Page 40 of Devoted
“Oh no, you’re a morning person, aren’t you?” I ask, teasing more than anything.
“While you were snoring the day away, I made sure you had something to eat when you woke up,” he comments, grabbing the larger of the coffees and sliding it my way. “And some caffeine to make you a functioning member of society.” He inserts a straw into the cup. “So yes, thismorningpersonis taking care of you.”
Grabbing the latte and inhaling a large sip, I tilt my head in confusion. “Wait, I snore?”
“Like a dying bear.”
“Very funny.” Rolling my eyes, I snatch away one of the breakfast sandwiches in front of him, specifically the one with a ‘V’ marked on the parchment. “I didn’t keep you up, did I?” I ask as I unwrap my food.
Of course, it’s one of my favorite sandwiches—a chicken and bacon biscuit with honey. It’s one I love because the place that sells them serves them until 1 pm, and I can pick one up on my way to work.
“It was strangely soothing. I haven’t slept that well in years.” It’s an odd thing to confess when he’s mid-bite into his bagel. But it makes my stomach flutter either way. I love that I can be that comfort for him.
“I liked holding you,” I admit, hoping my sandwich covers the growing blush on my face.
“You’ll need to let me return the favor sometime.” He licks his bottom lip with heat in his eyes, sounding like he’s talking about more than just snuggling to sleep.
We continue eating in a comfortable silence with only the occasional hum of appreciation. My mind races, thinking about whether or not I should bring up his tattoo and scars. He might have been so out of it last night that he didn’t realize I noticed.
“Your tattoo is gorgeous,” I comment after wiping my lips with a napkin. Only bringing up the tattoo and omitting his scars is a way to open up the conversation without feeling like he has to talk about them.
Knight pauses, the wrinkled food wrapper sitting still in his hand as he searches my face. “I had a feeling you might have seen it.”
“What inspired the castle?” I ask. A Gothic castle is a simple way of explaining the magnificent artwork on his back. The imposing building with its pointed arches and sky-high towers combines perfectly with the ivy and other flora that take over the stone of the castle.
“My name, my past,” he replies, keeping his answer short. “It was an early artwork of mine. The first piece of art I felt truly proud of. I decided to get it tattooed during a rebellious phase shortly after the failure of my first marriage. I was nineteen.”
My mouth widens in shock as I stare at him, praying I’m properly expressing my concern. “You were married when you were a teenager?”
“I was, and it was a huge mistake I won’t be speaking more of right now, if you don’t mind.” Reaching across the counter, he grabs my empty wrappers and cup and walks over to toss them in the trash.
I can tell he’s nervous about opening up. His fingers were shaking when he grabbed the trash that was sitting in front of me.
Shit, I pushed him too far. Getting Knight to open up is a tricky balancing act. We all have our pasts, but something tells me his is especially filled with pain. He’s a gruff, self-isolated man for a reason, and while it’s obvious things are changing for him—for us—it’s still something to tread carefully.
Knowing he’ll berate himself if I show any hurt or apologize, I decide to leave things as they are for now. I want him to open up organically and not when he feels like he’s under some threat.
I walk around the counter, and Knight watches as I move, staying still at my approach like he doesn’t know how to react.
“Thank you for breakfast.” I smile softly. My arms reach around, into his open dress shirt, as I hug him tightly and rest my head on his chest. His body language feels stilted and chilled for the first second, but I refuse to let him go. After a moment, I feel his body give in to my touch. His chin rests on my head as his strong arms envelop me in a crushing hold. It’s as if he’s afraid to let go.
“Thank you,” he whispers, and it’s so low I almost missed it. I wonder what he’s thanking me for.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
KNIGHT
Runaway.
The past week and a half have been filled with secret glances and heavy petting during times we’re able to sneak away from everyone at the club. Fingering and tasting Vivian’s pussy during work hours should make me feel guilty, but there isn’t an ounce of regret by the time I finish devouring her. And she seems to feel the same, with her mischievous eyes and the satisfied smirk she wears every time she takes me into her mouth while hiding underneath my desk.
We even managed to keep the pretense of just being acquaintances at a shared family Thanksgiving hosted by Alek and Ezekiel. It didn’t stop us from making out whenever we found a moment to break free from the festivities, though.
Over these last weeks, I’ve begun to feel uneasy whenever I am away from The Garden of Eden for too long. Somehow, it feels more like home than my actual house, and I know it’s due to more than just Vivian.
I’ve made friends here despite the detached demeanor I try to portray. Letting people become close to me isn’t something that comes easily, but I’m comfortable calling Benny and my showcase partner, Domingo, my friends.
To many people’s confusion, I’ve made the administration office my personal temporary workspace. All to stay near her. Though I still occasionally commandeer her costume room when she is away or our schedules do not align.
