Page 36 of Knight

“You’re gonna have to trust me,” I say.

“Jo?” My stomach flips when I hear Christian’s voice. I thought he was going to his car. Looking to my right, Christian has his eyes on us, fists clenched, eyes lowered.

Damien looks right into my eyes, his grip on my wrist tighter. “Are you serious, Medusa? You’re still fucking with Perez? Or is fucking Perez more appropriate?”

There it is. His voice turns from deep to a thunderous growl and when I fight against his hold, he only holds me tighter. My body turns to mush, so does my mind when I respond, “I have a … breakfast.” As much as this side of him excites me, my nub tingling between my legs, I know not to push it. So I leave the word “date” out of the equation.

Not that it matters. “You have a breakfast?” Damien doesn’t look at Christian but his jaw is so tight it looks like it might break. He brings his mouth to my ear, that seductive voice in HD. “You’re not leaving, Rowland. You’re gonna help me figure this out.”

“I am leaving.” The airiness in my voice doesn’t make me sound as bold as I’d like but I keep going. Keep pushing past the nerves and the flutters.

“You’re not going anywhere.” Those words feel so good to hear after he’s told me to leave over and over again. But now I got him where I want him, and I’m letting him know that he’s not the only one with a royal attitude.

“You don’t own me, Damien.”

“Jo!” Christian calls again.

“Oh?” Loosening his grip on my right wrist, he pulls at the button on the top of the shirt I’m wearing. Cold air brushes the tips of my breasts. “If you’re in my clothes, in my school, fucking right I own you.”

Staring him in his eyes I shrug my jacket off my shoulders before I start undoing the tie around my neck. He wants to hold his gaze, I can tell he does but Damien’s weaker than he lets on. His eyes drop to my tits as he watches me undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt.

It’s only when I’m down to my boyshorts, his pants dropping to the floor that I hear him growl, “Rowland. ” He looks to the side before I realize we’ve drawn a crowd. Shit. Fortunately, he’s too distracted to hold his stance when I push against his chest.

“I’m out of your clothes, and I’m about to be out of your school.” I glance at Christian who has his eyes wide, the crowd around us whispering.

“Is she stripping again?”

“Skank.”

I’m cold, but I take my time pulling my leather jacket around me before walking down the hall in nothing but my underwear and boots. I give Damien the finger. “Like I said, you don’t own me, Damien.” No matter how badly I want him to.

* * *

I’ve found my appetite.

At least for now.

After smoking a joint with Christian in front of Emilio’s and after showing Damien that I’m still a badass, I’m ravenous. Pizza for breakfast might be unconventional but it’s doing the trick.

Emilio’s is becoming a safe-haven. I didn’t even know they open for breakfast but I’m happy they do. It’s one of the only places in this shitty town that feels comfortable. It’s not lavish and over-the-top. A small bistro with a homey vibe, a chalkboard menu and a welcoming staff.

I’ve changed into Christian’s extra gym-wear, another pair of joggers and an ERA hoodie. It’s comfortable and smells like smoky, expensive cologne. It mixes with the basil and smell of dough in the restaurant. He hasn’t mentioned Damien, distracting my mind with more random conversation.

“Wait, you met Ovechkin?” I ask, trying to keep my jaw from hanging when Christian fills me in on the former NHL champions’ locker room.

“Yeah, but I could hardly understand him.” Christian shovels a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. He swallows before giving me a horrible interpretation of a Russian accent, “We not fucking suck!” It’s the line from The Capitals’ captain when they won the cup and I can’t help but laugh. And I mean a real, genuine, laugh.

“I guess having a former NHL star as a dad comes with perks,” I say between my laughs, reaching for the white napkin next to me.

“Downsides too,” Christian reminds me. “If I don’t get drafted before I graduate university, I’m pretty much disowned.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll survive.” I’m not one to sympathize with people in Christian’s tax bracket.

“I can. My parents won’t.” He leans in, a hand by his mouth. “They might even take away my second car.”

“Oh, the tragedy!” I laugh again, Christian joining in showing off a dimple in his cheek.

“Don’t get weird, alright?” His smile settles, eyes scanning around my face.

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