Page 31 of Kiss, Kill, Thrill Me, Daddy

If there were ever a room to encapsulate a person so effortlessly, it’s this one. The pink walls practically scream “Tatum!” The plush, pink carpet. Pink bedspread. Pink canopy curtains around the bed. Every inch of the room is bubblegum pink, and the sight of the walls that housed the man I love leaves me breathless.

Tatum whirls around to face me, leaving no space between us. “Abdulov. Look at me. I am an emotional wreck right now. Not only are we legally married, but I’ve found out my supposed biffle has been planning a goddessdamned wedding on our behalf for months. Fucking drug me. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to remember. All I want is to lie down and forget this day ever happened.” He squeezes his eyes shut and bangs the side of his head with his hand. When I grab his wrist to stop him from hurting himself, he leans in, pressing his forehead against my chest, right over my heart. “Please?”

“Tatum,” I plead. “You’ve asked me never to drug you again, I do not wish to?—”

“Dammit,” he cries, shoving his face deeper into my chest. “Abi, I don’t ask you for anything, but I’m asking for this. I can’t handle this shit right now.”

“Oh, little one,” I whisper, kissing his face. “It is okay. You’re not in this alone anymore.” I tighten my grip on his back and pull him even closer, needing to assure him. “You’re never in this alone again. I have you. Lean on me. Let me be strong for both of us.”

His fingers tug at my shirttail. “I just want to go to sleep and forget any of this happened.”

How can I deny him when he sounds so wounded? He needs this. I can provide something that might make this easier, so that’s what I’ll do. I’d do anything he asks of me.

I take the syringe from his hand and uncap the needle. He looks distressed. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed now, and his hands are folded in his lap. They’re shaking. His entire body is trembling, but he does not flinch when the needle pierces his skin. He just lets out a soft, content sigh.

“We have to do something about this,” he finally says.

Once the needle is capped and back in the bag, I place it on the bedside table and motion for him to stand so I can pull back the blanket. I guide him back into bed, propping a pillow beneath his head, and I scoot in next to him.

“What would you have me do?” I ask.

His hand touches mine. Just the smallest of touches, but it’s one that lights me up from the inside. It’s an unspoken admission. A quiet declaration. His touch tethers us until the only things left in the world are our beating hearts and that small, slight connection. Then, his body goes lax, and his eyes drift closed. I study him for a while, just soaking the sight of the man I love. Once I’m sure he’s asleep, I send a text to Fee, telling her I am not leaving him while he’s in this state. She sends me thumbs-up emoji in response.

Removing my clothes, I slide in beside him. I’ve undressed him down to his jockstrap, and his hole is within reach, so I reach for it, sliding a spit-slicked finger inside.

His eyes flutter open and the smile he gives me takes my breath away. “Daddy,” he whispers, and then he’s asleep again.

I wish he would use the endearment more often, but if this is all he can give, I will gladly take it. His eyes flutter open a few more times, and he makes declarations I know he won’t repeat in the morning, so I try not to take them to heart. He talks of everything and nothing, making my heart skip a few beats here and there. Eventually, I fall asleep at his side, listening to the muffled voices coming from downstairs.

CHAPTER 6

TATUM

Idon’t know that I’ve ever felt more comfortable in my life than I do at this very second. I’m in my childhood bed, lying almost naked next to Abi. He hasn’t moved a muscle in the past twenty minutes. Even though my bladder is close to bursting, the discomfort isn’t unwelcome. The pressure reminds me this is real and not the work of a vicious fever dream.

Married.

I’m married to this big, strong, strapping, annoying man. Part of me wants to slit Scotty’s throat for what he’s done, but there’s another part—a much smaller part I’d never voice aloud—insisting I lean into the madness. To hop aboard Abi’s crazy train and ride it to our final destination.

After drugging me yesterday, Abi held me until I was asleep. The drug pulled admissions out of me I had no right muttering. Truths I’ve tried to keep hidden. I can’t remember everything I said, but I distinctly remember telling him if I attempt to stay behind when they leave, he is to drug me and carry me back against my will.

I honestly don’t know why I fight him as hard as I do. Part of me loves the rush, I guess. The way I slap him silly. How he fingers my hole to keep me in line. I’ve always been dramatic bynature, maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to him. Maybe it’s why he’s drawn to me. I give him something none of his other partners have. A fight. A goddessdamned battle to the emotional death.

And we’re happy, I think. Him and me. Me and him. I take more than I give, but he gives pieces of himself willingly, so who am I to turn them down? Abi lives for the fight just as much as I do. But right now—inthismoment—I have no urge to fight. There’s no war to wage, only surrender.

We lie this way a while, until the sun appears over the trees through the window. His face ticks, his mouth hangs open, and he takes a deep breath. When he exhales, there are hints of morning breath mixed with cinnamon. It’s an enticing scent, if I’m being honest, but I’d never tell him that. When his eyes open into the thinnest of slits, a smile stretches across his face.

“Good morning, little one,” he says before leaning in and giving me a chaste kiss on the cheek. I rake my fingers through his furry chest, letting the hair spike between them. Little silken strands that tickle my skin. This is the first time we’ve woken up alone. Usually, Fee is on the other side of me, her ice-cold legs twisted and folding with mine. Even when she has overnight work assignments, I can usually convince Barb to cuddle up behind us. Apparently, I’ve grown accustomed to falling asleep nuzzled between two bodies like a human burrito. It’s a bit queer when it’s just the pair of us, but I can’t say it isn’t nice. I can’t say I don’t enjoy the opportunity I have of monopolizing his morning. “You’re very affectionate today.”

I could come up with a clever comeback to shatter his self-confidence if I really wanted, but I don’t want to. Instead, I look up at him and flash a half-smile. My hand slides down his chest until it rests on his stomach. I love the way he feels. Deep canyons between each abdominal muscle. Jagged hip bones that stick out at an alarmingly statuesque angle. The man is a walking work of art. I trail my hand a little lower, only stopping when he growls at me.

“You keep that up and you’re going to end up with something stiff pressing against your hip.”

My body shudders at the thought. I’ve never touched him that way. Hell, I’ve only seen his dick a handful of times, but it’s like there’s some magnetic force inching me toward it, because it’s where my hand belongs. Looking up, I hold eye contact as I lower my hand another inch.

“Tatum,” he rasps.

“Call Scotty,” I say, sliding my hand a bit lower. Twitching my pinkie, I come into contact with a tuft of pubic hair poking out of his boxers. I know for a fact there’s a forest of hair waiting for me should I desire to delve those depths, and I kind of want to dive right in. “We need to figure out what the game plan is today.” I bring my lips to his chest, parting them as I journey closer to his nipple. Our eyes are locked, and there’s an unspoken knowingness hanging in the air. He’s aware of what I want, though I’m unable to express it. The thing is, I need to find a way to apologize to him for my behavior yesterday, and this is probably the easiest path to repentance.

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