Killer

by Heather C. Leigh

  “Don’t use such foul language,” she hisses, glancing around the fancy restaurant to see if anyone is listening.

  “Then don’t ask me again! No. The answer is no! I’m not going. Until you can respect my wishes, I think it’s better if we don’t speak for a while.”

  I stand up and grab my purse.

  “Britton, stop making a scene.”

  “Ha!” I laugh humorlessly. “You worry more about appearances than you do about me. When you get a clue, call me. Until then, don’t bother.”

  I spin on my heel and storm out of the upscale restaurant, not caring who stares or who whispers about me “making a scene.” I broke down and drove today. Turning the engine and driving off, I make it all the way down the block before the tears start to flow. I’m not one to pity myself. Hell, I’m not Britton Shelton Reeves, victim, survivor, or whatever label people want to slap on me. I’m Britt Reeves, a young woman trying to live her life without being crushed by constant fear and anxiety.

  My mother will never understand the fact that even though I don’t remember that day, I carry the burden of it on my shoulders just as undeniably as the concealed scar on my head. Pity makes it worse. Standing in front of crowds, all of them feeling sorry for me… No. I can’t. I won’t.

  Thankfully, my apartment isn’t too far. The ten minutes it takes to drive home leave me emotionally exhausted. The crying leaves me hollow and drained. I stagger up the flight of stairs to my unit, too tired to even feel my usual anxiety.

  I stop in the hall to dig out my keys when I hear my name.

  “Britt? You drive? I didn’t think you had a car.”

  My head jerks up in time to see Keller climbing to his feet, glancing between me and my shiny red BMW, a gift from my parents when I finished school.

  Keller was sitting outside my door?

  Speechless and overemotional, I feel the keys slip from my hand and clatter to the floor. Keller begins to approach, but hesitates, his eyes showing rare uncertainty. “Keller,” I choke, running into his arms.

  When his strength envelops me, every wrong becomes right, every anxiety melts away, every doubt disappears. I feel calm, safe, whole. The spark of life that’s been missing inside burns bright, lighting me up like a solar flare, sizzling white-hot through my veins. Keller brings me out of the darkness and into the light.

  Keller spins, slamming my back against the wall, caging my head between his thick biceps. He thrusts his hips forward, pressing his hard length into me.

  “Keller.” I slide a hand under his shirt, letting it rest over his heart. Its rhythm is strong and vital, offering its strength to me.

  “God, Britt. Why can’t I stop this?” He brings his mouth down on mine, lightly at first, skimming his tongue over the seam of my lips. I open up, giving him full access. Keller groans, his hips bucking forward again as he thrusts his tongue into my mouth, sensual and deep.

  His hungry mouth devours the small whimpers I make. Keller grabs the sides of my face, angling my head so he can plunge even further inside. I slide my other hand into his shirt and drag both down his muscled back, digging my nails in, marking him as mine.

  Keller rips his mouth away, panting, his eyes glazed over. “Inside.”

  I scoop up my discarded keys, taking a painfully long time to undo the deadbolts with Keller behind me, pressing his hardness into the cleft of my ass.

  The door opens and we stumble through. Keller kicks it shut and grabs me for another kiss. I’m about to protest, needing to lock the door. But this is Keller. He’ll keep me safe. He leans in and bites my lip, drawing blood, and I gasp. All thoughts of deadbolts fly out of my head.

  “Bedroom,” he rasps, trailing his teeth down my neck. Electricity crackles from the base of my spine, making me aching and near desperate to have Keller fill me up.

  He pulls back, landing a hard slap on my ass. “Bedroom,” he repeats, sharper this time.

  Lust coursing through me, I lead Keller down the tiny hallway to my room, wondering what I’m doing. Why is he here? What could we possibly have together beyond sex?

  Then I think about what Keller is offering, here and now—the chance to relax, to sink into pleasure without worry or fear, to live, to claim that spark even if it’s only for a few hours—I can’t say no. But can I stay detached?

  As we undress I decide that I’ll take whatever Keller gives me, even if I eventually break. I’d rather feel alive for a little while than never feel anything again.

  And right now, I want to feel.

  Keller

  I follow Britt down the tiny hall to her even tinier bedroom. I should win a fucking award for the restraint I show in not just shoving her, face-first, against the wall and plowing into her tight pussy.

  The minute we step inside the room, I wrap one arm around Britt from behind, curling it around her waist. My other hand slides around her throat, fingers spanning ear to ear, holding her against my chest.

  “You’re mine.” I punctuate my words with a hard thrust of my hips, digging my cock against her lower back.

  Britt hisses before sucking in a sharp breath. She tries to roll her head back to rest it on my shoulder, but I tighten the grip on her throat, keeping her in place.

  “Answer me,” I growl, nipping at her ear. “Tell me you’re mine.”

  She whimpers, but refuses to answer. I keep her still, using the hand on her neck, while the other shoves her leggings down to her knees and my own shorts as well, releasing my aching cock. By walking forward, I maneuver Britt to the edge of the bed and push her down, holding her in place with a rough hand to the back of her neck. With one foot, I kick her feet apart as far as they will go with her leggings still around her ankles. The moan coming from her sparks fire in my aching balls.

  “Tell me you’re mine, Britt.” I fish a condom out of my shorts and quickly roll it on. When the only noise out of her is a quiet keening, I bend my knees and thrust up into her, driving deep until my thighs rest against hers. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight. Tell me I’m the only one who can have you like this.” I lean over her body, pushing her T-shirt up so my sweaty chest can slide against her soft skin.

  “Yesssss,” Brit lets out a long, wailing moan. I fist her hair, wrenching her head down into the bed so I can bite the soft flesh at the juncture of her neck. Beneath me, she writhes and screams out, “God yes, Keller. I’m yours!”

  “Fuck yeah.” I straighten out so I can grab her hands. Britt’s groan is muffled by the pillow when I yank them behind her back. Both of her wrists pinned in one of my hands, I jerk them up to the point of strain on her shoulders. It’s easy to hold them in place at the uncomfortable angle while continuing to slam into her pussy over and over.

  Fuck, the things she lets me do to her. My mind is spinning with all the ways to degrade, to ruin, to worship her body with mine.

  Britt turns her head to the side so she can breathe. Her eyes are glazed over, her mouth parted. I want to bite and suck on those plump, wet lips, but refuse to release her arms to do so. She must want the same thing, because she begins to struggle to get out of my iron-clad grip. The resistance sends a jolt of ecstasy through my cock, pulling my balls tight.

  “Oh fuck.” My head rolls back and my eyes close for a brief second, fighting the intense pleasure that threatens to spill over from having Britt at my complete and utter mercy. “Fight me, baby. Go ahead. You’ll make my fucking day.” She gasps and her body ripples around my dick, tightening, milking me right to the edge of release.

  “Keller…” Her breathing is ragged. Britt’s pussy begins to clamp down and spasm.

  “You’re just dying for it, aren’t you? You want me to hurt you, to take you, to do whatever the fuck I want to you,” I growl. Her mouth opens and closes wordlessly. I thrust harder, each snap of my hips stealing her breath so she can’t respond. I lean over her bound hands until my mouth is as close to her ear as I can get. “I’ll give you what you need, Britt.”

  With my free hand, I slide
it beneath her body to wrap around her neck again. Carefully, I squeeze her throat just enough for breathing to require effort. Britt cries out and her pussy clenches so hard it disrupts my rhythm.

  “Jesus! God, Britt. Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

  “Keller… I need…”

  “I know.” My hand leaves her throat and glides down her abdomen to her slick, hot pussy. I find her swollen clit and pinch it between my fingers. Britt shatters beneath me, screaming my name as she comes.

  I let go of her arms and pull out. In one quick movement, I flip Britt onto her back to ram back inside that wet channel while she’s still climaxing, and drive home hard and fast. I slap her clit with an open palm and her eyes roll back in her head, her entire body shuddering. My balls tingle, squeezing tight, and my own release roars through me, jetting out of my cock so hard I nearly black out from the intensity of it.

  On my final thrust, I collapse on top of Britt, both of us sweaty and panting. When I pull out, I feel her shiver from the loss. After tossing the condom, I lift her legs and place them on the bed, then curl up next to her, holding her tight against my side. Britt’s hand lies over my chest, her fingers drawing gentle circles on my skin.

  It’s so faint, so quiet, I almost miss when Britt whispers, “Thank you,” right before she falls asleep.

  The words pierce right through my walls, the tough outer shell I’ve kept in place for the last ten years. They act like a defibrillator, zapping my black, soulless heart into beating again, and I know right then and there, I can never, ever go back.

  Britt

  “There’s been no further damage, Miss Reeves. Your EEG is normal, your vision unaffected, and your nerves are all responding properly.” Dr. Marshall slips his penlight in his pocket and steps back from the exam table. “I’d say you are a very fortunate young lady.”

  “So, I’m okay?”

  Dr. Marshall’s mouth curves down. “You did not suffer lasting or permanent effects from your recent head injury or the seizures.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.” I fiddle with the hem of the threadbare cloth gown they made me wear for my post-hospitalization follow-up visit with my neurologist.

  The kind doctor leans against the cabinet that holds a sink and other medical supplies and crosses his arms over his chest. “Because okay is not a word that will ever describe you, Miss Reeves. You suffered a severe brain injury. Yes, time has passed and you haven’t had any further complications, but you won’t ever be back to the way you were before the incident.”

  “The incident”—even my doctors use that term to describe the day that took so much from so many people.

  “I know that, Dr. Marshall. I’m asking if I’m the same as I was before the recent seizures.”

  “Then yes. I see no evidence of any progression or changes in the electrical output of your brain.” I exhale in relief, but it’s short-lived. “However, it is even more imperative that you take extra precautions to avoid any further head injuries. Especially after having proof that a blow to the head can and will bring on very serious seizures. Take your medications exactly as prescribed and be very, very careful.”

  I nod, swallowing down the knot of anxiety that blossoms in my throat. “Okay. I will.”

  He smiles. “Great. I’ll see you in three months for a repeat EEG and MRI.”

  “Thanks.” Dr. Marshall leaves the room. As I get dressed, the worry comes back. I can’t tell anyone at work about this, about how I have to be cautious not to bump my head again. I’ll just have to be extra vigilant on my own. Just the thought of everyone at the gym tiptoeing around me like I’m made of glass makes me nauseous.

  And Keller. I can’t lose what I have with him. I need him, his strength, the safety of his arms, the way he makes me feel. Without it, the memories straining to burst free from my mind will take me down in no time, reducing me to an anxious, cowering mess.

  No. Just like everything else in my life, I’ll handle this on my own.

  * * *

  “You’re going to need to go easy for a day or two. Ice and rest, no sparring, light stretching and workouts only.”

  I pat the fighter’s ankle and tell him he can go. He grimaces, but manages to give me a weak smile before sliding off the exam table. Sawyer North is one of my favorite fighters. Always calm, always polite, he’s unflappable under stress.

  “Thanks, Britt.”

  “Anytime, Sawyer. I’ll see you around.”

  He nods and leaves my office. When the door opens, the sounds of the gym permeate the small room, grunts, talking, the sounds of gloves hitting flesh or punching bags, trainers shouting over the din so their fighters can hear them. It’s been the daily backdrop of my life for several years. Usually, I take comfort in it, the sounds of men, of their incredible displays of strength. The last few days, however, I’ve kept to my office as much as possible. The anniversary of “the incident” is getting closer, the dreams getting more frequent, the memories becoming more clear with each passing day.

  My only respite is the time I spend with Keller. I sit behind my desk and grin at the discomfort that reminds me of last night, of Keller’s large hand coming down, raining blows across the tender skin of my backside as he pounded into me until I nearly passed out. I nearly giggle I’m so giddy. Keller gets me. Like really gets me and what I need, and he’s more than happy to be the one to provide it. Keller is pure alpha domination, both in the ring and in the bedroom, and I love every minute of it. No one makes me feel safe or quiets my mind like Keller Bishop.

  Done typing notes into Sawyer’s file, I stand up and go to close the door for privacy. As I reach for the knob, a hand smacks against the outside of the door, shoving it open and nearly knocking the thick wood into my head. I stumble back, my heart flying in my chest.

  “Max! You almost hit me with the door!”

  My god, does he purposely try to hurt me? Is that what’s been going on?

  His face falls and his eyes go wide. “Oh my god, Britt. I’m so sorry.” Max extends a hand to keep me steady and instinctually, I leap back out of his reach. I do not want his hands on me. Something about his touch creeps me out. Max’s brow lowers and his eyes narrow at my reaction, the dark color piercing right through me like a shard of ice.

  Pissed off, I hold up my hands. “Stop barging in here, Max. You need to start knocking.”

  “Whoa, Britt. Relax.”

  That’s it. This guy has almost given me a seizure more than once and I have to relax?

  “No, Max. I’m tired of you sneaking up on me. Either knock before you enter, or stay away!” Before I can slam the door in his face, he slides inside my office. I frown at his refusal to respect my request. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Why can’t you just accept my apology, Britt? What’s with you lately?” Max comes toward me, forcing me to take another step back. His face crumples into a deep scowl. “It’s that asshole, Killer, isn’t it? You’re fucking him so now you can’t be my friend. What, he won’t let you?”

  “He has—”

  “Everything to do with it.”

  Max and I spin around simultaneously to face the source of the deep, scary growl. Keller is standing in the doorway, filling the entire frame with his enormous body.

  Max gapes. “I—”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Keller snarls, cutting off any excuse Max was about to offer. The fighter steps forward, crowding Max against the exam table.

  “Keller…” I start to tell him to back off, to let Max leave. I don’t need him fighting my battles for me, but stop. The truth is, I want him fighting my battles for me. I want him to protect me, to keep me safe, to eliminate any doubt in my mind that when he’s around I have nothing to fear.

  Keller is nose to nose with a visibly shaken Max. I don’t blame him for being afraid. Not one bit. Keller’s liquid silver eyes are cold and hard, like chips of flint. That frightening glare would render anyone incapable of speaking.

  “I’ve already warned
you several times to stay the fuck away from Britt. Now I’m going to make sure you listen, you little fucking pervert.” The venom in Keller’s voice makes the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Goose bumps sprout on my heated skin.

  “Y-You can’t hit me,” Max says, his eyes darting around the room, searching for an escape that doesn’t exist.

  “Keller…” I say in a hoarse whisper. “Please don’t.” The thought of Keller throwing away his career because of me, because of someone like Max, is unthinkable.

  Keller’s eyes flick over to mine, and the warmth is back for that brief second we share before they return to Max, hard and cold once more. “Get the fuck out of here.” He wraps a huge hand around Max’s arm and pulls him over to the door. Keller opens the door and shoves Max out, not looking back when Max stumbles and falls to the ground. Keller merely slams the door shut behind him.

  “You didn’t have to—”

  “Yes, I did.” I can tell by Keller’s rigid posture and tight jaw that there will be no arguing with him. Keller isn’t one to mess with, and Max has pushed him to his limits.

  Keller stalks over, shirtless and barefoot and so breathtakingly beautiful. He puts his fingers under my chin, keen eyes roving over my face. Satisfied, Keller steps back, running his hands down my arms and sides, checking to make sure I’m unharmed.

  “I’m fine. He didn’t touch me.” I grab his hand with mine and lift it to my mouth, pressing a kiss on his palm.

  “He better not fucking touch you or speak to you like that again,” he snarls, his face twisting into a bone-chilling grimace. “I’ll kill him.”

  “You can’t hurt him, Keller. You’ll lose everything.”

  The big fighter stares at me, gray eyes shimmering. I suppress a shudder when that strange memory flicks through my mind again as I meet his silvery gaze. It’s there, just out of reach as I try to grasp it.

  Silver eyes. Huddling with a girl. Boots. Gunpowder.