Chapter
Four
Kitten
“Strike three, Kitten.”
My stomach flips six different ways. I can’t see his face or read his expression, but his shoulders are tight and his whole body is rigid with tension. All moisture leaves my mouth and travels south. “Wait? Why?”
“Rude response to an honest answer.” Before I can argue any more, he adds, “And worst of all, you don’t believe you’re precious and rare.”
“Because I’m not.”
“Strike four!” He groans and throws his arms up in the air, pacing back and forth. “If it wasn’t so wildly inappropriate, I’d spend the next half hour showing you exactly how important you are.”
A mix of thrill and disappointment battles my body. It’s like having a perfect chocolate cake in front of you, but told you’re not even allowed to smell it, much less taste. Curiosity leads to temptation and I want more. “Why would it be inappropriate?”
He touches his forehead and his chest rises and falls. “You’re vulnerable, injured, and just suffered a major trauma.”
I almost laugh, but stop myself. I spent the last three years traumatized and injured thanks to my ex. If I let that stop me, I’d never experience anything. And I’m getting this is sort of a ‘once-in-a-lifetime experience’ vibe. “You said I'm safe here and that you weren’t going to hurt me, right?”
He stops pacing. There’s a cautious lilt to his voice. “Yes.”
I let the blanket fall off my shoulders, finally earning the warmth I’ve been craving. “I’m tired of being scared and worthless.”
“You’re not …”
I put my hand up and close my eyes. “I want to feel something else. Anything.” The confession lifts a weight I didn’t know had been holding me back. “I feel safe with you.”
He whispers, “Fuck.”
“And I don’t want those assholes to be the thing that haunts me at night. I’d rather erase it with a different experience.” I give a little shrug and nod to the wall. “And I’ve never been in a sex club. There’s always been a lingering curiosity that I’ve never been brave enough to explore, and right now, this is my opportunity.”
A few steps across the room and he stands in front of me. “It’s a terrible idea, Kitten.”
I like my new name. My lips curl. “I’m not exactly known for making excellent life choices. Are you?”
He huffs. “No. Bad choice after another for me.”
“Please, Fox.”
He lifts my chin and tilts my gaze to his. At least, I assume that’s where his eyes are. My mind supplants a wicked smirk where his lips would be. “You’re going to hate it,” he pauses and presses his forehead to mine, “or absolutely fucking love it. Are you sure you want to be my Good Girl?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. I mean, how am I supposed to handle that? His voice is deep and low with a little singsongy timbre, hismotions smooth and well-rehearsed. He’s nothing like the men I’ve been attracted to in the past. I'm curious, and that will be the death of me. And why does “good girl” affect me the way it does? “Yes, please.”
He sits on the couch and motions for me to sit on his lap. I walk over suddenly uncertain of what I’ve gotten myself into. It's unnerving how I fit so perfectly on his lap, as he wraps his arms around me. This masked stranger cradles me, his fingers smoothing my hair as we sit in silence. I can feel his breath on the top of my head. This is not the sexy encounter I expected. No, this is moreintimate.
I don’t understand why this is a punishment. All it’s doing is leaving me with my quiet thoughts. He smells nice. And I’m about to say that to him, but he whispers, “Shhh.” It’s the stillness, the silence that’s getting to me. No distraction from my emotions or memories. Tonight was horrible, but I sort of expected it. Terrible, but not surprising.
How did I let this happen? And a new question bubbles to the surface: if Fox hadn’t saved me, would Meat Hands be done with me by now? Or would Bad Breath have made good on all his threats? Would anyone believe me if I had crawled my bloody body to the police or hospital?
The sobs well up and escape my body violently. My chest rattles with every heaving breath. Tears soak my face. He wraps me up in the blanket as I cry into his chest.
“It’s okay,” he whispers. “You’re safe.”
Tears fall for all the times safety was out of my reach. Whimpers escape for the backhanded comments that made me feel worthless. My arms tighten around him because I don’t want to be alone.
A question grows in my mind. Is this the first time I’ve ever felt safe? And it’s with a stranger, not a boyfriend.
