Page 13 of My Knight

He dropped to his knees again in front of me and grabbed my Chucks. He slid them on with practiced ease and laced them up. When he was done, he sat back on his heels and smiled up at me.

“Let’s get you home and in bed, baby.”

That didn’t sound like a bad idea at all.

Chapter Five

Pirate

“This is your room,” I said, pushed open the door, and stepped aside to let her in first.

I shrugged off my cut and hung it on the back of the chair like always. Comfortable. Familiar. My space.

“Okay,” she said simply. Saylor didn’t move more than a few steps in. Her eyes scanned the room like it was a puzzle she had to solve. “Why am I in your room?” she asked and turned to me.

“Because this is where you’re going to be staying.”

She blinked, clearly not a fan of that answer. She stood near the bed and did a slow turn, taking it all in. It wasn’t anything fancy—just a king bed, a dresser, a flat screen mounted on the wall, a chair in the corner. Clean but lived in. My home inside the clubhouse.

“Why am I staying here? Why can’t I stay with Mac? That makes more sense than me staying here.”

“Mac, Mark, and Drew are sleeping on air mattresses in the interview room,” I said, already knowing her next argument.

She crossed her arms, stubborn as hell. “Am I supposed to see a problem with that? I can sleep on an air mattress.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think you’re up for sleeping on an air mattress that slowly deflates every night until you’re practically on the floor.” I nodded to the bed. “You’ll sleep there.”

She pointed at the mattress like it was cursed. “And where are you going to sleep?”

I nodded again. “Right there with you, baby. I’ll stay on top of the covers if that makes you more comfortable.”

Her jaw tightened. “Or Mac could come sleep in here with me, and then you could go out there with the guys.”

I let out a flat laugh. “Yeah, that shit isn’t going to happen. The cameras have made my life hell for months. I’m not about to give up my bed.”

“You’re giving it up to me.”

I shook my head, smirking. “Nope. Just adding you to it. Lay down and rest. I can see how exhausted you are.”

“I can’t sleep all day,” she muttered, arms still crossed.

“I’m not blind, Saylor. Anyone could see you’re tired—and I don’t blame you. You’ve been through hell.”

She glared at me like she wanted to argue, but her body betrayed her. She was swaying on her feet. Her arms dropped to her sides.

“I don’t want to sleep.”

“Whatever. Don’t sleep. But at least sit down. I can put a movie on or something.”

With a sigh of exaggerated annoyance, she sat on the edge of the bed. “Maybe you can tell me why you’re stuck to me like glue.”

I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. The screen flickered to life. “What do you like to watch?”

“Anything but reality TV.”

I glanced at her, amused. “You don’t watch the type of TV you help make?”

“Find a movie,” she deadpanned.

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