Page 33 of Dark as Knight

“Well, you men certainly don’t make it easy on us,” I half joke, releasing his arm from my shoulders as he slides down onto the edge of his bed.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because you’re drunk and could use some help. Plus”—I lean down and untie both of his shoes—“you woke me up.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He reaches down and touches my chin. “This, with me.” He’s probably drunk enough he won’t remember this tomorrow and he probably wouldn’t remember if I told him the reason why, but I don’t. “You’re too good for this. You deserve Jason.”

I’m half convinced that this is some sort of guilt trip he’s having regarding paying a woman to marry him for a year and maybe it is, but this is a can of worms I don’t want to open, especially not right now.

“Maybe so, but the contract is signed so let’s just focus on this next year, then figure it all out from there.”

“Is that all this is for you?” His eyes grow darker. “A contract?”

“I—” My heart thuds in my chest so loud I’m confident he can hear it. “Are you going to be okay?” I stand up, looking down at him but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he reaches out for me, grabbing my waist with both hands and pulling me toward him.

“Sing a song for me.”

“What?” I grab his hands, stilling his movements. He looks up at me. “What did you say?”

He closes his eyes, leaning his head against my belly as he squeezes me tighter. I’m unsure what to do or say or where this is going but the butterflies I’ve been trying to avoid are back in full force, the warmth of his fingers burning through my shirt so hot I’m sure they’ll leave a mark. I lift my hands, gently running them through his hair. Finally, he says something against my stomach. It’s so muffled I almost can’t make it out but if I’m not mistaken, it’s a warning. And instead of making me want to run, it makes me want to find out exactly who is Atlas Knight.

“You have no idea—no idea who I really am.”

My thoughts are so consumed with what Atlas said to me last night I don’t even notice when he walks through the door of the coffee shop the next day until he’s standing right in front of the register.

“Hi.” I smile, blushing like he knows that I’ve been consumed with thoughts of him.

“Hi.” He smiles back. “How’s your morning been?”

“Okay, woke up a little tired today, though.” I give him a knowing glance and his eyes shift away from mine.

“About that. I owe you an apology.”

“No need.” I lean in a little closer to him. “What you did after made up for it.” I give him a wink, dragging my teeth over my bottom lip in a flirty manner. His eyebrows shoot upward and I burst out laughing. “Gotcha.”

“Coffee, black,” he says, unamused even though he’s smirking.

“You got it.” I step to the side, grabbing a cup. The bell jingles and Jason steps through just like he does every day. I watch as Atlas turns to look at him, then checks his watch. I place the lid on his drink and place it on the countertop. “One coffee, black.”

He picks up the coffee, turning to place it on the empty table behind him. “Come here.” He motions for me to follow him so I do. I step out from behind the counter to where he’s standing. He steps toward me as well, our bodies coming together and just like the day before, his lips find mine.

This kiss is different though. It’s more urgent, his hands almost frantically trying to find a way to hold on to me. His tongue is demanding, his lips soft and warm. I’m lost in it, my eyes in the back of my head as my toes curl in my Converse.

“I’m sorry,” he growls against my lips, “for being a drunk asshole last night.”

“If that’s how you apologize, you can do it every night.” I know I shouldn’t let these little thoughts escape my brain but it makes him laugh. “Meetings last night not go well or something?”

“Something like that.” His hands are still in my hair, his body pressed against mine as he looks at me. His eyes drop down to my lips again, whispering against them before kissing me again. “I could consume you.”

I’m breathless by the time he breaks the second kiss, all thoughts fleeing my mind of wanting to ask him about his comments last night and if it was just a coincidence that he got here just before Jason did. I’m like a weightless cloud, floating around, until moments after he leaves, I receive the same text I did yesterday from him and my stomach sinks. Looks like it’s going to be another lonely night.

Atlas: I’ll be home late, meetings. Don’t wait up. Oliver will give you a ride home.

After the third night of the same thing, I’ve had enough. Tonight, I decide to wait up. I check the clock minute after minute, hour after hour. It’s nearly two a.m. when I finally hear his footsteps coming up the stairs. I stand in my doorway, waiting, as I hear him ascend the stairs, finally taking a step toward him once he reaches the landing.

“Must have been a late meeting.” His head jerks to the right. I think I’ve startled him even though he doesn’t jump.

“It was.” He takes a step toward me, his suit jacket clutched in his hand. “Why are you still up?”

---