He lets out a huff and sits right in the center of the bed where I had been only a moment ago, and with all the supplies in my hand, I make my way back over to him, dumping everything on the little snack table. I climb up onto the bed, not stopping until I’m straddling his lap, and I’m pleased when he voluntarily lays his hands on my thighs, letting me assess them properly.
They’re bad. These aren’t just the kind of injuries someone gets from punching someone once or twice. These are from repetitive, full-force strikes with the intention to cause as much damage as possible. “If this is what your hands look like, I’d hate to see how Elias turned out,” I murmur, distantly noticing that, apart from his hand, there’s not another scratch on his body, meaning that Elias didn’t even get a chance to swing.
“It’s settled,” he tells me as I clean him up, sucking in a breath as I realize just how deep some of these cuts are. I’m gonna have to give him a few stitches. “He’s going to turn himself in to the police with a full confession. He won’t be able to hurt you again.”
I close my eyes and take a breath, the deepest relief coursing through my veins. “It’s finally over?”
“Yeah, doll. It’s over.”
“Assuming he actually turns himself in, that is.”
“Right,” he mutters, his thumb brushing back and forth across my thigh. “He knows what will happen if he chooses not to confess.”
My gaze shifts to his, a shakiness in my voice. “You’ll kill him?”
“Yes, doll,” he says without a hint of hesitation. “He made it clear that he has no intention of giving you up. He wants to break you, and if he is not wise and does not hand himself over, then he leaves me no choice. There isn’t a world where I wouldn’t do exactly what it takes to protect you.”
“Even if it meant going against everything you believe in and taking a life?”
“I take lives every day,” he reminds me.
“This is different, and you know it. What you do at work is a necessity, and those steps are taken in order to save the lives of innocent people. Taking your brother’s life . . . That would be murder.”
“If it comes down to a choice between you or him, I would choose you every time,” he tells me. “This isn’t just a question of picking the woman I love over my own flesh and blood. It’s choosing right over wrong, good over bad, an angel over the fucking devil. There is no choice, doll. It will always be you.”
My heart races, and I lean into him, my lips brushing against his neck. “You burn, I burn, right?”
“Exactly.”
He lifts his bloodied hand and holds it against the back of my head, as we each sit in our thoughts, and when my body begins cramping up, I pull back and let out a heavy breath. “Okay,” I finally tell him. “You want the good news or the bad news?”
“Bad news.”
“The bad news is there is no good news. You need stitches, and you’re not about to change my mind. So buckle in, it’s finally my turn to poke you with a big stick.”
Half an hour later, I climb off Knight’s lap after bandaging his hands, and as I start to clean up after myself, he holds up his hands and shoots me a dark stare. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with these?”
I glance over his hands and smother a laugh. I might have gone a little overboard on the bandaging. He looks like Murray the Mummy from Hotel Transylvania. “Oh,” I say, a smile pulling at my lips as I stride over to the door and flick the lock, watching him over my shoulder. “For what I have planned, you won’t be needing your hands at all.”
Knight arches a brow and watches my every step as I make my way back over to him and climb onto the bed. I get to my feet, standing over him much like I had right in the beginning, and as I slowly begin to peel my hospital gown up past my thighs, his dark gaze becomes hooded and full of desire.
“Doll,” he groans. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine,” I whisper, pulling the gown even higher before slipping it right over my head. “But you know what will make me feel even better?”
“Mmmm, what’s that?” he asks, his gaze roaming over my body as I step right into him, his bandaged hands lifting to my ass as he dips his head and brushes his warm lips across the front of my thigh.
“You.”
Knight groans and pulls me in even closer, taking my thigh and lifting it over his shoulder, opening me up to him. He doesn’t hesitate, and as I grip his strong shoulders, he closes his mouth over my clit, sending an intense wave of pleasure pulsing through my veins.
“Oh God,” I groan, tipping my head back as he holds me still.
His tongue works me like the perfect, obedient soldier, rolling over my clit with slow, lazy circles as his fingers dig into my flesh.
My knees start to tremble, and with every swipe of his tongue, the pleasure increases, sending wave after wave of pure satisfaction coursing through my body. It’s electrifying, but asthe pleasure increases, so does my need, and suddenly, just his tongue isn’t enough.
“Knight,” I groan, the need clear in my tone.
