Unraveled (32 page)

She reached up, her hands mirroring his as she held his face.

They stayed like that for several long moments.

Then Knox remembered the nurse. When he turned around, he realized she’d snuck out.
He looked at Shiori again. “I need to find out what they’re doing with you. I’ll be
right back.”

Luckily, the nurse hadn’t gone far.

He smiled sheepishly at her. “Thanks for giving us a moment.”

“No problem.”

“What happens now? Can I take her home?”

“I don’t see why she’d need to stay here, but I’m not the doctor. I’ll see if I can
get a doc to sign off on her. It might take me a bit, so be patient.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Shiori had slumped back into the pillow.

He scooted the lone chair closer and took her hand, bringing her knuckles to his mouth
for a kiss. “I’m hoping to get you out of here soon.”

She nodded, then winced.

“Rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Knox watched her until her breathing slowed.
Keeping hold of her hand, he rested his forehead on the edge of her bed. Relief like
he’d never known finally swept through him. She was all right. Banged up and battered
but here,
right here
, with him where she belonged.

Knox fished out both phones and started sending text messages. First to Deacon, then
a brief explanation to the Black Arts crew. He used Shiori’s phone to text Tom, Fee,
Katie and Molly. It was a damn good thing she used pictures to identify who was who,
because all her contact names were in Japanese. His finger hovered over her mother’s
picture. She had a right to know her daughter had been in an accident, but was it
his place to tell her?

No.

He had the same hesitation over Ronin’s number. Sensei Black had been gone three months.
In that time they’d heard from him once, when he’d sent an e-mail indicating he and
Amery were spending time in Hawaii before they returned home. So yeah, he’d skip contacting
Ronin too.

Half an hour later a hacking cough woke him. He’d dozed off with his head on Shiori’s
bed. He handed her a glass of water. “Here.”

Shiori drank it down, and Knox could tell she had trouble swallowing.

“Do you need a straw?”

She shook her head.

“Can I see your tongue?”

She shook her head vehemently.

“Come on, She-Cat. You always want to stick your tongue out at me. Here’s your chance.”

She turned her head away from him and a tear rolled down her cheek.

That hurt him worse than the time she’d accidentally stomped on his kidney. He leaned
over her and swiped it away with his thumb. “It’s not morbid curiosity making me ask,
kitten. I’ll be taking care of you while you recover, and I want to see the injury
at its worst so I know when it’s healing.”

Shiori faced him and closed her eyes before she opened her mouth and stuck out her
tongue.

His gut clenched. Her tongue had swelled so much he wondered how she kept it in her
mouth. Not only had she bitten it a few inches down from the tip with enough force
that she had left deeply indented bloody teeth marks, but she’d also bitten the sides
of her tongue with her back teeth, so that was swollen and bruised. When he noticed
the blood underneath her chin and streaks on her neck, he imagined it’d bled like
a son of a bitch.

She made a noise, and he looked up at her. Such mortification on her face.

Keeping his eyes connected to hers, he bent down and kissed her poor abused tongue.
When he pulled back, he shrugged and said, “I expected worse.”

The door opened and a harried-looking woman in blue scrubs walked in with a clipboard.
“I’m Dr. Ballard. I see you’ve requested to be discharged.”

Shiori nodded.

The doctor looked at Knox. “You’ll be taking care of her?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You know what signs to look for if she has complications from the concussion?”

Knox rattled them off with ease.

“Now, you know I’m going to ask how you’re so familiar with them,” Dr. Ballard said.

“Shiori and I are both jujitsu instructors, and we’ve seen more than our share of
concussions over the years. She’s in good hands with me.”

“Sounds like it. As for the tongue injury, it didn’t require stitches, but if it doesn’t
show healing even in the next twenty-four hours you’ll need to call an oral surgeon.
She needs to keep an ice pack on her tongue at least fifteen minutes every hour. The
less she talks, the less trauma to the tongue and the faster it heals. But between
that and the concussion, I can prescribe painkillers—”

Shiori shook her head.

The doctor looked at Knox and he shrugged. “It’s a family thing. Her brother, our
Sensei, has the same mind-set.”

“Over-the-counter meds?” the doctor asked Shiori.

She nodded.

“Motrin or Tylenol. No OTC with aspirin in it.” She took out a prescription pad and
scrawled across it. “A cycle of antibiotics is nonnegotiable.” She handed it to Knox
but spoke to Shiori. “You’ll be sore for a few days—nature of the beast with car accidents.
Although if you practice martial arts you have a higher pain tolerance than most people.
Biggest thing? You need to rest your body because you have been through a trauma.”
She pointed at Knox. “Lucky you, having this handsome man at your beck and call. But
I wouldn’t get used to it.”

Shiori choked, and Knox immediately handed her a glass of water.

Dr. Ballard smiled. “You’re officially discharged. I’ll send an orderly in with a
wheelchair.” She eyed Shiori’s pants. “And something else to wear out of the hospital.
I can tell that’s not blood, but the folks in the waiting room can’t.” She swept out
of the room.

That’s when he realized he didn’t have a vehicle here to take
her home. Classes had started at Black Arts, so none of them were available. He used
Shiori’s phone and found the contact he wanted. The person who answered started the
conversation by apologizing profusely. “Yes, I’ll relay your apologies and recovery
wishes to Ms. Hirano. But right now we’re stranded at Denver Memorial General since
she rode here in an ambulance.” He listened. “That would be great. Emergency exit
in fifteen minutes. Thank you.” He hung up.

Shiori narrowed her eyes.

“What? They at least owe you a ride from here.”

She grabbed the notepad.

YOU ARE TAKING ME TO MY PLACE?

Knox shook his head. “You’ll stay with me.”

NO.

“Yes.” He got right in her stubborn face. “As your submissive, it is my right, my
duty, and my honor to take care of my Mistress. My house is a better option.”

WHY?

“Because your penthouse is a damn fortress. Everyone from Black Arts will want to
see if you’re okay. The security checks at your building would be exhausting. There
are no grocery stores within five miles of your place.”

She sighed.

FINE.

Knox kissed her forehead. “Thank you.”

THE
first night Shiori spent under Knox’s care had been a bit of a blur. She’d slept a
lot. In Knox’s arms on the couch and then in his big bed.

When she woke the morning of the second day, she’d hobbled into his shower, surprised
by how sore she felt—every bone in her body ached. Standing under the hot spray did
wonders, though, and she felt a million times better. She wrapped a big bath sheet
around her body and stopped in front of the sink.

Shiori hadn’t actually looked in a mirror since the accident. She opened her mouth
and stuck out her tongue. Her stomach roiled, and she made it to the toilet before
she threw up. Twice. Once she was reasonably certain she was done hurling, she flushed
and faced the mirror again.

Tentatively, she stuck her tongue out again and studied it with a critical eye. Damn
lucky she hadn’t bitten it off, so she should be grateful. But it sucked not to talk.
She couldn’t eat anything, and she had to ice it once an hour. She dumped a capful
of mouthwash in her mouth and swished it around, squeezing her eyes shut against the
zing of pain when the alcohol soaked the injuries. After a minute or so she spit it
out, then put a dot of toothpaste on her toothbrush and gently cleaned her teeth.

Without any of her own clothes here, she raided Knox’s T-shirt and sweatpants drawer.
She combed out her hair and ventured out of the bedroom to find Knox.

But the kitchen and the living room were eerily empty. She glanced out the front window
but didn’t see his pickup.

Daytime TV held no appeal. She really hated being stranded in a strange place with
nothing to do.

Sleep. You’re supposed to be resting.

Next she meandered through Knox’s living room, looking at the objects he’d chosen
to display. A warm, sweet feeling bloomed in her chest when she saw the picture she’d
painted for him front and center on the mantel. He had a bunch of military history
books and several piles of martial-arts magazines. She grabbed a stack of those and
curled up on the coach.

Some of the magazines were older—as much as five years. Tucked in the middle of the
stack was an issue of
American Jujitsu Association
. The front cover included a headline that the ten best dojos in the United States
were listed inside. She flipped to the article and her heart leaped at seeing Black
Arts in Denver, Colorado, listed as number three. There was a breakdown of why each
dojo had been chosen, the owner and the instructing staff. Her stomach dropped when
she saw the list:

Sensei Ronin Black, seventh-degree black belt

Beck Leeds, fifth-degree black belt

Gunnar Whatley, fifth-degree black belt

Brody Pearson, fifth-degree black belt

Knox Lofgren, fourth-degree black belt

Ito Tohora, third-degree black belt

Langston Reed, third-degree black belt

Shiori closed her eyes. The reason those men were no longer employed at Black Arts
was her fault. Because of Naomi. When it came out that Naomi had been paid to be with
Ronin, he immediately suspected that Beck, Gunnar, and Langston were also spies planted
by their grandfather. He’d fired them without giving them a chance to defend themselves.
In the aftermath, she’d questioned Ojisan and he’d sworn he’d never meddled in Ronin’s
professional life.

She wondered now if these guys held a grudge against Ronin and Black Arts.

Ronin still hadn’t recovered from losing his highest-ranking belts. Brody Pearson
had left in protest of Ronin shitcanning the other instructors. Most of the new staff
were first- and second-degree black belts—Knox had passed his fifth level right after
he’d been hired full-time. She knew from talking to Deacon that testing for the fourth-level
black belt was at least a couple of years away since he’d focused on MMA instead.

The key rattled in the front door, and she hastily shoved the magazine back in the
stack.

Knox strolled in, plastic grocery bags clutched in his hands. He didn’t notice her
as he headed to the kitchen. After dumping the bags on the counter, he cut down the
hallway to the bedroom. Half a minute later he returned, relief lighting up his face
when he saw her.

“Hey.” He dropped to his knees in front of her—without conscious thought, it seemed,
which thrilled her. His gaze took her in from head to toe. “Happy to see you up and
around. How’re you feeling?”

She made the so-so motion.

“Take any Motrin?”

She shook her head.

“Probably not a good idea on any empty stomach anyway. I’ll fix you lunch. I bought
chicken and beef broth.”

Oh joy. A clear, salty wannabe soup.

“I also picked up a bunch of Popsicles.” His eyes glommed on to her lips. “And I know
it sounds damn perverted, given the mouth injury you’re sporting, but watching you
eat them will give me all sorts of dirty, bad, wrong ideas.”

Shiori reached out and touched this face she knew so well. This face she loved so
much. And how ironic was it that the day she’d decided to tell him she loved him . . .
her tongue had been severely injured? Should she consider that a sign?

Only that you should’ve told him sooner.

“I need to put the food away before some of it melts.” He kissed her fingertips and
returned to the kitchen.

She’d lost interest in the magazines and replaced the stack where she’d found it.
Then she sat at the breakfast bar and wrote on her notepad.

I NEED CLOTHES.

Knox leaned over and read it. “Yes, kitten, I know you need clothes.” When he lifted
his head and grinned, her belly rolled again. “Which is why I picked up a few things
for you today.”

YOU WENT SHOPPING?

“Yep. And the salesgirls were very helpful.”

I’ll just bet they were happy to see a strapping Viking striding into their store.

He smoothed her lips with such tenderness she ached. Because he had no choice but
to be tender. Knox preferred the kind of kisses where they tried to eat each other
alive.

“I’ll be right back.”

He jogged out of the house, but his eyes held wariness when he walked back in carrying
two bags. The black logo of the Victoria’s Secret bag caught her attention first.

No doubt those saleswomen imagined what it’d be like for Knox’s hands to be cupping
their breasts as he picked out bras. Or they imagined Knox latching on to the tiny
string by the hip as he pulled the panties down with his teeth.

“Kitten, you okay?”

FINE. WHY?

“Sounded like you growled.”

THAT’S YOUR JOB.

He laughed. “True.”

SO DID YOU BUY KINKY STUFF?

“No. But I did buy what I’d like to see you in, Mistress, so please cut me some slack.”

SHOW ME!

“All right.” Knox reached into the bag and came out with black panties. Sheer, with
pink rosebuds on the string that sat on the hips. Next he pulled out a pair of mint-green
lace panties, followed by a pair of boy shorts, the deep purple of a ripe plum, and
finally an ivory-colored thong with a peach on the front as well as the words
BITE ME
.

VERY FUNNY.

“So I did okay?”

She nodded.

“Good. There’s matching bras in there too for each pair of underwear.”

Why hadn’t he shown her those? She plucked the bag from his hold and dumped the remainder
on the counter to see what screamed sexy to him. If any of these bras were padded,
she’d use one to gag him.

Fortunately for him, he’d paid attention to the types of bras she wore and his selections
were all very lovely.

THANK YOU.

“No problem. But I’m such a pig I’ll admit I like seeing you in no bra best.”

She smiled.

The next bag was from Saks. Two pairs of Juicy Couture lounge pants, with matching
camisoles. And two pairs of black yoga pants with two long-sleeved shirts, one gray,
one a pale pink.

AWESOME.

“And lastly . . . shoes.” He dropped a box containing the same Asics athletic shoes
she already had—in the right size—plus a pair of rhinestone FitFlops in black, and
a pair of sheepskin slippers.

Shiori studied this man who knew her better than she’d imagined.

HOW DID YOU KNOW MY SIZES?

Knox pulled her into his arms. “Not only have I had my hands and my mouth all over
you for almost three months, but I pay attention when it comes to you. Not because
I have to as some sub requirement, but as a man who wants to know everything about
you, including your offbeat color choices in underwear. I’ll admit I had to call Katie
and ask your shoe size.”

She managed a thick-tongued, “Thank you, Knox.”

He tipped her chin up. “No talking.”

She disentangled from his embrace.

NO KISSING EITHER.

“Afraid not.”

BUT YOU CAN KISS ME IN PLACES BESIDES MY MOUTH.

“You were in an accident. Your body has been through a lot.”

MY BODY NEEDS YOU. I NEED YOU. TAKE ME TO BED. AND I DON’T MEAN TO SLEEP.

“Is that an order, Nushi?” he asked softly.

She nodded.

“Hang on.” He carefully picked her up and carried her to his bedroom. The first thing
he did after depositing her on his bed was take off his shirt.

“I know you don’t think you’re fragile, but you are. I don’t want to hurt you.”

She mouthed, “You won’t.”

He ditched the pants. Then he kneeled on the bed and lifted the baggy T-shirt over
her head. He tapped her hip for her to lift up and the sweatpants were off. Gently
pushing her thighs apart, he made a place for himself there. His hands slid under
her butt cheeks, being careful not to squeeze too hard.

Teasing kisses skimmed the inside of her thigh. Left, then right. Knox pressed his
mouth against her core, licking her softly up one side and down the other. Swirling
that tongue around her
clit and then back down to her opening. That’s when his hands tightened—when he had
his tongue buried so deep inside her she wondered how he could breathe.

Shiori touched his forehead, then let her hands stroke his hair.

He looked up at her with his tongue still licking her pussy from the inside out. He
eased back, gifting her with more soft, sucking kisses. “Sometimes when I’m kissing
your mouth, I imagine kissing your pussy that way. But today, when I’m tonguing this
hot cunt, I’m imagining kissing your mouth.”

That sweet confession had her lying back on the bed, giving herself over to his care
completely.

Knox ate at her delicately. Languidly. But with the same passion that flared between
them at the first touch. And she’d focused on letting the sensations roll over her.
No hurry, no need to guide him. Hearing his sucking sounds, the occasional grunt,
and her quick intake of breath that meant her orgasm had crept up on her. Starting
with a tiny pulse in her clit, followed by stronger contractions until that moment
when every sensation coalesced and she went soaring.

He peppered kisses across the top of her mound as he slid his hands free.

As the fog cleared, she tried to rise up and bring him where she wanted him—on her,
in her.

But Knox had other plans. He pushed up to his knees, his eyes roaming over every naked
inch. “I want to roll you in Bubble Wrap so I don’t ever have to live through another
day like yesterday.” His hands spanned her waist and then drifted up to cup her breasts.
“But that’s the kicker, kitten. You are alive and here with me, and there’s no way
I’ll ever be able to let you go. Not because you’re my Mistress, but because you’re
the woman I love. The woman I’ve waited for my entire life.”

Before she could find any way to respond, she realized that she was crying. His sweet
confession had brought her to tears, yet she had never felt happier.

Knox petted and stroked her, every touch filled with the depths of his love and possession.
He rolled the condom on one-handed so he never stopped touching her.

Shiori reached between them and held his cock as he eased in inch by inch.

He rested his forehead to hers. “I love you, Shiori.”

If he hadn’t been gently sucking on her neck as he moved inside her, he would’ve seen
her mouth the words,
I love you, too.

*   *   *

AFTER
Knox so thoroughly wrecked her, she curled into a ball and fell asleep. When she came
to, shadows fell across the windows. Voices drifted down the hallway from the living
room. She stood and stretched, seeing that Knox had set clothes on the end of the
bed for her. She dressed, used the bathroom, and went to see who’d shown up.

Deacon and Maddox were having a beer with Knox. As soon as Deacon saw her, he was
off the couch heading toward her. He wrapped those muscled, tattooed arms around her
in a gentle hug. A long hug too. It had nearly reached the uncomfortable stage when
Deacon whispered, “Thank fuck you’re all right, Shi-Shi.”

He returned to his seat, and Knox held his hand out for her to sit on his lap. She
curled into his solid warmth and sighed.

Maddox smiled at her. “Glad to see you’re on the mend.”

She smiled back.

A huge bouquet of flowers sat on the entryway table.

Knox noticed where her focus had gone and said, “Get well soon from everyone at Black
Arts and ABC.”

“Fee and Katie wanted to drop them off personally, but your guard dog here is denying
everyone visitation,” Deacon said.

“She needs to rest. And, come on, those women would poke and prod her and probably
Instagram pictures of her tongue as well as convince her that shots of tequila are
the best remedy.”

Deacon nodded. “Shihan does have a point.”

For the first time since the accident, Shiori wondered who’d taken over hers and Knox’s
classes. She grabbed her notebook.

WHO IS TEACHING?

“Fee is taking over your classes. Blue spared Terrel. Zach pulled the stick out of
his ass finally and stepped up too.”