“Woman,” he growled, gripping my arm and flipping me onto my back before crawling over me. “You are just asking for it, aren’t you?”
“Oh, please, big strong scary ex-con! Don’t hurt me,” I fake begged, fluttering my lashes all dramatic-like. “I swear, I’ll never draw out your demon again.”
“Too late, little girl. You lit the fire. Now it’s time to go up in flames.”
He grasped my knees in his palms and yanked my legs open before leaning in and attacking me with his mouth. I shouted out my surprise and pleasure and gripped his shoulders as he showed me no mercy. Tongue swirling, he pressed against my nub, bringing me to the peak faster than I thought was humanly possible.
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my—”
He thrust a finger into me and I came, sobbing out my release. It went on and on until one final pulse had me shuddering and sinking deep into the mattress under me.
“Holy...” Staring up at the ceiling of my bedroom, I panted and I tried to come down from my unexpectedly sudden high. Knox’s face appeared above mine, and he grinned. “You may be on to something. Could be it’s physically impossible for me to hurt you. I end up…amorous instead of violent when you set me off.”
“And, oh, do I appreciate your amour,” I murmured on a dreamy sigh.
He stroked his fingers through my hair as he slid his gaze over me. “I don’t mind it myself.” He curled a red tendril around his pinkie. “You know...I don’t know who I am anymore. But I know I still love you. I always have, and I always will.”
Overcome with emotion, I set my hand against his cheek. “I’ve always loved you too, Knox. I’ll do anything and everything to help you find yourself again.”
He nodded. “I know. And Pick’s set me up with a trainer at the gym to help me vent off some of the rage. It’s actually been helping.”
“Good.” I slid my palm up over his prickly scalp. “See, you’re already on your way to working past this, but…” I bit my lip, not sure if I should even suggest what I wanted to say next. I absolutely didn’t want to say anything that would close him off.
“But?” he asked, looking at me with brown eyes that were so much like the old Knox Parker, I drew in a breath and dove in.
“Might I suggest one more thing?”
He grinned. “You might as well. It’s going to fester and bother you until you do.”
I scowled. He knew me too well. “Okay, fine. I think you should see a psychiatrist.”
He began to withdraw, but I grabbed his arm. “Please, just...think about it. There are other people who have survived terrible, traumatic things, just like you have. And there are other people out there who can help you work through it. Bottling it up wasn’t doing you any good. You need to let it out, to let it go, and then you can finally be free of it.”
Blowing out a breath, he shook his head and sent me a look that said there was no way, but what came out of his mouth was, “If….if I agree to do this, there’s only one way I’ll allow it to go down.”
“How’s that?” I asked, shocked he was even considering it.
“I get to pick the shrink.”
Nodding immediately, I said, “Absolutely. Of course. You should only go to someone you feel completely comfortable with.”
A smug grin crossed his face. “Good. Then I pick you.”
I groaned. “Knox, I’m serious. I meant a professional.”
Cocking an eyebrow, he challenged me with a single look. “Thought you said you didn’t need a fancy degree to help people.”
“Damn it,” I muttered. “I hate it when my own words come back to bite me in the butt.”
“Just get on Google or whatever you do and look up tips to help me,” he urged, “like you did for that kid with the nightmares. If anyone can fix me, it’s you.” He pressed his forehead to mine. “Only you.”
“No pressure or anything,” I grumbled even as I curled in close to his warmth.
“Nah. You got this.”