“I never said you had issues,” Porter muttered in a tight voice, passing through the stoplights and taking a right. “I admire that strength in you. It’s impressive how you never let something that someone else does affect you.”
She noted the hard edge in his features and the tension in his jaw. Yet she also knew what he said wasn’t quite the truth. The heartache in her past affected her all the time. But her father—how could she miss someone she had never met? “Well, it seemed like it needed to be said.”
“Okay, then, now I know.” He gave a quick smile that seemed strained before he added, “Mind if I ask what happened to your mother?”
“She passed away when I was young.”
Sadness touched Porter’s voice. “Sorry to hear that, kitten.”
“Don’t be.” She shrugged, feeling the car closing in on her and wishing he’d go a bit faster so she could get out. “Such is life.”
“Not a life any young child should have,” Porter retorted, grimly.
She couldn’t reject the notion that it was hard, of course it was. But that’s why she’d always done her best to forget it. Which she had been doing quite well, until Porter came into the picture. “My gran made life better.”
Porter paused, a muscle flexing in his jaw, yet his voice was soft. “I’m glad you had her. The store is cute, and I’m guessing it reflects your gran, since it’s not your style.”
Kenzie laughed, appreciating the topic change. “Do tell, what’s my style?” Then she sipped her latte.
“Hip. Edgy. Sweet.”
She nearly choked on her coffee. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me sweet.”
Porter gave her a quick look before focusing back on the road. “Maybe you’ve never let anyone see that side of you.” The corner of his mouth arched. “Maybe that’s what makes me so lucky.”
She didn’t have words to reply to that statement, and when he pulled the car over to the curb by the bookstore, Kenzie’s lips parted to say something to his declaration, but something caught her eye. Her muscles tensed in that very instant and she pointed. “That’s the guy who…”
Whatever Porter saw in her expression snapped his attention to the man striding toward her building. “Do not get out of this car.”
Her voice came out as a squeak of protest as he rushed from the car, slamming and locking the door behind him. She had thought Porter would approach danger with a cautious edge. Apparently, she was wrong. He charged toward it, ready to battle, and appearing more lethal than he ever had.
He looked like a man protecting what belonged to him.
—
Porter only got out “Motherfucker” and one solid punch before the large man spun on his heels, running away like the coward Porter thought he was. Porter considered chasing him down, but Kenzie was waiting in his car. He wouldn’t leave her behind. Nor would he take the chance that quite possibly it was a ploy to get Kenzie alone.
His muscles vibrated, fists clenching with the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He zeroed in on the man as he jumped into a Cadillac Escalade, and Porter spotted the license plate. Luck was on his side, as the streetlight illuminated it. Keeping the plate number in his mind, he rushed back to his car and grabbed his cell phone from his pocket.
Once he dropped into the driver’s seat, he dialed Sawyer and interrupted his greeting with “We’ve got the guy who attacked Kenzie. Run this plate.” He rattled off the number.
“Got it,” Sawyer replied. “Is Kenzie all right?”
“She’s safe.” Porter ran a hand over his face, so damn sick of all this tension burning through him. He hated knowing she had been attacked before, but he outright rejected the thought that it could happen again. “The fucker ran after I approached him.”
Humor sounded rich in Sawyer’s voice. “All you did was approach him?”
“When he looks in the mirror tomorrow, he’ll remember me.”
“Good on you,” Sawyer mused. “Let me dig a bit, and I’ll send whatever I find out to Chloe.”
“Perfect. Thanks.” Porter briskly ended the call and said to Kenzie, “We’ll know his identity soon.”
She frowned. “Great.”
Porter shifted on his seat, turning to face her. She didn’t seem as rattled as he’d expected, but maybe that was because he was there and she felt safe around him. He liked that thought. “You’re not happy that we’ve found out this information?”
“That depends,” she said with a shrug. “What are you going to do with that information?”
He narrowed his eyes on her. “Kenzie, he attacked you.”
She sighed, exiting the car. The warm air brushed across him as he got out, too, watching her over the hood of his car. She looked angelic beneath the streetlight. All curls and curves. Before she got too far away, he called, “He should be arrested.”
“I know that,” she replied, heading into her bookstore.
He followed her in and she locked it behind him and then typed the code into the alarm box. Porter didn’t like how quiet Kenzie stayed as he walked through the dark store and up the stairs to her apartment. In fact, he hated it enough that when he entered the apartment, he reached for her hand and tugged her to him. “Talk to me.”
She tilted her head back with a soft expression. “I’m…”
“Scared?” he offered, knowing she’d never say that word aloud.
She shrugged again, even if fear rested heavy in the depths of her eyes. “What if we arrest him for the attack on me and then it only adds fuel to an already burning fire?”
Her sweet body pressed against his, and he liked her there. Safe. “I understand why that worries you, of course I do.” He trailed a finger over her cheek, not blind to how she leaned in to his hold. “But to make this go away, we need to take action against them all.”
“Can we take that action after we’ve dealt with Adrik?” Her voice cracked a little, reflecting how afraid she was. “I mean, do I need to do it right now?”
“You can’t run from any of this. It’s going to follow you.” As he said that, he wondered if that advice was something Kenzie needed to hear, not only about Adrik, but maybe about what she fought in her soul. “That said, this is your decision, kitten. Not mine. What do you want to do?”
“I want to wait,” she said with the conviction he was used to hearing from her. “I want to see how this all plays out. And I really don’t want to make anyone angrier than they already are.”
Christ, he found himself trapped in her confident expression. Some women would be cowering with all this going on, but Kenzie took it all in stride. While he appreciated her strength, it also made him wonder how she’d become so strong. Only a person who had been through some hardships would be this determined to remain tough and not show understandable moments of weakness.
He yearned to be that source of strength for her, and to experience her letting him help her. More than anything, he ached to have her depend on him. And that one thought made him realize the depth of his feelings toward her. “Then we wait.” He moved to her fridge and grabbed two cans of soda before turning to her. “Got any munchies?”
She pointed to the cupboard by the fridge. “That’s it? No big, bad Dom arguing with me?”
He grabbed out the ketchup chips. “Yes, we’ll wait until you’re ready to go through with this all. I’m not in any rush.” As odd as it was, he had the sense he wanted to be there for the long run. “This is your life and your situation. But just know, if you’re in danger, that means I’m staying.”
An idea he liked. The longer this went on, the more time he had to figure her out. While he’d never say he was happy that she was in danger, he liked that he got this deeper insight into her that he wouldn’t have gotten simply playing with her on the weekends at Club Sin.
“Okay.” She smiled. “Who knew you could rein in all that testosterone.”
“You’ll find I can do many things, kitten.” The small signs of trust building between them pleased
him. It brought renewed hope. “I would think you would know that by now.” The way her eyes flared sent heat rushing through him as he gestured down the hallway. “Up for some mindless television and junk food?”
All that arousal burning in her features vanished in a second. “In my bed. Together?”
He sighed. Sometimes he didn’t mind the fight. Other times, like now, especially after seeing the man who attacked her tonight, it drove him mad. He ached to be close to her, keeping her safe. Not allowing her to push him away now, he moved toward her, seeing her eyes widen at his approach. He understood her reaction—of course he did. He knew why this all unnerved her, as having a man in her bed was something that he doubted she allowed often.
Kenzie played only in the dungeon. Intimacy seemed so foreign to her.
The warmth of her body enveloped him, and he lowered his voice. “On some things we can negotiate. On other things, we can’t.” He tugged on her hair, enjoying how her breath hitched. “This is one of those things.”
“But…”
He lifted a brow. “Go to bed, kitten.”
To his great pleasure, she did.
Chapter Thirteen
Kenzie jolted awake, staring at her clock on the nightstand. Three o’clock glowed through her dark room. She took a quick look around, wondering what had woken her. The hard body pressing against her back came as an instant relief. She rolled onto her side, discovering that she was sleeping in Porter’s arms in her queen-size sleigh bed. They hadn’t fallen asleep that way, and she couldn’t quite recall how she’d ended up in such a loving hold with him.
They had watched a pawnshop television show filmed in Vegas, pigging out on chips, and Kenzie realized she must’ve fallen asleep. She didn’t remember Porter turning off the television, nor did she remember being gathered into his arms. Porter being there settled the racing of her pulse. She wasn’t alone, and right now that felt so damn good.
She watched him sleeping soundly. He was a strong guy, always tough in nature and commanding the space around him. Now he was none of those things. Her smile came swiftly and her fingers tingled to reach out to stroke the side of his cheek, maybe even touch the plumpest part of his mouth that was parted as he breathed deeply.
Startling her more than her urges to touch him was the realization she had fallen asleep without being haunted by painful memories. For the first time in longer than she could remember she didn’t feel that sense of loneliness with Porter there.
That sent a cold bite of terror through her.
She couldn’t start needing him, like she seemed to now. Nor could she completely trust him, as it seemed she was beginning to. She knew deep hurt. It had been cemented into her, and she remembered a time when she loved someone enough to let her in. She also reminded herself how much it broke her when she was cast out.
The rainy afternoon kept Kenzie inside all day, and as she sat on the couch, a sudden urge to put on her shoes and run away from it all overtook her. She wondered if every ten-year-old had thoughts of leaving her life behind, but somehow she doubted it. More than anything, she figured that most young girls were happy.
Kenzie forgot what happy felt like.
Mom had come home an hour ago, drunk and vomiting all over the floor. No matter that Kenzie cleaned the floors, the smell seemed stuck inside and even opening the windows hadn’t helped. Most times the smell took a good day to completely leave Kenzie’s nose.
She would never become the woman her mom was now. That broken. That drunk. As she lowered her hand, she heard a creak coming from upstairs, so she left her spot on the couch where she was reading. Silence surrounded her as she journeyed up the wooden staircase and found her mom lying on the bathroom floor with her cheek pressed against the tile.
“Mom,” she said softly.
Bloodshot eyes met Kenzie, and she’d never seen a look like that on anyone. So much anger lived there. So much hatred. “It should have been you.”
Kenzie began shaking, unsure if she’d heard her mother right. She forced herself to move forward and grabbed a towel off the rack, placing it over her mother’s naked, frail body. “You need to sleep.” This wasn’t the first time her mother had said something horrible to her, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last.
Her mother grabbed her hand, lifting her head up off the floor. While her voice slurred, her eyes held venom. “It should have been you.”
Kenzie yanked her hand away, tears welling in her eyes. “What should have been me?”
“You should have died that day. Not my Joslyn.”
Tears rushed down Kenzie’s cheeks as a hurt so painful stormed into her. Mom had always said that Kenzie was her father’s daughter. It always seemed like that’s why Mom favored Joslyn. Kenzie knew she didn’t resemble her sister and her mother. She was sure that meant she had her father’s traits. Maybe that’s why Mom always seemed to hate Kenzie.
Staring into her mother’s eyes, she learned a truth that was as cold as ice. Loving someone gave them a way to hurt you. She’d never allow that to happen again. She turned away from her mother and whispered, “I wish it had been me, too.”
Kenzie yanked herself out of the memory, hating that her mind made her relive such horrible things. When would the haunting stop? That’s why she couldn’t let herself get too close to Porter. Not with this arrangement hanging over them. There was too much at risk, too much on the line. She had promised herself as that ten-year-old girl that she’d never let anyone hurt her again.
Happiness lied.
Love lied.
She felt the coldness lacing her veins and cursed the very thoughts running through her head. Doing what she did best, she forced herself out of her head and into her body. It always made her feel better. Maybe she’d gone soft with Porter, allowing her heart to get in the way, but she craved with desperation to feel more like herself.
To be the naughty submissive who often got in trouble. To push against the will of a Dom who would push back and send her to places that made her forget everything. To do something that would warrant a punishment.
She gave Porter a push so he lay on his back, and she waited to see if he woke. When he mumbled, rubbing his head against the pillow and falling back into sleep, she grabbed the thick quilt and slid it down his body. As the blanket slid over his waist, she restrained her gasp when she spotted his beautiful naked body.
Definitely a Dom, she mused. Porter wanted to sleep naked, so he did, because he felt no need to do otherwise. She loved that about Doms. No insecurity. No restraint.
When they’d gone to bed to watch television, he had kept his jeans on, and she hadn’t realized he’d undressed. She licked her lips at his soft cock, excited over the idea that soon he’d be hard for her. That soon if she tried to control him, he’d flip her over and possibly take her from behind, dominating her.
She moved down the bed and grabbed her hair, tucking it over one shoulder, and then lowered her mouth to him. With one long lick, she slid her tongue over his soft shaft. Another lick came before his penis jerked beneath her. She peered up, discovering Porter’s heated stare, and then she licked again, and his low groan followed.
He raised a hand and slid it across her cheek as she swept her tongue over him in a few quick swirls. She grabbed his now hard cock, stroking it as she continued to tease him—doing all the things that she wanted to do to him.
On her terms.
Under her control.
She took him deep into her throat, feeling him strain beneath her. As she pulled her mouth around him, it surprised her that he stayed silent, relinquishing control to her. Though now her mind was trapped in the pleasure she was giving him, in the ownership she expressed over his cock.
Up and down, she caressed his shaft, making it harder and wet for her. She wanted more than anything else to make him ready so she could demand her pleasure. The deep moans Porter made urged her on. The sensual noises that came only from a man bound by pleasure.
Her mouth stretched to take
him all in as her nose hit his shaved pelvis, and she sensed her growing need to feel this beautiful cock inside her. Her clit ached with every slide of her mouth and wetness coated her lower lips as his moans deepened, sending her rushing into his spell of desire.
Unable to stand it any longer—needing more of him—she released his cock and climbed onto his lap. Porter reached for her pajama top that wasn’t sexy in any regard, but a simple cotton nightie. He yanked it over her head, and then his hands went to her breasts, caressing them, tweaking her nipples into firm points.
She shifted her hips against him, spreading her moisture over his cock, prepping them both. Staring into his eyes, she didn’t see the Dominant side of him. Sure, she knew it would always be there, but he seemed to be controlling himself, allowing her to take the lead. The tightness in his jaw indicated that he wasn’t pleased at the role reversal. Yet she needed him—craved to take this man deep inside her.
Her clit throbbed and her inner muscles clenched, wanting to own him. She angled her hips, and his cockhead pushed against her folds before she lowered down onto him. Her eyes fluttered as he filled her—so perfectly he fit inside her; the sensation compared to nothing else in the world.
Opening her eyes, she rose up and down, sliding herself over him in a slow dance. He ran his hands over her breasts and down her sides to rest them on her thighs. She reveled in her power and loved that he let her do this to him. Control felt damn good, and maybe in the midst of all this hell, she needed it more than ever.
She ground herself against him, rubbing her clit along his pelvis. Her mouth fell open as pleasure stormed into her, igniting her moans to mirror his. She moved faster, rubbing harder, giving herself the climax she craved. The orgasm she demanded, not only to satisfy her but to prove to his Dom beneath her that she could get off without his mastery.
More important, that she didn’t need him. Maybe she was proving that to herself, too. That Porter was a Dom, a man used for casual sex, and that after this she’d feel more powerful. No longer would she wait to be given what she needed.
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