“God,” I groan, my chest heaving as I finally begin coming back down from my high, my world well and truly rocked. My body relaxes, and I collapse against him as his strong arm circles my waist, holding me as though I’m the most precious person that has ever existed.
“You’re going to be the death of me, doll,” he murmurs, his lips pressing against my temple.
A laugh rumbles through my chest. “Me?” I challenge, smirking up at him. “If anyone is going to be the death of you, it’ll be your own doing. Did you not see the way you tore those bandages off with your teeth and then shoved your openly wounded hand inside my cooch?”
Knight laughs. “You know I’m clean, and besides, you practically poured a whole bottle of antiseptic solution on my knuckles. I’m sure it’s fine.”
“Oh sure,” I laugh, playfully smacking at his chest. “Because blood contamination or cross-infection is nothing but a myth. You realize I’m going to have to do a handstand with my legs out while you pour pure bleach into my cooch and then jiggle me around to clean me out.”
“Pour pure bleach inside you like what? Like I’m pouring a jug of orange juice?”
“Oh yeah, but you’ll have to take it slow. I really don’t know how much volume a vagina can hold before it experiences leakage. Now, if I were right side up, I could give a good estimate. But judging by the size of your, uhhh . . . package, I would say it could hold quite a lot.”
Knight shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “Right, I’ll make a note to pick up a few hundred bottles of bleach,” he says. “But how important is the jiggling portion of this mission?”
“Oh, that’s the most important step. You’re really going to have to shake me like you’re mixing a cocktail. You know, really get in there. I find it’s best to do it in open spaces.”
His brows furrow, and he glances down at me. “Wait. Isn’t the vagina self-cleaning?”
“Hey, don’t come in here with that factual bullshit. I wanna be shaken around. And by shaken, I mean thrown up against awall. Oh, and instead of burning chemicals inside me, I’d prefer something a little more . . . firm.”
“Like a little red vibrator?”
My eyes widen in horror at the thought of having that devil vibrator inside me again. “Oh hell no. I would rather die than have—”
There’s a loud thump at the door when someone tries the handle and all but steps straight into the wood. “Oomph. Fuck,” I hear Amelia say from the other side of the door before trying the handle and violently wiggling it. “Harper, did you lock this door?”
“Uhhhh . . .”
“Is Knight in there?”
“Ummmm . . . no.”
“Oh my God. You’re such a liar. You’re fucking your boyfriend in there, aren’t you?” she scoffs, trying the handle again as though it might magically unlock itself. “Harper-Rayn Madden. Detach yourself from that fine man-meat and open this door right now. You are on strict bed rest.”
I groan and flop my forehead against Knight’s chest. “Do you think if I close my eyes, she might disappear?”
“No, but I think if you don’t open that door soon, she’s going to find a screwdriver and literally take the door right off the frame.”
“Shit,” I say with a sigh, pulling away from him. “I guess it’s showtime. But just saying, if that bitch doesn’t discharge me, we’re gonna have some words.”
22
KNIGHT
Bed rest and Harper are not exactly compatible anymore, and after having her home for the past week and a half, she’s already run out of things to do. So she does me instead, but you won’t catch me complaining about it.
After a little less than forty-eight hours of observation in the hospital, Harper was discharged, and the moment she was home, she started working on healing, desperate to reduce the bruises and swelling that marked her skin. I could tell by her expression every time she looked in the mirror that she was picturing Elias’s fists coming toward her face and remembering the feel of her head smashing against the bathroom tiles.
She put herself on an icing schedule: on for ten minutes, off for ten minutes, and then switch positions, all while begging Dr. McKullan to allow her to type up reports from home. Apparently, Harper’s idea of bed rest doesn’t exactly line up with the rest of the population’s, and after bugging Dr. McKullanrelentlessly, he had no choice but to cave. He sends her two reports per day, but she smashes through those in less than an hour each.
Every day for the past week and a half has been the same. Ice. Water. Reports. Fucking. Repeat. It’s been great, but come Monday morning, she’ll be heading back to work day shift. At least she’ll be able to face her colleagues without the bruises or swelling weighing her down.
I’m proud of her, and despite how she may or may not be driving me crazy at home, it’s a good kind of crazy. Nobody could ever convince me that having Harper move in with me wasn’t the best step I have ever taken in life. She’s my whole fucking world.
Getting to wake up each morning with her in my arms is the epitome of life. My whole world could crumble, but as long as I get to hold her, nothing else matters.
It’s late on Wednesday afternoon, and I don’t know how my afternoon workout session with Ace and Diesel in my home gym turned into a party. One minute the boys and I were fucking around with the weights; the next we had Izzy, Laith, and Harper holding up score cards every time one of us lifted a single weight.
