“Nothing,” I snap. “It’s a beautiful house. It’s perfect and huge, but…” I trail off, because really, what can I say? I don’t know how he knew, but if I were to design a house for myself, this is pretty much what I’d have picked. The downstairs living space is open plan, apart from the game room he had built for me, the laundry, and the mudroom. The master suite has a balcony, a huge tub, and a massive bed. A bed that we’ve had sex on four times now.
My body starts to heat as I remember the last time he fucked me. The way I pushed myself back onto his dick, promising to be his wife over and over so he’d fuck me and fill me and make me come.
Heat blooms in my cheeks, and I fight the urge to bury my face in my hands. I had no idea that sex could be so…all-consuming. When he touches me, it’s like my dirty fantasies come to life. Well, not all of them. I’ve definitely had some filthy dreams about calling a man Daddy and having him spank the brat out of me. But beyond the name—which makes me cringealmost more than it makes me squirm—Knight’s natural desire to take care of me does play into my daddy dom desires.
Nothing about him or us makes sense, yet it makes perfect sense all at the same time. I’ve seen how men fall for women in this town. I just never imagined I’d be the object of one of those men’s affections.
But then, Knight isn’t acting like the typical alpha male I’ve come to associate with Rockhead Point either. He might have thrown me over his shoulder this afternoon, but there was no chest beating or manipulative coercion.
In fact, everything about Knight is just quietly intense. Since the moment I opened the door to him this morning, he’s taken over my life, but he’s done it so quietly, so calmly that he’s already doing the unreasonable thing he’s suggested before I’ve even realized he was suggesting it.
His offers to help are almost always invasive and overstepping, but I can’t help feeling wanted, cared for, and desired in a way I’ve never experienced before. Getting dressed and leaving would be so much easier if I didn’t enjoy the way he’s doting on me. His high handedness at Betty’s is the only time he’s done something that’s actually crossed a line and made a red flag fly, which is insane considering he had me naked and was bathing me moments after he showed up today.
“I’m tired,” I say, not wanting to lose an argument about furnishing his house tonight.
“Then let’s go to bed,” he agrees.
Cleaning the kitchen until it’s spotless, he turns off the lights, then strides over to me. Instead of taking my hand, he scoops me off my feet and into his arms.
“You can’t keep carrying me,” I protest weakly, as I wrap my arms and legs around him.
“I enjoy carrying you, and you enjoy being carried. Why would I stop?” he asks, the question and rhetorical answer so simple, I can’t find a single argument to offer.
Climbing the stairs, he carries me straight into the bathroom, then places me on my feet in front of one of the his-and-hers sinks. Taking both of our toothbrushes from the holder on the wall, he puts toothpaste on them, then hands mine to me.
It’s a weirdly intimate feeling to stand side by side at the sink he chose forus, in the bathroom he designed forus, in the house he built forus,and not feel this growing need for him. But it’s hard to trust what I’m feeling is real when my past has proved that I shouldn’t trust myself when it comes to men.
He finishes first, rinsing his toothbrush one last time before he slides it back into the holder and turns to watch me. His gaze feels heavy as it settles on me, and I try not to look at him through the reflection in the mirror, but fail.
It’s not that late, but it’s been a long, turbulent day, and I’m tired, my limbs lethargic after multiple rounds of mind-blowing sex. But Knight doesn’t look fatigued at all. In fact, his posture is rigid, upright, and at attention.
The asshole, bratty side of me wants to shout “At ease” at him to see if he widens his stance, but I manage to keep the words inside. Despite how ridiculous this entire day has been, I like Knight. There’s something about his quiet, intense company that settles me. The sex is insanely good, and the way he wants to coddle and take care of me could quickly become an addiction.
He’s just so…sure. Sure about me. Sure about us. Sure that we’re exactly where we should be, and I envy him his surety.
I’m honestly not sure I’ve ever been as confident about anything as he is about the fact that, despite us being strangers and making zero sense as a couple, we are meant to be together. He’s sure that fate, or the weird mythical forces that seem to runwild in this tiny town, created us for each other, and that our happily ever after is completely assured.
When my teeth are clean and there’s nothing else I need to do, I slide my toothbrush beside his and take his hand when he holds it out to me.
Pulling the comforter back, he guides me to sit on the edge of the bed, then tugs his shirt over my head, leaving me naked and exposed. I should probably attempt to show some modesty, but what’s the point? He’s seen every inch of me today, and hiding from him now seems stupid.
His shoulders tense, then relax as he takes me in, assessing me with his eyes. Releasing my hand, he steps away, crossing to the closet where he undresses, folding his clothes before he places them in the hamper alongside the T-shirt he stripped off me.
Naked and entirely unashamed, he strides back to me, his cock swinging with each step he takes. He’s hard again, but he’s either unaware or disinterested, because he doesn’t even glance down as he closes the distance between us.
This isn’t the first time he’s been naked around me, but it’s the first time I’ve had the opportunity to really look at him. His skin is tan, with a smattering of freckles across the tops of his shoulders. His body is hard and sculpted with muscle, but he doesn’t look like he spends eight hours a day in the gym. It’s more like he’s just genetically blessed and built like a warrior.
His waist tapers in, and he has a triangle of muscle that showcases his impressive cock, and I have a sudden urge to lean down and lick him. The thatch of dark hair between his legs is neat, but not groomed, and I’d lay money on him smelling sexy and soapy and manly down there.
His thighs are insanely thick, and I wonder how wide I’ll have to stretch my legs if I were to try to straddle them.
I try not to compare Knight to Abel, but it’s hard not to, because everything that Abel lacked—a big dick, muscle tone, genetic lottery win—Knight seems to have in spades. The man striding toward me with single-minded intent is everything I had no idea was my ideal.
When he reaches the bed, instead of climbing in, he lifts me off the mattress, then crawls into bed with me hanging off him like a spider monkey. Once we’re in the middle, he lowers me to the sheets and curls himself around me, surrounding me with his body, his warmth, and a sense of security and protection I haven’t felt since I slept between my parents as a small child.
I don’t even realize I’ve closed my eyes before I’ve fallen fast asleep.
Heat cocoons me as my eyes flutter open, and all I see beneath me is smooth, warm tan skin.
