Page 14 of Obey

“Good. Then get out. You’re both banned,” she says, and I realize she’s the manager.

My heart drops into my stomach.

I try to take another swing at Knives, wanting to make him hurt for taking one more thing away from me—the only outlet I fucking have—but the security guy holding me tightens his grip.

I’m breathing hard, fast, and my eyes find Carl in the crowd.

He looks stunned, and I realize I’ve probably lost him, too.

I’ve lost everything all over again.

If I could pound Knives into the fucking floor, I would.

“I will call the cops if the two of you don’t stop and get out right now,” the manager says looking between us.

I shake my head in a jerky motion. “You don’t need to call the cops,” I say, my voice ragged.

Knives wipes at his mouth. One of his eyes is bruised, and I feel vicious satisfaction that I did that to him. He yanks his arm away from the guard and straightens his shirt. “This club is just for weak little pussies, anyway.”

This club had been my safe place.

Maybe that makes me a pussy, but I don’t fucking care.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.

The manager nods, but her face is still hard. There’s no appealing this. They won’t risk this kind of thing happening here again. Her word is final.

The security guy holding me relaxes his grip, and I nod curtly to him when he lets me go. I stalk toward the door, avoiding Carl’s gaze on the way. I stop only long enough to grab my shirt and phone from my locker.

Knives follows me out, and of fucking course his car is parked next to mine.

I ignore him, going for my own, but he grabs my arm.

I nearly swing at him again, but the last thing I need is for the manager to call the cops after all.

“Don’t you ever, ever put your hands on me again,” I hiss, jerking out of his grasp.

Because if he does, I don’t know what I’ll do to him.

Knives grabs my head, and I ready myself for another blow.

I have no idea what to do when he kisses me instead.

FOUR

KNIVES

I don’t know why I kissed him.

The anger, the way he’d fought back against me, the high of the fight—I can blame any of these things.

It doesn’t change the fact that I’ve got him boxed in against his car, our lips mashed together. I bite on his bottom lip, and he groans in response. I use that slight part in his lips to thrust my tongue inside, forcing the kiss to deepen.

I half-expect him to bite my tongue, but he doesn’t. He’s always so open for me, even pissed off, even hating me. Because I can tell that right now, that’s exactly what he’s feeling.

He kisses me back anyway, desperate and needy, and he wraps one of his legs around the back of mine to urge me closer. I’m not even sure he’s aware he’s doing it.

I push my pelvis against his. I’m still half-hard from the adrenaline, and I want him to feel it, to feel me.

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