Page 15 of Knot My MC
The therapist narrows her eyes. “Listen,” the woman begins, in that tone. The one that says she’s trying to make me see reason. I hate that tone. It makes me feel like a child. “You’re still recovering. I know it’s hard, but sticking to the plan, the exercises, and using the assistance,” she violently gestures to the walker, “will all help you get back to normal a hell of a lot faster.”
“No need to cuss at me, doc.”
She glowers. “This isn’t a joke, Crow. Are you going to take your recovery seriously? If not, I don’t see why I need to come here and help you.”
“He’s going to take it seriously.” Knox gives me a stern, almost fatherly look. “Use the damn walker and go do your exercises. Don’t be a dick about it.”
He doesn’t get it. None of them do. The only thing I want is to get better. I don’t want therapy. I don’t want this chick cooing at how good I’m doing when I’m simply taking a few steps or stretching against the wall. It’s demeaning.
“Alphas and their pride.” She huffs and grabs her bag. “Good luck.” She marches toward the door. Knox and Jag both glare at me like I’m an idiot.
Shit, maybe I am.
“Wait,” I say, grabbing the walker and scowling at her. “I’ll do it, but no more sweet talking. Just tell me the exercises and let me do them. I don’t need your nice words.”
Spinning on her heel, the therapist spears me with a venomous look. “Fine, you don’t want me to be nice about it? Get yourself together and let’s do what needs to be done. Stop wasting my time.”
“All right.” I take a step forward, hating the scooching sound the walker makes. “That’s better.”
Knox and Jag chuckle and finally leave the room, heading to their own rooms while I suffer through forty-five minutes of pain. It’s worth it though. As much as I hate this, I know I need to do it. I need to get better. Knox has a plan. I have three years to get strong enough to take on Axel and his guys. Three years sounds like an eternity.
Next year Kiki turns eighteen. I had an idea for a big party to help her celebrate officially reaching adulthood.
I can’t do that. I can’t even send her a card.
My chest aches and I clench my jaw.
The only thing that keeps me shuffling forward is the distant hope that someday soon, she’ll be back where she belongs.
CHAPTERSIX
ONE YEAR LATER
JAG
Knox would be pissed if he saw me right now. I grin to myself. Good thing he’s not here. The agreement was always sneaking in while Kiki was out or asleep. We were never meant to be inside her home while she was awake. Technically, I followed the rules.
Kiki is the one who deviated from her normal routine. I was supposed to have at least another half-hour without her home. But for whatever reason, she’s here and I’m under her bed, hoping to hell the oversized bed skirt and king size bedframe are enough to hide me. I drenched myself in scent concealers, so I’m not worried about her smelling me. I am worried about her realizing her underwear drawer is open.
The dresser drawer had been closed when I arrived, and in my rush to hide, I forgot to close it. Kiki shuffles into her room, humming under her breath and dropping onto the bed. The mattress dips above my head, and I hold my breath when she starts to sing the chorus.
She’s never been pitch perfect, but it’s been over a year since I’ve heard her sing. I clench the lacy thong tighter in my hand as the bed shifts again. Her bare feet are dangling over the side of the bed, and in the scant centimeters between the floor and bottom of the bed skirt, I catch her bright red toe nail polish.
She’s so close I could reach out and touch her. But if I did that, then she’d flip out. I’d have to explain why I’m here and why I’m holding her underwear. I’d have to explain why we never texted her back. That’s not a conversation I’m ready to have, at least not without Knox and Crow present. Which brings me back to how much shit I’ll be in if either of them find out.
The risk was worth it.
Kiki drops her phone and the headphones she was wearing onto the ground beside the bed. In the next second her top and bra follow. I’m left swallowing my damn tongue when her shorts and thong hit the floor next.
What’s she doing?
Her dad is gone—off on some business with Axel more than likely.
The bedside table drawer opens and a soft buzz fills the air. I bite my cheeks to keep from releasing a dark chuckle. Naughty thing. My cock grows painfully hard as she makes small noises of delight, the device hitting a point of pleasure. Reaching over, I grab her discarded thong and stick it and the other I’d grabbed into my pocket.
I want to jerk off, but I can’t. There’s too much risk of my scent breaking past the scent blockers. They work for things like sneaking into her house, not covering up cum. I press my hand to my aching member, grinding my teeth and committing every gasp and moan she makes to my memory. The pressure of my hand isn’t nearly enough so I slowly roll over, lying on my stomach beneath her bed and shamelessly grinding against the floor, taking enough of the edge off to keep from exposing myself.
I picture her writhing body beneath mine.
