Page 30 of A Knight’s Revenge: The Complete Series

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I lost track of where I was except that I was in Bennett’s arms. I heard the loud slamming of a door, and the warmth of central heating enveloped me.

The locker room.

The lights were off except for the emergency bulb above the door, leaving most of the room shrouded in shadows.

Bennett strode quickly through the room and into the shower area, and before I knew it, I was out of his arms and thrust into a stall.

He cranked the water on, turning the temperature to just barely warm, and then he pulled me into the stream by my soaking wet shirt.

“Take this off,” he demanded, the urgency in his voice a shock to my battered system. “Your shirt and your trou. Get them off before you freeze to death.”

“Okay,” I mumbled. I yanked at my shirt, but it was stuck to me.

“Shit, here.” He stripped me quickly, ripping my shirt over my head and pulling my shorts down to my ankles, leaving me only in my black sports bra and simple black cotton panties.

I stepped out of my shorts, and he grabbed my shoulders with his big hands and pushed my back to the tile wall, letting me rest against it as he angled the showerhead so that the water was aimed at my torso.

I trembled, the lukewarm water heating my core as the numbness slowly began to recede from my extremities, but it wasn’t calming the buzzing in my ears or fixing my tunnel vision or helping me fucking breathe normally.

“Hey,” Bennett snapped, grasping the sides of my face and forcing me to look into those mossy green eyes I remembered so well.

There was barely any light where we stood, but I could feel the intensity of his stare, the deep frown marring his handsome face, and the hard grind of his jaw as he assessed me intently.

“Look at me,” he demanded. “Breathe. You’re safe in here. Just breathe .”

“Bennett,” I said, teeth chattering. “I’m trying…. I can’t. I can’t breathe.”

“You’re having a panic attack,” he said, still cradling my face.

“Breathe with me. In and out. In and out.” He sucked in a big breath and blew it out slowly, repeating the same pattern.

I watched him, trying to match his breaths, and after a long, hard minute, I was able to slow my breathing enough to do it.

“Good girl,” he said, his gruff praise threatening to stir something deep within me, even in my state. “Are you warming up?”

“Yeah,” I said, still shaking. “I just… I fucking hate that river, Bennett. I hate it.”

“Interesting sentiment for someone who’s been rowing on that river for years,” he replied.

He stepped closer to me, turning off the water as he pulled the lone towel from the rack nearby and wrapped it around me.

He still wore his long sleeve crew T-shirt and tight black sweatpants, both a little damp at this point, and he studied my tortured face.

“Stop thinking about the river,” he commanded. “Stop it.”

“I can’t,” I moaned. It would be in my nightmares forever. He didn’t understand.

He moved his hands down to my bare hips, his fingers grazing the skin just above my panties.

Then he pulled me in close, enveloping me in his arms, and I could feel the warmth of his body as he held me tightly.

He rubbed my back with his big hands, still trying to calm me down, and we stood there, wrapped around each other in that warm shower for several long, quiet minutes as I sucked in big, shaky breaths.

I realized that while all of this had warmed me up considerably, bringing my brain back online, Bennett’s hands on my body were beginning to stoke a different kind of warmth in my belly that I had no strength left in me to smother.

“You’re still shaking,” he whispered, pulling back to look at me again. “What do you need?” His strong fingers dug into the skin at my hips. “ What? ” he asked again, now back to be bossy and demanding.

You.

“Distract me,” I croaked.

His green eyes heated at my plea. “Okay, focus on me,” he rumbled, dragging my eyes back to his again. “Just me.”

Then his hand dipped into the front of my panties, and he wasted no time in dragging his fingers down through my folds and straight to my clit.

Instead of batting him away for being a presumptuous shithead, I widened my legs to give him better access, our eyes still locked as my breath hitched.

He began to move his fingers in slow circles, coaxing me to follow him down this path, and all I could do was bite my lower lip and let out a tiny moan.

“Yeah?” he whispered, applying just a little more pressure on that sensitive bundle of nerves. “Better?”

“Better,” I breathed, my heart now pounding for a different reason. “More.”

He grinned at my demand, slow and sexy. “Are you wet for me?”

“My whole fucking body is wet, Spencer,” I snapped at him, his lazy, tortuous teasing of my clit driving me nuts.

He shook his head at me with a wry chuckle, like he’d expected my sass, right before he drove two thick fingers into me, both sliding in with little resistance because I hadn’t been lying.

He closed his eyes, groaning, before he snapped them back open to watch my face with rapt attention as I cried out, my scream at his sudden invasion turning to an obscene moan as he hooked his fingers right into my G-spot.

“Fuck, Bennett,” I whimpered as he began to thrust his fingers in and out of me, the heel of his hand hitting my clit with every stroke. “Oh shit.”

“Eyes on me,” he growled when my eyes fluttered closed, the pleasure that was building in my core threatening to overwhelm me. “Watch what I’m doing to you.”

“Oh my God,” I whispered in what was nearly a whine as my eyes snapped back to his gorgeous face. I lifted my hands to grip him by his damp shoulders as he upped his pace, his fingers working furiously inside me and his hand rubbing against my clit with hard, fast pressure. “ Bennett .”

“Yes,” he rasped. “Say my fucking name when you come. Forget everything else. There is nothing else except my fingers in your pussy and my name on your lips.”

Jesus Christ, I was never going to come back from this. That fucking river took everything out of me, and now Bennett was just going to fill me back up with him .

“Bennett,” I gasped. I was wound so tight, teetering right on the edge. “Fuck, I’m going to come. Oh my God.”

Groaning, he drove his fingers harder, his free hand pinning me to the wall so that all I could do was stand there and take it.

And then Bennett Spencer, the boy I used to build blanket forts with and chase around the house with a plunger that I claimed was a sword, the boy I used to goad into a temper tantrum over games of Monopoly and slumber peacefully next to in a sleeping bag on the floor of his living room, dragged from me the very first orgasm I’d ever had that wasn’t by my own hand.

I screamed, pleasure rocketing from my core through my no-longer-numb limbs, and I gripped Bennett’s shoulders so hard he would be left with the imprint of my fingernails for days.

“Bennett!” I cried.

“Fuck yes ,” he hissed. “Come for me.”

I whimpered, the aftershocks pulsing through me, and I was spent—finished, done for, never coming back. I slumped further down the wall, and he steadied me as my orgasm finally ebbed. We stared at each other, both of us panting now, and he finally pulled his hand from my panties.

He stepped away, disappearing out of the shower for a few seconds before he returned with a towel tossed around his shoulders.

He moved in close, cupping my cheek with one hand and directing my attention back to his face again.

The hard glint in his mossy eyes told me this hot little detour was now over, and we were getting back to business .

“Withdraw from Holywell and transfer to a new school next semester,” he said, his words somehow gentle but still dripping with authority. “If you try to come back here after the holidays, I’ll have your scholarship pulled.”

I could only give him a flat stare back. Arguing with him about this would accomplish nothing.

“You could have died!” he barked, irritated by my silence, and the flash of distress on his face as he uttered those words was so fleeting, I must have imagined it. “This ends now, Joanna. This is not the place for you.”

I sighed. I was so, so tired. “You can leave now, Bennett. Thanks for not letting me drown.”

He released his hold on my head, now staring down at me with a cold and calculating look.

The silence that lingered between us was deafening, disturbed only by the sound of the slow drip of remaining water from the showerhead.

He finally turned away, tossing his towel into a corner on the floor and stalking out of the locker room without a backward glance.

I stood in the empty shower, wrapped up in my towel, and I let the events of the evening finally sink in. Everything was so fucked up, and I needed to sleep for a week.

“Too bad I can’t do that,” I murmured to myself, lifting my hand to stare at what I’d been hiding in my clenched fist.

Bennett’s key ring dangled from my fingers, his Spencer Tower key fob glinting in the low light of the shower room like a priceless treasure.

My head was finally clear. It was time to fucking do this.