Page 90 of Knight

I’m not sure how many more hours of sleep I was able to squeeze in before this interruption. My head feels a little better. Wish I could say the same for my stomach. Damien’s making the knots inside so much worse. I reach for my hair, untangling some of the curls matted together and I hope to god my eyes don’t look as red and dark as the last time I looked in the mirror.

“You sure you didn’t want to be alone on New Year’s Eve?” I ask, pushing my pillow up behind me. “Because if I remember, I’m the one who left you.” And I’m proud of that decision, even though it doesn’t feel that way.

Lifting the comforter off my body, he gives himself a better look, a smirk spreading on that face. “If this is where you want me to join you, I’m okay with that.”

Pulling the blanket from his hold I hide the fact that I’m still wearing the same shirt I wore when I left his house. “Get the fuck out.” I still don’t have the words I want to say and he doesn’t get to decide when I’m ready to talk to him.

He reaches to touch my chin but I pull away before he grips my chin in his fingers. He’s staring at me with that intense look, the one that makes it easy to forget his downfalls. I’m not getting caught in his orbit. If he’s not leaving, I will. Again.

“I need a shower,” I mutter, pushing the comforter back even more. “When I get out, you better be gone.” Swinging my legs over the bed, I jet for the bathroom, making sure I lock the door once I’m inside.

“Jo?” he calls from the other side while I pace against the cold tiles.

I’m biting my nails when I turn around to face the door, my head already feeling like marbles are rattling inside. Placing my palm against my forehead I ask, “How’d you even get in here?”

“That’s your question?” His voice booms through the door and it startles me. I can tell he’s right on the other side. Walking over, I press my hand against the door before he continues speaking, “I miss you.”

So he’s playing nice again.

And even though there’s warmth rising to my face, I’m not falling for it this time. “Well, I don’t want to see you!” I call back, but my hand stays there, my head falling against the door. That’s such a fucking lie but I can’t let him know better. I won’t. My voice is softer than I’d like, “So go.”

The door jiggles but I don’t open it, “Jo, open the door. We’re talking. Now.”

“Yeah, cause the box of condoms on my bed means you’re willing to talk.”

“Isn’t that how we talk? With our bodies? With my dick buried deep inside you? It’s addicting, Jo.” Great. Now we’re both addicts to this toxic dance. God, why does it feel so good to know that? “You’re addicting and it’s fucked up but,” he pauses before he bangs on the door again, making me jump. “Get out here, Rowland. I gave you your time.” And he’s back to being demanding.

“Go!” I yell, eyes shut tight. Not waiting to hear a minute more, I make my way to the shower, ignoring the rattles at the door.

I’ve barely stripped off my shirt before the water hits my head, pouring over me like a refreshing elixir. I try to get his words out of my mind. I won’t admit how much I miss the way he uses that teasing tongue. The way my body reacts to his tantalizing touches, those kryptonite kisses. It’s poison. Damien King is a delicious, deadly poison. My nose stings, a tear coming to my eye yet again. But fuck, he’s also the goddamn antidote.

“Jo?” His voice is louder now and when I pull back the curtain, his eye meets mine.

“Geez!” I jump, startled by his presence. I’m naked in the shower and I’m starting to feel vulnerable again. Why doesn’t he ever listen? “Did you pick the lock?”

“That’s your job.” He smirks before tilting his chin to my sister’s door. “Willow’s door is open.”

Rolling my eyes, I groan, pulling the curtain so it covers his face again. I’m an idiot. “Get the fuck out, Damien,” I say to the ceiling.

“Are you sure you want that?”

No. “Yes.” I wish my voice was more convincing.

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

“Yeah, well, take my word for it.”

“I know who started the fire.”

His words make me freeze under the flow of water. “What?”

“But if you want me to leave …”

Of course, he’s brought a treat to dangle. And I fall for it. “Wait!” I call. But I don’t hear anything. “Damien!” I need to know more. He can’t leave after saying that. No matter how mad I am at him.

“Don’t forget I have something on you, Damien,” I call, pulling back the curtain but when I do, he’s still there — with a smirk. He’s fucking with me but two can play this game. Swallowing the emotions clouding my judgement, I stare him in the eye before pulling back the curtain some more. I’m giving him a clear view of my wet, albeit very tired and exhausted, body.

As I hoped, his eyes drop to my tits before his head tilts to the side, his lip going behind that perfect row of teeth. He growls, “And what’s that?”

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