His Gymnast by Darcy Rose
11
Aria
I wishI knew what to think about him.
On the one hand, I know who he is, and I know what he’s capable of. I’ve seen it with my own eyes and should be terrified of him. I should cringe when he touches me.
On the other hand, I don’t cringe when he touches me. I want more. He sets me on fire without hardly having to try. He makes things I would never imagine doing seem like a normal, reasonable thing. Like fucking in an alley. Who does that? Since when do I?
So maybe it’s me I need to figure out, not Knox. He’s never pretended to be somebody he’s not. He’s never lied to me. What I see is what I get. And what I get is the most ridiculously hot sex anybody’s ever had.
No. It’s more than that. For the first time in my entire life, I get to feel like somebody wants me for me. He wants to protect me because he thinks I’m worth protecting. Not because I’ll win a championship. Not because if I keep working hard, I’ll earn a free ride to college. I don’t have to do anything or give him anything in exchange. I only have to be.
Which is completely fucking bizarre and almost impossible to believe.
“You’re all dirty,” he announces once we’re in the house, where everything’s just the way I left it before running out for the bus. Like he got here and immediately ran out again.
“Yeah. Somebody had me up against a dingy brick wall a little while ago.” And here I am, joking about it. Teasing. He’s unlocked something in me. Something that craves him—who he is, how he does things.
Which is why I don’t hesitate when he beckons me from the foot of the stairs. Why I follow him up with my heart pounding. It's not pounding in fear, though, more like anticipation. I know that no matter what, he won’t hurt me. Not really.
He leads me to the bathroom, where he turns on the taps before putting the stopper in place. He’s running a bath. When he turns to me, he’s gentle as he strips me of one piece of clothing at a time. There’s nothing sexual about it, not really, and I honestly don’t know if I’m glad of that or not. Now that I know how it feels to have him inside me, that’s all I want—to be joined with him that way, one person instead of two.
I’m either a degenerate sex maniac or a hopeless romantic. Either way, I think I need to get myself under control before Knox gets me into real trouble.
I slide into the tub once it’s half-filled, wincing at first at the heat of the water. It doesn’t take long to adjust to it, though, and by the time I’m settled back against the rear of the tub, my muscles have already loosened. Steam billows up around me, so thick it’s almost like a curtain between Knox and me.
Instead of leaving me alone the way he did last night, he kneels next to the tub. I watch him with my heart in my throat, biting my lip. What’s he going to do now? That uncertainty is a little scary, but even more so, it’s exciting—not being able to predict what he’s going to do.
He reaches for the washcloth he draped over the side of the tub, then dunks it into the water. I watch in fascination as he soaps the cloth up, making it sudsy, before lifting my arm by the wrist and sliding the cloth over it.
This is all he wants to do? To wash me? The way he approaches his work is enough to soften my heart even more. He’s so serious yet so gentle at the same time. Like this is important to him, and he wants to get it right. I can hardly believe anybody would be this good to me, but especially someone who’s practically a stranger.
Sure, we’ve had sex, but strangers can do that and still be strangers once they’re finished. The fact is, we’ve only known each other this well for twenty-four hours, no matter how much it feels otherwise.
Once my arm is washed, he moves to the other one. I only do as he asks, easing into the sensation of being cared for. Being cherished. Like I’m something special. Like he cares about me that much. Can that be possible? I want to ask, but I wouldn’t know how to get the words out. Besides, he’s all wrapped up in what he’s doing. I don’t want to distract him.
He doesn’t even get sexy when he moves between my legs, where I’m still sore from our fun in the alley. On second thought, I’m glad he doesn’t want more than this. Even though it was a lot of fun, I don’t know if I could handle him again this soon. Maybe in time, once I’m used to him—his size, his piercing, his roughness, all of it—I’ll be able to handle it more than once a night.
Holy shit, what am I thinking? Am I actually considering a future with him? Is that a smart thing to do? No, I don’t think he would ever hurt me, but what if somebody hurts him? He lives a dangerous life. I might end up getting hurt anyway, without him laying a hand on me.
Once he decides I’m clean enough, he helps me stand in the tub before getting a big, thick bath sheet to wrap around me. He even insists on drying me off with gentle, smooth strokes against my skin. It’s amazing how gentle he can be compared to the way he was when we were having sex. Again, I can’t help but think of him as having two personalities. I like this one better.
Though I sure liked the other one earlier, didn’t I? I came so hard, I saw stars.
“Are you hungry?” I nod eagerly, having not eaten since breakfast. “Why don’t you get dressed and meet me downstairs? I’ll fix us something.” I nod with a lump in my throat. He’s so sweet, so thoughtful. I’m starting to believe he really was worried about me when he got home and found me gone. It wasn’t only that I disobeyed him. He was genuinely afraid something bad might’ve happened.
That’s still running through my head as I get dressed and head downstairs. He’s already waiting for me in the living room with a plate of cheese, fruit, meats, and bread placed on the coffee table.
“I meant to compliment you on all the food in the fridge. You really know how to stock a kitchen.” I take a seat, pulling my legs under me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so cozy.
“I like to eat well. Why do you think I love going to Rigatoni’s so much?” He flashes a brief, warm smile. “When we’d have big family dinners, this was always my favorite part. I keep stuff around for when I want a quick meal. What would you like?”
“Some of that cheese would be nice. Is it cheddar?”
“Aged Irish cheddar.” He cuts off a small piece, but instead of handing it to me, he holds it up to my mouth. I realize he’s not joking, so I part my lips and let him slide the cheese between them. It’s delicious—smooth, creamy, nutty.
My eyes close as the flavors play over my tongue. “That’s incredible.”
“Here. Try some of this.” He spoons a little bit of honey on top of the next piece and slowly inserts it into my mouth. I might come again just from this cheese alone. When I open my eyes this time, I find him watching me with something like desire playing over his features.
“Why are you being so good to me?” It comes out before I can think to stop it. I don’t even know that I would’ve stopped it if I had known it was coming since I do want to know. It’s driving me sort of crazy, not knowing why he’s going to all this trouble for me.
He looks at me like I’ve sprouted a second head. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because I’m just some person? A girl who happened to ask you for help when she needed it?” Something else hits me, and I don’t like it. “Is it because you feel sorry for me?”
He pauses in the middle of wrapping a slice of prosciutto around half a fig. “Is that what you think? That I’m doing all this because I pity you?”
“Well, I’m sure weirder things have happened.”
He feeds me the fig and prosciutto—again, it’s a revelation, and I want to know where he gets his groceries because I plan on shopping there for the rest of my life—then sighs. “Let me tell you something about myself right now. I don’t do pity. I wasn’t born with that ability. There have been times when I’ve wondered if I was born broken. I don’t feel the kinds of things other people feel.”
I sort of figured that out on my own.
“I mean, I don’t go around abusing animals or anything like that,” he makes sure to tell me. “There isn’t punishment bad enough for the sort of people who do shit like that. When I see anybody getting hurt or taken advantage of by somebody bigger and stronger than them?” He shrugs. “I can't help myself. I have to make them hurt, too.”
“So that’s why you beat him.” I can’t say his name, not now. “Because you saw what he was doing to me, and you knew it was wrong.”
“You sound disappointed.”
Do I? I guess that’s because I am, a little. I don’t know what I expected him to say or what I wanted him to say. I don’t know how I would’ve reacted if he’d said he was in love with me or something like that. “Nobody wants to think of themselves as needing help. At least, I don’t.”
“But you did. And you were smart to come to me. You don’t have anything to worry about anymore, not ever again.” This time, he tears off a piece of bread and smears goat cheese on top. Every bite is more delicious than the last. He is a far more interesting, multilayered person than I would ever have imagined. I wonder if anybody else knows he’s like this.
I wonder how many of them know he’s not above feeding a girl.
Eventually, he eats, too, but only when I told him I’m satisfied, though. Like he wanted to be sure I had everything I wanted before he took his.
He’s just polishing off the last of the cheese when there’s a knock on the door. I look toward the windows, and for the first time, I notice the light outside. Red and blue lights, to be precise. “What the hell is that?” My delicious meal wants to come back up all of a sudden.
Knox’s jaw tightens as he stands. “There’s nothing to worry about.” His voice is flat, even, low—somehow scarier than it would be if he started screaming. “Just relax and stay quiet.”
“But—” He holds up a hand before going to the front door, moving with all the dangerous grace of a panther on the prowl. I know who’ll be on the other side, but that’s not enough to prepare me for the sight of a pair of cops standing on the front stoop.
“Knox Hale, we have a warrant for your arrest.” One of them comes in, holding up a piece of paper, while the other pulls out zip ties. “You’re going to have to come with us.”
“What are the charges?” I blurt out. I know I’m supposed to stay quiet, but I’m tired of being told what to do and how to do it.
“Murder.” The cops barely look at me, too busy with him.
“This is ridiculous! Knox!” I want to get through to him, to at least convince him to spit in their faces. Something. I can’t reach him, so I turn to the cops. “You can’t do this. You can’t just walk into somebody’s house and say you’re arresting them for murder.”
“We absolutely can, young lady. Hence the warrant.” The cop spits it at me, then snarls, and I have to wonder who he thinks I am. Does he think I’m in on something with Knox?
Meanwhile, Knox is deathly quiet the entire time he’s being cuffed and read his rights. It’s just like on television, all of it. He only smirks a little, staring straight ahead while the officers mutter things about him and his family. Obviously, they’re not fans of his.
I open my mouth, prepared to accuse them of taking his family’s history out on him, but Knox meets my gaze and shakes his head. “I’ll be back out in a few hours. Don’t sweat it. Just stay put, okay?” He even winks the instant before he’s led out the door to the car.
How can he be so calm about this? It’s like… oh. Right. Like he’s been through it before. I guess he has.
I haven’t, though. I hate to think of him going through this when he’s been so good to me. I know he has a decent side in there. How am I supposed to live without him if he ends up not being able to make bail? What if bail is never offered?
Just when I thought things were going better. Just when I thought all my troubles were over. Tears are rolling down my cheeks by the time I drop onto the couch.
It takes a second for me to realize my bag is buzzing by the door. My phone. I jump up and grab for it.
And almost throw up.
Now everything makes sense. Neither Mom nor Dale tried to call immediately after what happened last night. But here I am, not three minutes after Knox’s arrest, and there’s a call coming my way from the house line.
No. It can’t be true. It must be a coincidence. I take a deep, steadying breath before answering. “Yes?”
“How’s your boyfriend, slut?”
The sound of his voice brings everything back. My shoulders hunch and my back curves as I try to fold myself up as small as possible. “What did you do?”
“What needed to be done to an animal like that. But he doesn’t have to be in there for long. He could leave as soon as I give the say-so.”
I should’ve known from the second I saw those lights that all of this could be traced back to the bastard on the phone. “What will make you give the say-so?”
“If you come home. Right now.” I close my eyes as this sinks in. “Or else I could make jail really uncomfortable for that son of a bitch. He might even get hurt… accidentally, of course.”
He’ll do it, too. So will that brother of his. I’m sure of it. I can’t make Knox suffer for me. There’s no question about what I need to do. “I’m on my way.”
