Page 126 of Knights Game

“You can’t ask me about fate and then karma. You know my answer.” I roll her onto her back and pull the dressing gown open again, taking a nipple into my mouth.

“So, no.” She moans arching into me.

I continue devouring one then the other, my cock getting harder by the second.

“No.” I let her nipple pop out of my mouth, staring intently at the rise and fall of her swollen chest. She runs her hands through my hair, tugging at the root. “There is one person responsible for what happens in your life, and that’s you. Karma is more to do with a person realising that the way they acted or something they did was wrong. You can blame that on karma, but ultimately, it’s down to you, your actions, your choices.”

“I always thought karma would get the man that killed my parents.”

I crawl up her body and hover over her face. “It will but not in the way you think. He will be living with the fact that he fell asleep at the wheel and caused a catastrophic car crash that killed two innocent people. Death is better than that.” I fall forward and devour her mouth.

“Coming from the man that kills people regularly,” she says against my lips, and I pull back.

“The death of an innocent is always wrong, Layla. But in my world, people are not innocent. Including myself. I’ve never hidden what I am from you. But there is one thing you should know.”

I line myself up, and bury my cock into her wet cunt, and she moans into my mouth as I choose my next words, all the while feeling her body respond to the pleasure I’m giving her.

“I am not a perfect man, I make mistakes, last night proved that. But I will never purposefully hurt you. I will rain hellfire over any person that hurts you. What you went through was heartbreaking, it was tragic, but it was an accident. Nothing to do with karma or fate. Just shit luck.”

I kiss her on the lips as I tilt my hips, grinding against the spot that drives her crazy then pause, buried to the hilt and rest my forehead on hers.

“But us, this thing between us, I don’t want to be the person you call at 3 a.m. because you can’t sleep and you’re lonely.” Ipull out leisurely and glide back in “I want to be the person you call at 3 p.m. when you’re tired and stressed or upset.” Out and in. “I want to be the person you think about when you’re restless and crave peace because I’m the one who can give it to you.”

Layla’s eyes widen as she takes in my words, takes in my tone, takes in how fucking serious I am that I want her more than anything.

Out and in then hold.

“I’m the one who wants to look after you and make you smile when you want to cry. I live in a fucked-up world doing fucked up things, but you live in that world too, and I keep thinking that I’m going to wake up and realise you were nothing but the best fucking dream ever.”

I pull back out and bury myself as deep as I can, taking her mouth in a searing kiss, which I hope shows her everything that I’m trying to say but can’t.

42

Layla

I’m surrounded by paper.I’m sitting on the floor in Luca’s living room with everything that Grandad had at the Village. Documents upon documents, upon even more documents that had been stuffed into boxes that Luca pulled from his Range Rover.

That Sunday night was…everything I could have wanted and more. We talked, we made love, we slept. That was two weeks ago, and we have existed in a delirious bubble since then and have found a new normal. We have laughed, loved, and lived in a world where it has just been the two of us.

I’ve even officially got a spot, on the chaise lounge in the master bedroom looking over the sights of London. I spend my time reading, whilst Luca manages his empire from his office and plots someone’s demise.

But he has remained close.

I haven’t woken at 4 a.m. screaming, and I haven’t been to work.

Not because I’ve quit my job. Well, I’ve not quit the doctor’s surgery. I am, however, taking time off whilst Luca gets to thebottom of everything, today is the first day the apartment is quiet, he left at the crack of dawn to do God knows what.

As for me, with the exception of visiting Grandad, I remain on house arrest. But he has finally allowed me to reschedule the meeting with the lawyer. Which is tomorrow.

Katy walks into the room holding two glasses of wine. She’s my reinforcements to stop the overwhelm.

“Katy, its 4 p.m.”

“And…we have a lot of reading to do. Is that everything?”

“Yeah, I think so. Oh, wait, hang on, I think there was one more envelope. It’s in my bag, in the kitchen.”

The one thing I had left at the care home, which Sylvia had given me on the Monday after it all had gone to shit.

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