter box and toys, and food dishes, and so on. ”
I glance back toward the kitten room, where the bonded pair is probably still curled around each other. The thought of them spending a few more days in a cage twists my emotions.
“They’ll be fine,” Daisy says softly, reading my expression. “I’ll keep an eye on them. I promise.”
“Okay. Let me know when I can pick them up,” I say. “I’ll be here.”
Daisy walks me to the door, then I usher her through it, into the late afternoon sun. The parking lot is nearly empty. My truck sits in the far corner, dusty and dented, as out of place in this suburban lot as I am everywhere. We walk toward it in silence, gravel crunching under our feet.
When I turn toward Daisy, she’s standing close enough that I can count the freckles scattered across her nose.
“I do want to make an appointment with you to finish the tattoo.”
“Just for the tattoo?”
“No.” Her voice drops. “Not just that.”
The sun is warm on my back. A breeze catches her hair, sending it dancing across her shoulders. She’s looking up at me with those bright blue eyes, and my hands are shaking, and I know I’m about to do something I can’t take back.
“I’ve been thinking about you.” The confession comes easier than I expected. “I wondered if the tattoo was healing okay and if you...”
“If I what?”
“If you thought about me, too.”
Her smile is like a sunrise. “Every single day. Every time I touch it.”
She reaches up and pulls her collar aside. The partial tattoo gleams against her skin—the outline of a kitten’s head, delicate and unfinished. My art. My heart. Inked forever on her skin.
My fingers trace the edge of the design, feather-light. Her breath hitches, and my pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out the traffic on the distant highway, the birds in the parking lot trees.
“Want to see?” she whispers.
I’m already seeing. I’m seeing the vulnerability in her eyes, the way she tilts her face up toward mine like she’s been waiting for this exact moment.
“Daisy.”
“Yes?”
I cup her face in my hands. She gasps, and then I’m kissing her.
A week of overwhelming desire crashes through me like a wave, and I kiss her like I’m drowning and she’s air. She melts into me instantly, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me closer. She opens her mouth to me, and the sweet taste of her kiss makes my head spin.
I back her against the side of my truck. She moans into my mouth, and my cock is instantly hard as a rock. My hands slide into her hair, tilting her head back, deepening the kiss until neither of us can breathe.
“Knight—” She gasps my name against my lips and presses her gloriously thick body against mine.
“I need you, Daisy.” I kiss her jaw, her throat, and satisfaction roars through me when she shivers.
“Me too.” Her fingers dig into my shoulders. “God, me too.”
I find the tattoo with my mouth. Press my lips to the half-finished design, to my art on her skin. “My art on you,” I murmur, not thinking, lost in the taste of her. “Drives me crazy.”
She doesn’t register what I’m saying, and I can’t believe I admitted my secret so easily. But she pulls me back up to her mouth, and nothing else exists but our kiss and how she makes me feel. The kiss turns desperate, hungry, a week of tension exploding between us in the shelter parking lot.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. Her lips are swollen. Her hair is a mess. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Come home with me.” The words are out before I can talk myself out of this, because bringing her home means her seeing my paintings, and knowing what no one else in the world knows about me.
Daisy’s eyes search mine. Whatever she finds there makes her smile the most beautiful smile.
“Yes.”