Page 109 of Knight

Shit.

My eyes widen and it’s like he knows that I’m panicking inside. That my world is spinning upside down.

My second suicide attempt.

I don’t know what scares me more. The fact that I almost jumped to my death while on a cocktail of whiskey and vodka or the fact that I did it at Damien King’s house.

“Where’s Willow?”

Damien doesn’t hesitate to answer, “Christian took her and Bella home. She’s fine.”

My shoulders drop and my teeth unclench. At least she’s okay.

His eyes narrow, “Are you okay? Or is that something I’m going to have to watch out for? If so, I have a cage with your name on it.”

A smirk forms on my lips, even though smiling hurts my face. “Kinky.”

He growls, “Don’t rile me up, Rowland. I don’t care how pukey you are.”

“Ugh.” I look down at my clothes and I don’t even want to look at my face. “I’m a fucking mess.”

“You’re my mess.” His finger grazes my cheek again and before I know it, he’s pulling me into his lap, curling me up like a doll before he stands up.

I squeal, the room still topsy-turvy, “What are you doing?”

“I thought you’d trust me by now,” he says, his breath landing at the top of my tangled strands. “I did save your life and all.” Again.

I’ve saved him too, and his business. We’re always around when the other needs them most but damn, did it take us both dying to see that? There’s no denying that Damien King is a hero. My hero. There’s a heart inside the steely cold exterior.

He walks through his trashed room, stepping over broken glass and toppled chairs before he takes me through his bathroom door. A big square white tub sits to the side and he walks towards it, towels scattered all over the dark floor. He lowers me in like a baby in a bassinet before warm water starts flowing out of the faucet. Damien isn’t usually this soft or this careful with me, but now it’s like I’m his fragile prized possession.

I lay my head back and a bath pillow stops my head from hitting the rim. He swoops his hair out of his face, pulling the shirt off my head, my arms dangling in the air. “When I’m hungover, this is my favourite remedy,” Damien says before he bites his lip. His eyes trail over my shoulders, my dips, my chest. My body is clammy and sticky from leftover sweat and I’m sure I look like hell, but he still looks at me like he wants to eat me alive. “That’s if I can drag my ass out of bed. Dragging you in here is a hell of a lot easier.”

“Like when you’re dragging me through the mud?” I say, soothing water pooling around my naked body.

He smirks. “There she is.”

I’m giving him sass but I know the reality. Damien saved my life for what might be the fourth time? This time is the most important. I could’ve fallen off that roof like a twig. I could’ve shattered. It could’ve all been over for me but Damien was there. “I’m sorry.”

Pulling off his shirt, his hard pecs distract me, that smooth soft skin. He stares at me, his eyes bouncing around my body while he takes his time, pulling his grey boxers down his toned legs. He stands naked in front of me, his cock eyeing me from way too close. I remember how it feels to be inside my mouth, inside me. Like a snake exploring every crevice.

Swinging one long, muscular leg over the side of the tub, he climbs in. “What’re you—” Water splashes in my face and out the tub when he drops himself in. This tub is huge but he can hardly fit with me inside, spreading his legs out to the side for more room. That only gives a direct line right to his bobbing royal staff. “You can’t be thinking about sex.”

He smirks. “I’m always thinking about sex with you, Jo. My cock fits in your pussy like a glove but that’s not why I came in.”

“To make sure I don’t drown myself in the tub?”

He arches an eyebrow. “You thinkin’ about it?”

No. I’m already drowning in his presence. In those eyes. When I bite my lip, his brow relaxes. As if he already knows I’m bluffing.

Damn. I’ve known this guy for a short time but it’s like he knows me better than my sister. Definitely better than my parents. What would they have thought if they saw Damien? Would they see him as the threatening King of Eden? Or would they see him like I do? Strong. Dominant. Irresistible. The more time I spend with him the more I realize he lives up to the name.

“Let’s talk game,” he says. “You’re a hockey fan, right? Drooled all over Hugo Perez in his heyday?”

My brows furrow, “Did Christ—”

“What if we lowered our defences? Allocated more efforts to training our offence but together we’ll be the strongest team in the east. The world. ” My mouth opens and closes like a fish and I hate that I’m at a loss for words. “Seeing you on that ledge forced me to imagine things without you. Again. You’re stubborn, impulsive and you don’t give a fuck about listening to anyone … ”

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