Unraveled

  After Deacon slammed the door behind him, Shiori said, “That went well.”

  Knox laughed.

  Later that afternoon, when Shiori was changing in the women’s locker room, Fee ambushed her. “You’re bending the bedframe with that knockout Knox and you didn’t tell me?” She hit the metal locker with her fist. “I thought we were friends.”

  “We are.”

  “Sisters share shit like this, Shiori.”

  “Say that five times fast,” she muttered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Look, we didn’t tell anyone. We weren’t sure it would last beyond—”

  “One good, hard fuck?” Fee said.

  “Yes. What if we fizzled instead of sizzled in bed? Not something we wanted everyone we work with to know about.”

  “I’m assuming the sizzle factor won out.”

  Shiori slumped against her locker. “It’s so fucking hot between us sometimes I think we should wear fire-retardant clothing.”

  Fee held her hand up for a fist bump. “Damn, girlfriend. You’ve bagged Knox. I’m jealous.”

  “Thanks . . . I think.”

  She laughed. “Now you can wear that well-fucked look with pride, my friend. After sneaking around, you’ve earned it.”

  Shiori returned to the office and found Knox alone, staring out the window. She didn’t hesitate to move behind him and wrap her arms around his waist. “What’s up, Shihan?”

  “My man cred.”

  “What?”

  “Evidently my man cred is at an all-time high because I’m boning Black Arts’s beautiful badass.”

  She groaned. “Who called me that? Wait. I don’t want to know.”

  “If they would’ve kept talking, you’d know exactly who said it by their black eye or busted lip.”

  Knox didn’t sound amused. She wormed her way in front of him, creating space for herself. She slid her hands up his chest and looked into his eyes. “Are you mad?”

  “I tried to be cool when they broke you down body part by body part. But you’re so much more to me than a fantastic ass, killer arms, and a wet-dream mouth.” He rested his forehead to hers. “I know guys say stupid shit about women and I used to chime in. But it’s different when it’s my woman.”

  “We’ll be old news by Wednesday. For what it’s worth, I’m happy we’re out.” She touched her lips to his. Once. Twice. “Because now we can do this anytime we want.”

  “You’re right. And if we need privacy, the door to the storage room does lock.”

  After the first couple of days, the catcalls and bow chicka wow sounds tapered off.

  Deacon still complained about their PDA, regardless of whether he found them holding hands, grappling, or even sneaking hot looks at each other across the dojo, but he was the only one.

  She and Knox started spending every other night together, alternating between his house and her penthouse.

  The sweet, crazy man even took her on a date. A fancy date where he brought her flowers, picked her up wearing a suit and tie, and piled on the compliments about how stunning she looked in the slinky cocktail dress she’d worn. The restaurant he’d chosen had a bohemian vibe from the food to the decor. She couldn’t stop staring at him throughout the meal—especially considering how the glow of candlelight sharpened the angles of his face, making him almost beautiful. After eating they’d strolled around downtown Denver and stopped into a jazz bar for a nightcap; then he’d taken her back to her place, where he’d leveled her with a mind-blowing kiss at her door before he said good night.

  Knox proved he could be a perfect gentleman.

  The more quirky, sexy, funny things she discovered about Knox, the more she wanted to uncover.

  No surprise they were total opposites. He did everything himself from working on his house, to changing the oil in his truck, to washing his clothes. Whereas she dropped her clothes off at the dry cleaner, she never fixed a meal, and she didn’t own a vacuum. Knox liked the outdoors. Fishing, camping, target shooting, and hiking were his idea of a good time. She was happier inside, where she wouldn’t get sunburned or bitten by bugs and had access to the Internet and takeout menus. As a jock, if Knox wasn’t playing sports, he was watching them: MMA, football, basketball, rugby, and hockey. Shiori considered shopping a sport. She exercised only so she didn’t have to monitor every bite she ate.

  But somehow the manly man and the girly girl worked so far. They really worked when it came to sex. She loved the glazed look in Knox’s blue eyes when she switched into Domme mode. She loved how quickly they segued from lovers snuggled on the couch to Knox awaiting her command. She loved that he anticipated her needs, and he took pride in fulfilling them. She loved that they pushed each other’s boundaries; his role in the bedroom and hers outside of it.

  Yet Shiori wasn’t thrilled with Knox’s latest attempt to increase her independence. Her argument that her dependence on others to do things for her had created jobs made him laugh.

  “Kitten, you’re pretty even when you’re surly, but lose the pout and let’s get moving.”

  “You can’t make me.”

  More laughter. “Yes, I can.”

  “How?”

  He shot her a smoldering look. “You know how.”

  “By withholding sex?”

  “Got it on the first try.”

  Shit. “So? Sex is overrated.”

  “Says my Mistress who fucked me twice yesterday.” His voice deepened. “You riding me in the shower first thing yesterday morning ringing a bell? Or how about you riding my face last night?”

  “Is that a complaint?”

  Knox aimed his hungry stare at her mouth. “Never.”

  She leaned closer and nuzzled his cheek. “If you take me home, I’ll suck your cock until the top of your head blows off.”

  “Nice try. But no. You’d keep me hanging on the edge for hours just so we didn’t have to come back and do this. So suck it up or there’ll be no sucking of anything between either of us.”

  “That’s it,” she huffed. “I’m using my safe word.”

  His mouth brushed her ear. “You don’t have a safe word. I have a safe word, remember?”

  “Knox.” That sounded whiny. “Why are you pushing me on this?”

  “Because you’re thirty-five years old and it’s time you learned to drive.”

  She pointed to his big truck that was like twenty-seven feet off the ground and had tires the size of a bulldozer. “I’d rather not crash and burn a monster truck.”

  “Stop saying that. This is a standard-sized pickup.”

  “It can’t be.”

  “It is.”

  “Compared to what? Tractors? Have you seen the size of cars in Japan?”

  “Nope. And we’re not in Japan; we’re in America, where our public-transit system in the Wild West isn’t up to Japanese bullet-train standards.”

  “Not the same thing.”

  “Quit being a pain in the ass and get in.”

  “I don’t like your tone.”

  Knox got right in her face. “You won’t like my hand smacking your ass either if you don’t get it moving.”

  “Acting a little cheeky today, sub.”

  “I’m not your sub right now, remember? So quit stalling, whining, and bitching, and pull up your big-girl panties and get in the damn truck.”

  “Fine. I assume you have a ladder?”

  He muttered something. Then he pointed to the thin piece of silver chrome below the door. “That’s the running board. Use it to get in.”

  Shiori opened the door and launched herself into the driver’s seat. First thing she moved the seat closer to the steering wheel. If Knox’s knees were hunched against the dashboard, it was his own fault for being so tall.

  Knox climbed in the passenger side. More muttering. Then, “Move the seat back. You don’t need to be directly under the steering wheel to drive.”

  She eased t
he seat back.

  “Now. You have two pedals at your feet. But you’re only going to use one foot. Gas is on your right. The brake is in the middle. Now look on your dashboard and see the letters P, R, N, D, L?”

  “I see them.”

  “What do they stand for?”

  “Pretty Reckless New Driver, Lookout?”

  He didn’t crack a smile.

  She sighed. “Park, reverse, neutral, drive . . . no idea what the L is for.”

  “Low. You can drop it into a lower gear if the weather is bad or if you’re driving down a steep grade. Now turn the key and start ’er up.”

  “It seems too soon. Shouldn’t we go over the safety features of this vehicle?”

  He shook his head. “Turn the key and press on the gas at the same time.”

  “I have to do two things at once?” she practically shrieked.

  “Shiori,” he snapped. “Stop freaking out. If sixteen-year-old kids can do this, so can you.”

  She turned the key and slammed her foot down on the gas pedal. The engine roared.

  “Good. Now put your foot on the brake and move the gearshift into drive.”

  “So then we’ll be moving.”

  “Hopefully.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Around and around in this empty parking lot until you feel comfortable behind the wheel.”

  Jesus. They’d be here for two months if that held true. She pulled the gearshift down until the red needle was on the D. “Now what?”

  “Now take your foot off the brake. The truck is in gear and it will move, but not much until you apply the gas. So when you step on the gas, do it gradually, not all at once.”

  Okay. Here goes.

  She fought the temptation to close her eyes. She put her foot on the gas like Knox said, and the truck lurched forward. She took her foot off and slammed on the brake. Then she tried it again. This time it went smoother. She tried a little more gas and it didn’t lurch.

  “Doing great. Now, try not to drive down the middle but stay to the right.”

  “There’s so much to remember.”

  “When you get to the end of this row, turn right and go up the other side. And you might get a better feel for driving if you went faster than ten.”

  Was he snickering? She didn’t dare take her eyes off the road to glare at him or take her hands off the wheel to flip him off.

  She putted down four rows, gradually increasing her speed. By the time she’d reached the end of the last parking row, she’d ramped the speed up to twenty-five. When she saw the curb and the cement block base for the streetlamp in her path, she panicked. She cranked the wheel hard and the truck almost spun in a circle.

  Knox yelled, “Brake! Brake!”

  She jammed on the brake with both feet and they lurched forward. Good thing they wore seat belts.

  “Jesus Christ, Shiori. What the hell were you doing? You trying to roll my damn truck and give me a heart attack? You can’t take a corner at twenty-five!”

  “You kept telling me to speed up!”

  “Not when you’re turning a corner. That’s when you slow down!”

  She moved the gearshift into park. Then she turned the ignition off, unbuckled her seat belt, and bailed out of the truck. Wrapping her arms around herself, she started walking.

  Tears fell, which pissed her off.

  Knox ran past her and planted himself in front of her.

  She just stepped around him and kept walking.

  Then he blocked her path again. “Shiori. Can you please stop?”

  She stopped.

  He framed her face in his hands and tipped her head back. “Why are you crying?”

  “You yelled at me.”

  “I’ve yelled at you a thousand times before.”

  “But not like this. You scared me.” She sniffled. “I don’t want to learn how to drive! Not knowing how to drive a car doesn’t make me a lazy, stupid reject. I hate that everyone makes me feel that way.”

  “Do I make you feel that way?”

  “Sometimes.”

  That surprised him.

  “I’ve done the financial analysis on owning a car versus hiring a car service. When you add gas and insurance and depreciation and maintenance, I’m actually ahead at the end of the year by not driving. Not to mention the work I get accomplished when I’m being driven.”

  “Hey. Come here.” Knox crushed her to his chest. “I’m sorry if anything I’ve ever said makes you feel like a reject. You’re far from it.” He kissed her forehead. “You know how I feel about you, Nushi. You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”

  That caused the tears to fall a little harder. Knox worshipped her—every day in every way, without her having to demand it or beg for it. That was so new, so precious. She was so afraid of losing it, afraid of losing him.

  “I was a dick to push you on this.”

  “Why did you push me?”

  “Because you’re stinking rich and can buy any fast car you want. How cool would it be to be able to drive them?”

  “That’s your reason?”

  “No, I’m kidding. I just hate that you have strange men driving you all over town and you won’t turn that job over to me.”

  “You’re busy running the dojo. You don’t have time to be my chauffeur.”

  “It’s my right to take care of you,” he argued. “And if you won’t let me do that, at least let me teach you to take care of yourself.”

  She placed her hand over his heart. “Thank you for thinking of me and looking out for me.”

  “It’s not jealousy about Tom the chauffeur playing fetch and carry for you.”

  But she knew that was a large part of it. Any man who did anything for her made Knox feel like he was slacking. Wanting her to rely on him for everything was unrealistic. And what happened if she leaned on him—only him? At some point he’d get resentful. She’d been through it before. “Knox. This is me taking care of myself.”

  He stared at her, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he struggled with how to respond.

  “How about if we start small with the driving thing? Every time we drive past that indoor go-kart track you tell me how much you’d love to take me there.”

  His eyes lit up. “You’d go today? Right now?”

  “If you take me out for sushi afterward. Oh, and frozen yogurt.” She walked her fingers up his chest. “Of course that’ll have to be to go, because I plan to use your body as my dessert plate.”

  No surprise Knox burned rubber taking her there.

  * * *

  ANOTHER boring Thursday.

  She’d done payroll.