Ruthless Knight: Chapter 29

Everything is spinning in my head.

Faces, places, spaces.

Objects, people, colors, emotions.

I can’t pick anything apart, and it feels like there’s a rock band playing in every corner of my mind.

I twist and turn, but I can’t seem to break free of this space.

This strange space I’ve been trapped in for what feels like eons and eons.

Every now and again, I see a flicker of Knight’s face and hear his voice, but I have no idea what he’s saying.

Suddenly, a sphere of light pushes at the chaotic mess in my mind, and I’m able to open my eyes, but it’s too bright, too painful, too sharp.

I screw my eyes shut, then try again, grateful that this attempt is slightly less painful.

As my awareness returns and the fog covering my mind lifts, I realize the light is the sun.

I roll my head from side to side. Ugh, big mistake. I shouldn’t have done that.

Pain shoots from my head to the rest of my body like shards of thunder.

What the hell happened to me? I feel like shit.

The last time I remember feeling like this was when I found out about Scott. Not his death, but the truth about who he was and who I was to him, or rather who I wasn’t supposed to be. That night, I drank myself into oblivion.

Images of me downing a bottle of wine flash through my mind, so

I guess that’s what I must have done again.

I roll onto my side and am met with the purest blue. Turquoise blue.

It takes me a moment before I realize I’m staring at the sea, and it’s not the seaside view I have from my bedroom in New York.

This is exotic. Holiday destination exotic.

The thought makes me bolt upright. Another big mistake that makes my head feel like it’s going to fall off, but when I take in my surroundings, I shove the pain away.

The pain can wait because I’m somewhere I’ve never been before.

The wide archway to my left, carved into a sandstone-colored wall, reveals the idyllic scene of soft waves rolling across the surface of the sea with jagged rock formations off in the distance.

My God. Where am I?

I tear my eyes away from the screensaver-like view and look around the medieval-style room in one sweep, then down at the king-sized bed where I’m sitting.

It’s only at that moment I realize I’m completely naked and the only thing covering me is a flimsy white sheet.

Holy shit.

My jaw drops. Clearly, I’m no longer in New York, and I must have gotten up to all hell last night, but I can’t remember a damn thing.

I must have also drunk a whole brewery to achieve this epic fucked-up state of memory loss.

I pull the sheet up to cover my breasts and rummage through my mind for answers, trying to track back to the last thing I remember.

The wedding comes to my mind.

I got married. Was that yesterday? It feels like a long time ago.

I remember kissing Knight and what he said to me, then speaking with his mother, Jericho, and his grandparents.

It was actually a nice day until…

Knight and Chelle.

I remember that part and how hurt I was.

I remember grabbing the wine from the waiter and going outside to drink.

Then I remember nothing more.

Everything else is a blurred blog as if someone shoved a mass of gray into my mind.

And where am I now?

I look around the room again and take in the beauty. It’s huge, and the Baroque design makes it look like one of the paintings from my poetry books.

The furniture is wooden and ornate with carvings in the fixtures, and the walls are covered with blue and brass satin wallpaper. There’s a wrought iron chandelier hanging over my head and pewter-toned candlesticks by the window.

I slip off the bed, stepping onto the cool stone floor, and wrap my body with the sheet, then I look around for clothes. Even my wedding dress would do, but I don’t see anything anywhere.

I head to the door and walk through, stepping onto a landing with another archway revealing more of the sea.

Wherever I am is completely surrounded by the sea. I think back to what I heard about us supposedly honeymooning in some secret location, and I try to guess where I am. It’s a little hard because I thought that was some made-up story Knight told the press to add to the perfect image of us.

A scan of what I can see confirms that I’m definitely not anywhere near New York.

Maybe I’m somewhere like Cape Cod, or we went down south to Wilmington. I’ve never been to either.

Cape Cod makes me think of the setting in TV shows like Dawson’s Creek, while Wilmington conjures all my favorite Nicholas Sparks films.

I walk down wide stone steps, holding my hands at my heart as if I’m trying to keep it from leaping out.

When I reach the bottom, I make my way into a spacious living room with white and gold furniture. There I find Knight in the furthest corner, standing in the frame of another archway.

With his back turned to me, he’s staring out at the sea, which looks more alive from this view. He’s shirtless, with only a pair of gray joggers hanging low on his hips. A cigar dangles from his fingers and he looks sexy as hell.

It takes me a moment before I remember he’s my husband.

I take in the tattoos on his back that make him look so different from the man he is when he’s wearing a suit and his Wall Street face.

Slowly, he turns to face me as he takes a drag from the cigar. I remember when I first thought he looked Mediterranean. Well, with the gorgeous sea behind him and his olive skin, he definitely looks the part now.

“Finally, she’s awake, and she looks sober.” He blows out a ring of smoke. It settles around his face in a haze before it floats away on the edge of the wind.

“Where am I?” I glance around, still trying to figure it out as I look at the bright sun and stunning sea.

“Saint-Tropez.”

I flick my gaze back to him and gasp. “What? Saint-Tropez?” Excitement overrides my shock for a minute. Saint-Tropez is one of the holiday destinations I would kill to go to. Of course, Mom loved Brigitte Bardot, so I grew up looking at pictures of her walking along the scenic beach Saint-Tropez is known for.

That’s where I am now. Good God, my life has surely changed.

“We’re seriously in Saint-Tropez?” My head is spinning with so much excitement I had to ask him again.

“Yes, but on my private island just off the coast.”

My eyes widen even more than they have. “You have your own island off the coast of Saint-Tropez?”

“Yeah. I kind of do.” A playful smile dances across his lips.

Just when I thought I was getting used to the extent of his wealth, he went and proved me wrong. Now we’re standing in another mansion-style house on his island off the coast of Saint-Tropez. And I have no memory of how I got here.

“What day is it?” A stab of humiliation grips me for having to ask that question and reveal how drunk I was, but I swallow my pride because I need to know the answer.

“Monday.” His voice is slow and teasing, and his expression becomes more animated when he sees the horror in mine.

Monday! I don’t know how many more shocks I can take.

How can it be Monday?

We got married on Saturday. So, I’ve been spaced out for over a day?

“It’s really Monday?”

“Yes, but if it makes you feel better, the time here is six hours ahead.”

“Of course that doesn’t make me feel any better.” I cast him an incredulous glare. “When did we leave New York?”

“We boarded my jet straight after we left the wedding. I felt it was best, given your state, to head out while we still could. Once I managed to get you on the plane, you slept for most of the journey, but you’ve been in and out of it since we got here.”

“Oh my God.” I pant, bringing a hand to my cheek. All that happened, and I didn’t know. “I can’t remember any of that.”

“Seriously?” As his brows rise, panic races over me when I think about what I must have done in my drunken state.

“Yes.” I’ve never been that drunk to forget whole events, so this is more than alarming. “I remember bits and pieces but not enough to put things together. Like how I ended up naked.”

“Well, maybe it’s best you don’t remember.”

“How is that best? I flew from one country to the next, and I have no recollection of even getting on a plane.”

He smirks and pushes off the wall. “It’s definitely best you don’t remember that part. Let’s just say you’re not exactly a fun drunk.”

I think of the reason I was drinking in the first place and my infuriation returns.

Chelle’s inappropriate words and behavior flash through my mind with perfect clarity, and I level him a hard stare. I know he’s not really mine and I’ve fallen for this game of pretense, but the memory of seeing him with Chelle still hurts just as badly as it did when it happened.

“Maybe I’m not a fun drunk because of what made me drink in the first place.”

Knight gives me a wide smile as if I just said something hilarious. The mocking sight only fuels my aggravation.

“Something funny?” I lift my chin, ready to challenge him.

“A little bit.”

“I saw you and Chelle.” I decide to cut to the chase, but as I say those words, I feel like I’ve said them before. But of course, I can’t remember.

“I got that memo.” He confirms my thoughts.

“And you think it’s funny for your assistant to be all over you on our wedding day?”

“No, but I do think what’s amusing is you getting all worked up when you supposedly dislike me so much.”

I see his obvious point, and I know I totally landed myself in that comment, but I decide to cover my emotions.

“I do dislike you.” I might sound more believable if I knew that wasn’t entirely a lie.

His smile brightens with another spark of humor, but this time, it’s darker, laced with a smooth blend of malice.

He puts the cigar out and makes his way over to me, closing the distance between us.

Aware that I have nothing but the bed sheet covering my body, I pull it closer and closer when he comes right up to me.

Forget about personal space. He swallowed what was left of mine whole with his mere presence and foreboding arrogance.

A lopsided grin tilts his lips, and he angles even closer into the danger zone, a breath away from my lips. His warm breath tickles my nose, but I feel it right down to my toes.

“You didn’t dislike me when my cock was buried deep inside you, wife.” He touches the edge of my jaw, stoking the delicious heat of carnal attraction. “You didn’t dislike me when you had your pussy in my face, and I ate you out until you came over and over again.” His voice drops lower and lower, igniting desire deep in my core.

“That was…different.” I take a sip of air to clear the numbness from my mind. It doesn’t work. He’s too close for me to think or do anything besides remember what he does to me when I’m with him.

“No, it wasn’t different.” He traces a finger down to the swells of my breasts and stays there. “You didn’t dislike me when I had you pressed up against the walls of my shower or when I fucked you on the hood of my car. You didn’t dislike me when you rode my cock until you were sore, and I most definitely don’t remember you disliking me when you came with my name falling off your lips like air.”

My lips part as the oxygen leaves my brain and the world tilts like a scale.

A hot blush creeps over my neck when his fingers slide lower and hook the sheet.

“Perhaps…you need a reminder of how much you like me.”

“I…” I should step away and put a stop to what I know will happen next if he continues to touch me, but it’s that same thing that keeps me standing still.

“You what, Aurora?” He pries the sheet from my fingers. “You want me?”

“No?” My voice is a hushed whisper of denial we both can see.

“Liar.”

“I’m not.”

“Then stop me.” He crushes his lips to mine and kisses me, paralyzing my will, so I can’t do anything to stop him from tugging the sheet off my body.

Pleasure explodes inside me as his tongue sweeps over mine and every pore in my body awakens from the strength of his touch, his scent, his possession.

His hands glide up my waist, and he pulls me against his chest so his hard cock is pushing into me.

He cups my breasts and squeezes them, making me moan.

“You’re perfect.” His words rumble across my lips, the rawness in his tone unlocking my desire for him without restraint. “Naked and perfect and all mine. Just the way I want you.”

“Me?”

“You.”

I barely have time to absorb his words. He kisses me harder, then backs me up against the archway wall. I manage a quick glance to my left and see we’re by the terrace. I can also see the start of a beach with pure white sand.

And I’m naked. Anyone passing will definitely see me.

“There’s no one on the island but you and me.” Knight places playful kisses over my cheek when he notices me looking outside.

“Only you and me?” God, if I’m still dreaming, this is one hell of a fantasy. Being taken to an exotic island by my billionaire husband, where it’s just the two of us is right up there with all my wildest dreams.

“Only you and me, Goddess. So, I can fuck you anywhere I want. Outside or inside.”

With that declaration, he picks me up, and I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist, so our bodies mold together.

Knight shoves his pants down, takes out his cock, and slides into me, the feeling of his skin on mine sensational. My body was so ready for him he’s buried to the hilt within seconds and hits that spot deep inside me that wants him most.

“Always wet and ready for me.” He kisses up my neck.

“Knight…” I throw my head back and moan into the slow, grinding wave he’s giving me. The pressure builds in my core, rising and burning until I can’t take it anymore.

“Do you want me to fuck you, mon cherie?”

“Yes. Do it. Please.” I’m past caring about right and wrong. All I want is what only he can give me. “Take me.”

On my word, he devours me.

Wave after wave of pleasure takes my body and my mind, and I don’t remember who I am or where I am, then I’m coming and coming and coming. Orgasm after orgasm coils through my body, but he keeps going. Pounding and hammering up into me.

All I can do is hold on to him, wrapping my arms and legs around his powerful body.

We slam into the wall, and I lift my hips to meet his thrusts. That’s when he fucks me harder, and I see stars.

The cadence and rhythm between us are like magic. It’s so overwhelming, every nerve in my body is saturated with it.

We keep going until we come, and somehow, everything feels different from the last time.

Holding me against the wall with our bodies covered in sweat, he kisses my cheek and catches my face, guiding my gaze to meet his.

“The next time you eavesdrop on me when another woman is coming on to me, make sure you stay to the end.” He stares deep into my eyes, pushing past my soul. “Stay to the end and watch me choose you.”

I blink several times as my brain refocuses on what he’s saying and attempts to process his unexpected words.

Nothing happened between him and Chelle.

“You chose me?”

“Yes, wife. I did. And I’m about to choose you again.”

Another kiss covers my mouth, and I’m pulled back into our world of unending pleasure.

He takes me back upstairs.

To bed.