Page 122 of Fighting Mr. Knight

I don’t even know if he’s listening. His hands come up to palm my breast and I feel the familiar thickness press against my lower back.

“There’s nothing you could do that would make me mad at you.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” I grumble.

“Come on, I haven’t shown you the best room yet.” Taking me by the hand, he pushes open the door to the left of the gym to reveal a smallswimming pooland a hot tub.

My jaw drops. “Remind me why we spent the last few nights in my crappy one-bed flat?”

He shrugs. “I wanted you to feel comfortable.”

I snort. “And you didn’t think I’d feel comfortable in a house with views of the city and a swimming pool? This is how you attract bunny-boilers. I’m never leaving this place. I’m moving in.”

“Only if you follow the house rules.”

“Oh yeah? What are the rules?”

He strips his shorts so he’s fully naked. “No clothes in the pool area.”

His cock is already swollen and hard.

No matter how often I see his thick masculine body covered in tattoos, I still shiver with intimidation.

I laugh to cover up how flustered I am.

His lips quirk as he takes his cock in his fist. “There are other house rules you’ll have to abide by.”

He’s about to tell me when the phone in his other hand starts ringing. “Fuck,” he says, his face darkening as he reads the caller ID. “Sorry, Bonnie, I’m expecting this. I need to take it.”

I give him space and shimmy out of my summer dress revealing a very expensive red lingerie set purchased yesterday. I know Dad owes him part of half a million but if Jack rips this set, he’ll be buying me a replacement.

He licks his lips approvingly.

I catch snippets of the strained conversation. Wicks. Belmarsh prison. Unease swirls in my stomach as I watch his mood darken.

He blows out a breath through his teeth, shuts off the phone and storms past me out into the boxing gym with such intensity my breath hitches.

I follow after him and watch him as he throws bare-fisted vicious punches at the boxing bag hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room.

I’ve never seen him like this. The look in his eyes scares me.

“Jack.” I wince as he smashes the bag with heavy grunts. “Wanna talk about it?” I ask tentatively from the corner of the gym, feeling self-conscious in my underwear.

He stops suddenly as if only realising I’m in the room. “Sorry, darlin’.” His chest heaves as he tries to calm himself down. “That was the police constable that was on my dad’s case. I’m seeing Donnie Wicks in two weeks. The date is finally set.”

“Oh.” I pause. “Why?”

His nostrils flare. “Sorry. Even hearing his fucking name sets me off. Fuck if I know. The cunt’s dying and wants to talk to me. Maybe he’s finally going to confess.”

“Have you talked to him since. . .”

He shakes his head. “Nope. I demanded to talk to him for years. Threatened him with everything I could. Nothing worked.”

He throws one final vicious punch at the bag then stalks towards me, taking my face in his hands. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay,” I say softly, placing my palms on his bare tattooed chest. His heart hammers. “I’m not scared.”

His dark eyes lock onto mine saying something unspoken.

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