The Knight (Stolen Duet 2)

I fought to get closer. I knew it was wrong for me to like his touch, but the feeling he stirred deep inside me felt so right. I felt grounded even when I was flying high.

“There’s no price I won’t pay to keep you, Mrs. Knight.” I started to come just as he kissed my lips and drove his fingers deeper so his palm cupped my pussy. He forced my tongue to mate with his as my body came apart under his command. When my last whimper subsided, he gripped my soaked panties in both hands and tore it down the middle. I gaped down in shock as he let the scraps fall to the floor at our feet.

“Why did you do that?” I forced between pants. I wasn’t talking about my ruined panties. Shame coursed through my veins as I leaned against the wall in order to stay upright.

“Because, wife, I don’t need to tell you who you belong to. You show me every time I touch you.”

“That’s not true.”

“The way you came on my fingers says differently.” Crudely, he slipped the fingers he used to expose me past his lips as he watched me hungrily.

“You’re disgusting,” I spat to hide how turned on I was.

“And you taste amazing.” He stepped back, and the phantom grip on my lungs eased the further he moved away. “Join me in the shower,” he ordered over his shoulder. I didn’t move. I had no intentions of showering with him. He disappeared into the bathroom, and I listened as the sound of running water soon followed. “You have about twelve seconds left before I come get you,” he shouted over the running water.

I thought about making a run for it before I remembered he had locked us in. With only six seconds left, I quickly searched his suit pockets for the key but came up empty.

“Looking for this?” He stood in the door of the bathroom, wearing a smug grin, and holding the key in his hand. Neither of us spoke as he stalked across the room. I didn’t cower, and his grin grew into a full-blown smile as he lifted me bridal style and carried me to the shower.* * *AFTER WE had showered, he gave me one of his shirts that fell to my knees and led me by the hand back to the sitting room. Caylen was no longer in a playing mood when we found him. He sat on the floor crying as Lucas and Z stood over him with startled faces.

“He just started crying!” Twiddle Dee accused. I shook my head at Lucas and picked up my hungry, red-faced son.

“Did either of you consider feeding him?” I hid my amusement when the light bulb flickered on and their faces relaxed. “I need my bag,” I said to Angel, who shook his head as soon as I spoke.

“There’s food in the kitchen. I’ll take you.” I decided not to argue when my son’s cries threatened to blow my eardrums. Arguing would only take longer to feed Caylen, so I followed him downstairs. Each room was never more than a few steps away in our rundown apartment. The estate, however, was like a small city with walls built around it to keep us “safe.”

As we made our way to the kitchen, I noticed the staff working in harmony. They dusted, wiped, and rushed from room to room to complete their tasks. It must take a small army to keep a place this size polished and running smoothly. I could easily get lost if I wanted to. The house wasn’t any less intimidating without the music or finely dressed guests or Angel’s grandfather. If anything, the silence was haunting.

The enormous kitchen was made up of stainless steel and white marble. Angel had, at his disposal, appliances fit for a world-renowned chef. He moved around the kitchen pulling pots from carefully selected spots and ingredients for breakfast from the largest pantry I’d ever seen.

“All of this is a bit much for just one person, isn’t it?”

He set a bowl of applesauce in front of me with a spoon as he answered blandly, “I’m fully expected to produce an heir and plenty of back up heirs.”

“What about heiresses?” I challenged as I fed Caylen.

“You tell me,” he said, wiping the smirk off my face. His burning gaze met mine when I looked up. “Would you want that?”

I laughed to disguise my uneasiness. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I?”

“I won’t have your baby,” I denied with less aplomb. “This marriage isn’t real.” My gaze dropped to my empty finger. It was the only evidence I had that my father didn’t betray me.

“Your father has had ample time to figure out his biggest regret in life.” He turned the silver knob on the stove, turning on the flame, and setting a frying pan on top. “Are you curious to know the answer?”