Knots (6 page)

“Do you think a robot would let you snuggle in bed with him all night long?” he teased.

“No,” she chirped and looked away.

He laughed. “Okay, breakfast. Lighter conversation would probably be better as well.”

“Control—it’s back,” she said.

Was she mocking him?

He smacked her right ass cheek and chuckled harder. “Breakfast—it’s important.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, sounding like she was taking military orders.

Oh, fucking Christ. He was throbbing now. She had no idea what she’d just done to him.

He swung himself out from under her and left the room in a rush.

The second he was locked in the bathroom, he turned on his shower. And before he could even consider washing up, he had to stroke one out, imagining her saying those two words to him over and over again as he made love to her and showed her what she meant to him.

When he was done cleaning up, he could hear the water running through the pipes in the wall. She was showering in her bathroom on the other side of the house.

He got dressed, called in sick at work and made them breakfast.

Twenty minutes later after the water had shut off in her bathroom, she still hadn’t emerged.

He went after her even though he knew it was really early in the morning and most people weren’t as energetic as he was at this time of day.

Rap, rap, rap.

“Jean, you okay?” he asked through the door.

“Fine.”

“Fuck,” he growled to himself. There was that accursed word again. “Let me in so I can see for myself.”

“No, really, I’m okay.”

“Open the door,” he repeated, leaning into the door frame.

The door opened, and her eyes were red-rimmed, her hair wet and a tangled mess, and once more, her nipples were poking through her shirt.

Cold. Again.

He could warm her up.

Fuck, that would be bad.

The only way he’d be able to control himself was if . . .

“What can I do to help?” he asked softly.

His hand reached out, and the backs of his fingers traced down her cheek, chasing after a tear.

“Nothing.”

“I can hold you—would that help?”

She nodded, bit her upper lip and limped her way over to his waiting arms.

“Did I make you cry somehow?”

“No,” she said, her voice tight.

“Liar. What did I do? Was it because I got out of bed and left abruptly?”

“Why do you have to be so direct and ask me such piercing questions?” She smacked her hand on his chest and slid her forehead across his left pec.

“Answer me first—what did I do?”

“Yeah, I thought . . . Well, you took off, and I thought you regretted allowing me to sleep with you last night.” She gasped and covered her mouth again like she had earlier, then released it. “I didn’t mean, fuck—I mean, goddammit, it was—well, it was
not
like
that
. . . I meant sleeping, not
sleeping
with you . . .”

He imagined her luminous eyes going wide in mortification. Once more, she made him smile.

“It’s okay.” He pulled her back into a tight hug. “I knew what you meant, and you’re really cute when you get flustered.”

“I am?”

“You are.” He kissed the top of her head again.

Fuck. He needed to be muzzled or some shit.

His mouth was wet from her dripping hair.

When she pulled away, giving him a weak smile, he wiped the back of his mouth.

“Oh, shit! Sorry—I’m making a mess all over your pristine hardwood floors and getting you wet, too. I should’ve blown dry my hair.” She reached out and ran the pad of her thumb across his lips.

Her touch, even as slight as it was, sent the majority of his heated, very
male
blood, directly to his dick, making him ache uncontrollably.

His right eye twitched, and then his lids went heavy—his breathing went shallow.

“I don’t mind my floor getting wet. It happens . . .” His mind flooded with dozens of ways he’d like her dripping fluids onto his floors and elsewhere in his house.

He swallowed.

“Breakfast?”

“Breakfast,” he agreed.

He took her hand, pulled her toward the kitchen, and after she sat down, a guilty expression swam in her eyes.

“You made all this?” she choked out.

“Too much?”

“No, not too much for a former football player, but I’m just . . . My God—I’ll be eating this the entire week I’m here,” she said.

“Week?” he blurted.

“Oh, I . . . Well, I’ll be here a few days . . . Right? Is that okay?” Her voice was soft and faint at the end when she was asking his permission.

He grabbed the two plates off the counter and started to serve her up some breakfast. “I already told you—I’d love you to stay as long as you want.”

“Even if that’s indefinitely?” she joked.

“Sure—why not?”

Her tongue darted out and moistened that dip on her bottom lip. She pressed her mouth into a tight line, then exhaled through her nose. “Uh, because you’re a bachelor with needs, and no man wants to have a female roommate around when he’s bringing chicks back home to his place for—”

She cut herself off, swallowed and stared with a blank expression at her breakfast.

“Continue.” He smirked.

“I don’t think I should,” she said, reaching for the generous plate of food he dished up for her. “Eggs? Wow. I love them, but Pono was allergic.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, you ordered them once at a restaurant, which I thought was odd. You almost drooled on them, then inhaled the things, and he told me why you did that afterward.”

“God, why am I so ill-mannered around you? You must think I’m disgusting,” she said with a groan and rolled her eyes, then covered them with her right palm and settled her head into her hand.

He pulled her hand away and kissed the back of it. “Not. At. All. I told you—you’re honest and refreshing, and you go ahead and inhale those eggs. See if I stop you.”

She shoved the toast aside off her plate. It landed on the dark granite countertop. After an outburst of adorable giggles from her, she curved almost protectively around her plate like a starving animal and ate those eggs so fast he hoped she was still breathing.

He plated her up some more.

She ate those, too.

“Did you want some bacon?” They were still in the pan. He didn’t want to offend her because some women were horrified if he even mentioned bacon around them.

“God . . . bacon? Are you fucking kidding me?”

He grinned and cocked an eyebrow at her. Dirty mouth was right—when she was shocked by something. Oh, how that made him want her even more.

“I love bacon!” She leaned over, tried to grab two pieces and his instincts kicked in.

Swaaaat!

He smacked the back of her hand.

Her face immediately dropped. “You hit me.”

“You deserved it.” He smiled bigger.

“To be hit?”

“To be taught.”

“With hitting?” She leaned away from him.

“With correction. Did it hurt?”

“My feelings, yes.”

“Did I hurt your feelings when I smacked your ass in bed?”

She turned dark red instantly. “Well, no, but . . .”

“But what?”

“Okay, yes, it did hurt my feelings because right after that is when you ran away.” She frowned. “Sometimes I don’t understand you.”

“Ask me when you don’t understand, and I’ll explain.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and stood up, moving off the breakfast stool.

“You know what, it’s fine. I made a mistake. I can see that now. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I just thought that . . .” She started to walk away. He grabbed her by the arm, then pulled her back for round three.

She was in his arms, pressed up against his chest.

“In my world, when something’s not right, it’s corrected. I didn’t want to hurt you, just teach you. Can you understand that?”

“I guess.”

“Not I guess. This is not a multiple choice question. It’s a simple yes or no. Can you understand that?”

“Yeah, I can. But I don’t want to be smacked that way.”

“Okay, how about this—next time, I’ll give you a warning. If you disregard my instructions, then I can smack you like that if you do it again.” He bit his bottom lip and bared his top teeth at her while he growled. Fuck if he didn’t want to bite her more than anything. Tear into her and take complete control.

She nodded. “I guess I can deal with that.”

“No more guessing.” He pinched her ass playfully to test her in this situation. Her breath hitched, and she jumped a little, but she didn’t get upset about it. This was good, so he kept explaining, “That’s your first warning. And in my kitchen, if I’m the one cooking, you may ask for more food, but you don’t simply take it out of the pan.”

“Okay.”

She sniffed and gripped his shirt.

God, he’d upset her that bad? How had he misjudged?

“Shit—too much—I’m sorry.” He leaned over, scooped her up and managed to grab two strips of bacon along the way.

“What’re you . . . Put me down,” she squealed and tried to wiggle out of his arms.

“Do I need to warn you on this, too? When you need affection, I’m gonna give it to you. Which means if I hurt your feelings, you’ll automatically receive a hug if I’m not in the middle of correction.”

“What kind of . . . I thought you were an agent for singers—nobody said anything to me about you correcting people. Did Pono know you were . . .”

“Yes, he knew.”

“Are you . . . ?”

“Am I what?” He held his breath and then sat down, taking her with him, securing her in his lap.

She went silent.

“If you’re not going to answer me, which I would normally address, then I want you to eat what you wanted so badly,” he said, placing a strip of bacon at her lips.

Her mouth sealed shut, and she turned away.

“Oh, gonna be difficult, huh?” His jaw clenched. He wanted to spank her so badly, but it wasn’t the time. She was raw emotionally and needed time before he showed her what he really was. No sense in scaring her off.

She balled up into his chest, hiding her face away in his shirt.

“You’re gonna eat it, because I know you want it. Your pride isn’t going to get in the way of what you want—I won’t allow that under my roof.”

“Then I should probably find another place to stay for the next few days,” she said, muffled by his clothing.

Oh, fuck. Spanking. Lots of them. She needed it.

His hand flexed, and he gripped her tight into him. “No, you fucking won’t. You’re safe here, and I know you want to stay.”

She went silent, and the tears started up. Her back shook, and she cried for several moments.

“Do you think you disappointed me?” he asked softly. He stroked her hair like he did last night when he’d held her.

She shook harder and nodded.

“You didn’t, sweetie. I just . . . Fuck, I thought you could handle it, and I figured this was a basic rule most people had. Did I scare you?”

“No.”

“Then why are you crying so hard?” He cupped her cheeks, tilted her head back and kissed her forehead.

“I . . . I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. Tell me.” He kissed the corner of her right eye. It was moist.

She reached up and wiped the salt water off his lips like she had after her shower when her hair had moistened his mouth. His eyes drifted closed, and he licked his lips after her finger was gone.
Fuck. Do that again . . .

“I want you to like me,” she said, her voice tiny and full of dread.

“I do—so much. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“People don’t hit when they like somebody,” she said.

“You’re telling me, in grade school, when little Timmy Jones pulled your pigtails, you didn’t punch him in the arm? You didn’t play around like that ever?” He yanked her hair to prove his point.

She gave him an exasperated look—her head tilted to the side a little. “I . . .”

“Did you?”

She blinked, and her expression went from annoyance, to shock, a tinge of rage and then finally morphed into mortification.

“I thought so. And didn’t you ever get in the mood with a guy you really liked, to bite him or pinch him or even pull his hair?”

“God, this is . . .”

“Tell me,” he insisted.

“Yeah, of course I fucking did, but . . .”

“But what?”

“I don’t do that with my friends,” she said, pulling away.