He lingers with his lips against mine, then with a groan pulls away. There is a pained look on his face that I can’t decipher. It definitely doesn’t say, “kiss me, Rose!” In fact, it says the exact opposite. Matthew looks horrified.
Embarrassment floods my cheeks and suffices every single cell in my body. I quickly step away from him. His fingers slip through the strands of my hair with no resistance. With another growl, Matthew grabs ahold of my hand and pulls me against his chest. Gently hugging me to his big body.
“Don’t think I’m ending this because I don’t want you. I am merely taking care to remember that you are injured and in no condition to finish what we start.” He speaks quietly, yet fiercely.
I can’t help wondering what exactly a simple kiss would start. Suddenly, I’m feeling very thankful of Matthew’s level of self-control because whatever it is that could happen next, I am not ready for it. I don’t know if I will ever be ready for it.
“Yo, boss man, we going up or what?” Kisten calls across the parking garage.
Matthew pulls away and rolls his eyes. “You do know I’m the one that signs those very generous paychecks of yours, right?”
Kisten smiles broadly. “Yep. Just like you know who saves your ass.”
I can’t help my snort of laughter, and I do my best to hide my smile behind my hand. Slade pipes up, “Better get used to Bevis and Butthead here, they’re a laugh riot.”
Another snort escapes as I laugh, causing the three manly men to smile at me like they were just given their deepest desire and maybe chocolate cake too.
“Now that is too fuckin’ adorable,” Kisten says.
I can feel the pink heat of a blush spreading across my cheeks. I try to remember the last time I laughed hard enough to snort—an obnoxious quirk I can’t help. I hate it.
Matthew leans down and presses a kiss to the top of my head. Kisten turns away, focusing on the elevator. “It is pretty damn cute, sweetheart, been a long time since I’ve heard you laugh.” Idly I wonder what he means by that since I haven’t laughed since long before we met. Not much reason to laugh for more years than I care to think about. “Are you hungry?” he asks, pulling me out of my dark thoughts.
Just the thought of food has my stomach growling and him smirking, “Maybe a little.” The beast that my stomach has apparently become growls again. Matthew’s smirk turns into a grin, distracting me as the elevator doors slide shut, closing us inside. The little jolt of it moving brings me back to my current situation. I’m enclosed in a small elevator—smaller than usual—which feels even smaller because of the three big men filling it up.
I’m not a fan of small spaces and anxiety, my old friend, is rearing her ugly head. I close my eyes, and focus on my breathing, willing the panic away. I imagine the world around me disappearing until it’s just me. Nothing can frighten me here in the safety of my own mind. No matter what happens to my body, here in this place, nothing can touch me. Slowly, I use an imaginary paintbrush to paint a safe hideaway. This one takes shape into a place I haven’t seen in so long, I forgot it existed. The musty smell of earth fills my nose. The cool, damp air makes my curls turn to frizz. Above me, boards creak as someone crosses the big porch.
I hold my breath waiting for them to pass, though no one knows about this place but me. It’s an oasis for me when I can’t take another minute of my newest foster family. This was my favorite hidey-hole. Though, it’s not quite right… I concentrate for a moment, and a backpack appears beside me and a book pops into existence in my lap.
Why is this the safe place my subconscious decided on? This is one of my forbidden memories. This is from before. When there was still hope in my heart that life will get better. This isn’t a place I want to go back to. It hurts too much. I try to wipe the slate clean, focus on something else, but it refuses to disappear. I take a deep breath, letting the memories wash over me…
“Rose,” his voice washes over me, tugging on the threads of my memory. “Rose…” I reach for that oh so familiar voice. So familiar, and yet, it doesn’t fit. “Rose,” the voice snaps, and my eyes pop open, landing directly on a very concerned looking Matthew. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. Just hungry.”
“Great, I’m starved.” Kisten claps his hands together loudly. The abruptness of the clap and his booming voice has me jumping out of my skin. The sudden movement pulls at my healing wounds and draws a whimper from my lips. The pain is instant and sharp. I suck in a breath through my teeth, trying to breathe through the pain, knowing it’ll pass quicker if I relax my muscles. Which would be way easier if my heart would stop racing, and I could find my lungs. Loud noises are a trigger for my panic attacks. It causes an instant and visceral response to do one of two things: run and hide or freeze in horror of what’s coming for me.
I close my eyes and concentrate on slowing my heart. Easier said than done when you’re hyperventilating. At least my panic has numbed the pain in my back. Sometimes adrenaline is great. Though I have zero doubt, I’m going to be sore when this little episode is over.
Distantly I hear my name, but I can’t respond. All I can do is shake my head and hope that whoever it is understands that I’m trying to keep my shit together. If you’ve never had a panic attack and haven’t had the pleasure of trying to keep yourself together… imagine what it feels like to be burned. We’ve all done that… either touched a hot pan, had grease splatter on us, or burned ourselves with our flat iron. Now imagine feeling that burn and not jerking away from it. Imagine standing still while you burn until the fire turns itself off. That’s what it feels like. Well, at least, one of the ways it can feel.
The beauty and the curse of panic attacks and anxiety is that there are no typical responses. Sometimes you burn, and sometimes you run. Sometimes you suffer in silence while the world goes on around you, clueless. Other times you make a spectacle and fight like a hellcat.
This time I’m burning. Rooted to the spot, unable to jerk away from the fire because the fire is inside me. The fire is me.
The world shifts and I worry that the spots in my vision are the first hint that I’m about to pass out. It won’t be the first time my brain did what I consider a hard reset. There are times when passing out is a blessing. Losing consciousness, a mercy. I fight back the dizziness because I don’t want to faint here.
Matthew won’t let anyone hurt me. I’m safe. I repeat that mantra over and over until my breaths come steadier, and I’m able to open my eyes without fearing I’ll faint. When I open my eyes, I’m confused for a moment. I’m no longer standing beside Matthew. In fact, I’m on the opposite side of the elevator and backed into a corner. In front of me, Slade’s hulking body blocks my vision from the rest of the space.
It takes a moment for me to realize I’ve got a death grip on his arm. It’s troublesome that in my panicked state, I reached out to a virtual stranger. Just like with Matthew, I feel an instinctual sense of safety when it comes to Slade. It’s a little disarming. I want to second guess myself. To not trust my instincts, but I push that aside. I’m choosing to trust Matthew and that he wouldn’t lie about me being safe with Slade and Kisten.
I release my death grip from Slade’s arm, and he turns to look at me over his shoulder, a resigned look in his eyes. I hear a scuffle and an all too familiar sound of flesh hitting flesh. I try looking past Slade, but it’s impossible. He’s an impassable mountain. When I attempt to move past him, he blocks me with his arm, and ever so gently holds me back.
“I don’t fucking care that you are my best friend if you ever scare her again, so help me, it will be your last fucking move,” Matthew bellows. Well, it sounds like what I imagine Matthew possessed by a demon would sound like. Terrifying, fierce, and deadly. There’re some shuffling noises, a bang, and more grunting followed by a menacing ‘got it?’ from Matthew.
I try again to see around Slade’s back, but he’s an immovable force of nature. His words come back to me from the parking garage a few min
utes ago—was it only a few minutes ago? It feels like we’ve been in this elevator for years. Time means nothing when you’re suffering from a panic attack. One second is an hour. One minute a day.
The scuffling noises cease, and it’s silent except for heavy breathing. After several heartbeats, Kisten speaks. “Fuck, dude. You know I’d never scare her on purpose. I didn’t realize how skittish she is.” There’s a sniffing sound, and it makes me wonder if Matthew hit him in the nose. The fact that I recognize the sound is disheartening. “Rose, sweetheart, you know I didn’t scare you on purpose, don’t you?”
“Not your fault.” I try my best to sound confident and sure, but I have a feeling I don’t do that great of a job.
The elevator dings and the doors slide open. It’s a crazy reminder that a hundred years can pass by in the space of a few short minutes. I’m slightly stunned by the violent reaction Matthew had toward Kisten over something so trivial. There’s this small part of me that’s secretly thrilled that he’s willing to go up against even his best friend to protect me. But if he’s going to fight everyone who makes me jump, he’s never going to stop.
I’m skittish, always have been. Well, maybe not always, but I can’t remember a time I wasn’t afraid. Slade turns and looks at me instead of following Matthew and Kisten off the elevator. “Told you, I’ve got you, little bit. I’ll protect you from the boss himself, if necessary.”
Tears well in my eyes, but I blink them back. “Thank you, Slade.”
“No thanks needed. I want you to remember that you can count on me.”
I have to swallow around the thick emotion that’s growing in my throat before I can find my voice. “I won’t forget.”
Slade gives me a firm nod, then leads me off the elevator and into the biggest condo I have ever seen. Even to my untrained eye, I can tell you this place is top-of-the-line everything. I thought the penthouse above the club was fancy, it has nothing on this place.
Exquisite art covers the walls and the dark hardwood floors shine. There is a plush rug between two cream-colored sofas that looks so thick and luxurious, I want to take my shoes off and bury my toes in the soft pile.
The last place I lived; I didn’t dare step on the floor barefoot. The rooms were all done in a piecemeal of horrible throwback to the 70s carpet—more likely it just hadn’t been changed since the 70s—it was sticky, stained, and smelled horrible. The whole place was awful. I even wore flip flops in the shower because it was so gross that a jackhammer and a pressure washer couldn’t make a dent in the gunk that was permanently fused to the bathtub.
I try to imagine what the bathroom here looks like. I bet it’s spotless. I wonder if there’s a bathtub big enough for me to soak in. I haven’t had a real bath in so long. I’ll find out soon enough, I’m sure. For now, I continue taking in this amazing apartment, in awe of the fact that I’m actually going to be staying here.
On the other side of the plush couches—couches that I can see myself curling up on with a cozy blanket and a good book—are floor to ceiling windows. The view… there aren’t enough words in my vocabulary to describe it. The sun is setting in the distance giving the view of Central Park an almost otherworldly appearance. It’s breathtaking.
Though it’s Matthew who takes my breath away when he steps around Slade and gently cups my cheek. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He rubs at the back of his neck, looking nervous for the first time since I met him. “I lost my shit when I saw that look of fear on your face. I never want to see you afraid again.”
Feeling braver than I am, I put my hand on top of his. “I appreciate that you want to keep me safe—from everything apparently—but Kisten is right, I am skittish. I always have been and probably always will be. It’s something I’m used to so you should try to not freak out every time I jump, okay?”
Bravely, I take a step closer to Matthew until I can wrap my arms around him in a hug. Slowly, he wraps his arms around me in return. Taking care to be gentle with my back. I rest my head on his chest over his heart. The steady thumping is soothing. I can’t quite explain it but being in his arms feels like coming home. Honestly, I’m not sure how I even recognize the feeling. I’ve been without the comforts most people associate with a home since my mom died when I was fifteen.
My stomach picks that moment to growl loudly, causing my cheeks to flame from embarrassment. Matthew pushes his lips to my hair, and after a few more seconds of holding me, he pulls away. “Let’s get you fed.”
“Okay.” I try to smile, but it’s lost in a grimace when he moves his arms away, causing my shirt to pull away from the worst of the wounds on my back. He narrows his eyes then spins me around. Whatever he sees leaves him less than happy if the curses falling from his lips are anything to go by.
Without a word, Matthew grabs the hem of my dress and pulls it over my head in one quick movement. I gasp and cover my breasts. Even though both Slade and Kisten just got an eyeful of my nakedness, neither of them comments or acts like anything is off about Matthew just stripping me down in front of them.
Matthew’s breath hisses through his teeth, and he makes a few other grunting noises as he gently examines my back. “I knew it was too early for those stitches to come out. You’ve reopened a couple of the wounds. Damn you, Daniels. This is why I got so fucking mad. Look what you did.”
Kisten gives me an apologetic look before walking around to look at my back. I wince when he makes a pained sound. As if my wounds are a physical blow to him. I don’t know these guys well, but I know enough to know that Kisten is going to beat himself up over this and that Matthew is only one misstep away from beating up his best friend all over again.
“Holy Fuck. Damon did this? In our club? In a public scene?” Kisten’s voice is incredulous.
I don’t know if he wants answers to his questions or if he’s just trying to work out how something like this happened at Matthew’s club. A place that is supposed to be safe for its members. I don’t dare answer. Matthew is treading close to the edge already, and I don’t want to draw any closer attention to the fact that his club isn’t nearly as safe as he thought.
“You should’ve let me beat him to death for this,” Kisten says coldly. “In fact, I still might.”
I look over my shoulder to see Kisten’s eyes glued to my back in a cartoonish look of horror. Matthew’s eyes are burning pits of flame that promise retribution, and he’s looking straight at his best friend. I know he doesn’t want to fight with Kisten. He’s pissed and wants to lash out at someone, but Kisten doesn’t deserve his wrath.
“Matty, it wasn’t his fault.” I’m not sure where the nickname comes from, but I like it. I like thinking of him as my Matty and not Matthew or Master Bennett that everyone else calls him. With downcast eyes, I quietly accept the blame. “This is my fault. No one else.” I can’t look at any of them as I admit, “It’s all my fault.”
“Shut the fuck up, Rose,” Kisten barks. “This is Damon’s fault. He’s a piece of shit that we should have dealt with a long fucking time ago.”
“Don’t you fucking yell at her,” Matthew growls, taking a threatening step towards Kisten.
“Both of you calm the fuck down. Why don’t you focus on what’s important right now?” Slade snaps. “Come on, little bit, let’s get you cleaned up. Hannah will tend to your back and then make you dinner.”
A pretty redhead steps out from behind Slade and gives me a shy smile. “I’m happy to be of service,” she says softly.
“Hannah, Rose will be staying with us for the foreseeable future. She’s ours to take care of while she’s here.”
Matthew lets out a low growl when Slade uses the word “ours” in conjunction with my name. Warmth blooms in my chest at the possibility that he doesn’t want to share me.
The redhead—Hannah—looks up at Slade with so much love and adoration it’s painful to see, especially when Slade returns the look with hardness. It doesn’t seem to faze her, though.
“
As you please, master,” she says quietly.
Slade blows out a breath. “Hannah—” he starts but seems to think better of whatever he was going to say and closes his mouth.
“Actually,” Matthew speaks up, “If you wouldn’t mind making a quick meal for Rose, I’d like to help her get settled. I’ll take care of her wounds.”
Hannah gives Matthew a bright smile, and I suddenly want to poke the cute redheads pretty green eyes out. “I’d be happy to, Matthew. Any allergies I should know about?” Even though she was looking directly at me when she asks, it’s Matthew who tells her about my allergy to fish and berries. Hannah gives Slade one last longing look before practically skipping toward what I assume is the kitchen.
“That girl,” Slade says with a shake of his head. “She’s going to be the death of me. How did you move from Master Bennett to Matthew? You’re her boss, and she uses your name like it’s no big deal. I’m her friend, and I’ve been trying to get her to call me Slade for years, and she refuses.”
Kisten laughs then puts his hand on Slade’s shoulder consolingly. “You’ll never be just her friend. One of these days, you’ll realize exactly what you are. I can’t wait to see the day.”
Slade brushes his hand away and storms out of the room, causing both Matthew and Kisten to laugh. Whatever it is that’s going on between Hannah and Slade has lifted the tension between Matthew and Kisten. I feel bad for being happy for the distraction.
Matthew turns to me with a smile. “Come on, love. I’ll show you to your room, and we will get your back tended to.”
“Okay, thank you.”
He leads me down a hallway with several doors. He points out his home office, two guest bedrooms, a bathroom, and a room that looks suspiciously like a library. Lastly, he shows me the master suite. I expect him to turn back towards one of the guest rooms, but he leads me into his room and straight through to the attached bathroom. He fiddles with the taps on a tub that I swear is big enough for half a dozen Matthew sized men. It’s even better than I imagined.
Unforgettable (Black Rose Doms Book 1) Page 7