Page 7 of Devoted (Love and Burlesque #2)

CHAPTER SEVEN

VIVIAN

Please and thank yous.

“ I should probably get off the stairs, right?” I ask with an awkward chuckle, already raising myself. With a groan, Knight follows me up, keeping his arm behind my back even after I take the last step to meet him at the landing.

A pained sound leaves my lips. My ankle is giving me some trouble when I try to step on it, and I have to brace myself against the wall.

Shit , this isn’t good. I still have a ton to do before I can call it a night.

Thankfully, the costumes for the dancers are all set up.

“What’s wrong?” Knight searches my face.

“My ankle feels a little weird, but I’m sure it’s fine.” I try to put weight on it again. Ouch. Nope, it’s definitely not supposed to feel like that.

“No, not fine. You need to get it looked at.” His tone leaves no room for argument, and any rebuke I might have gets cut off by my yelp as Knight suddenly wraps his free arm behind my knees and lifts me into his arms and against his chest with almost no effort.

My arms automatically wrap around his neck in an attempt to keep balanced.

Fucking swoon.

Before I can even pretend to protest, he’s leading us out of the stairway, behind the stage, and toward the bar.

I feel bad. I know I’m not super light, and I can tell he’s hurt more than he’s showing because of the tiny hitches in his steps.

With those injuries, along with the scratches and bruises I saw, I don’t know how he’s managing to move me around almost effortlessly.

What happened to him?

“Wait, you didn’t tell me how you got hurt,” I comment as he moves us through the empty booths and tables in the audience area.

The club is thankfully empty other than a few employees prepping for the show. I’m not sure how people would react to seeing our boss carrying me like this or how I would explain the situation.

There isn’t anything that necessitates him carrying me like a blushing bride. I could have made it off stage just fine without him… but this feels good . More than good, it feels amazing, and I’m already thinking of how I can make him carry me again someday.

“The stairs had a vendetta against me as well.” Knight’s comment is almost lost to me. My brain was preoccupied with obsessing over how his strong arms feel around me.

“You fell down the stairs? It looks like someone kicked your ass and then pushed you down them, Knight.” He rolls his eyes at my response, and I wonder how a grown man can be so freaking sassy.

Two can play at that game, though. “Should you even be carrying me right now, old man?” My expression is full of mischief when he catches my stare again.

“Don’t tell your boss what he should or shouldn’t do, Vivian.” Knight’s tone is serious, accompanied by an irritated pucker of his lip. I’m so close to laughing at how it makes his mustache move diagonally. “And don’t call me old.” The last sentence is quietly grumbled, so I almost don’t hear it.

“You’re what, forty?” I ask while Knight shuffles us through the entrance of the bar, finessing the bar top open with a kick of his foot.

“Forty-three as of last month,” he answers, sounding absent-minded with his offhand tone. I’m surprised he’s sharing this with me; he seems like the kind of guy you need to torture information from.

“Hmm…” I tap my chin in pretend thought. “I could have sworn you were at least fifty-five.” Knight drops me onto a bench in the back room of the bar. Was it a gentle drop-off? Not really. My butt cheek kind of hurts. Was it worth it to see his eyes roll at me again? Hell yeah.

“Very funny,” he states with a mock laugh, his hands digging through a cabinet nearby, which holds a first aid kit.

While he’s searching, I take a look at my ankle, seeing how it’s already a little swollen.

Reaching down, I tug my shoe off carefully.

Bracing my hands beside me on the bench, I wiggle my toes and rotate my foot as much as I can.

A sign of relief escapes me when I realize I still have a good range of motion.

“Shouldn’t need too much intervention, then.” Knight kneels in front of me, his hands motioning to my leg. “May I?” From this angle, his eyes are hooded, and the glimpse of bright sapphire irises distracts me from his question.

“I’m sorry?” I ask, confusion covering my features for a moment.

“ Please , may I?” he repeats, adding in a pretty “ please ” that is softly spoken… like he’s begging. Fuck me. Why did an innocent question sound so seductive coming from his lips?

Without thinking about it, I lean back on the bench, my arms supporting my upper body as my body instinctively arches to lift my leg. My chest is thrust upward—and being the main characters that they are, my boobs jiggle with the movement.

There is a delicious, visible strain building up in Knight’s neck as he stares at me, looking like he’s battling himself for control, and it makes me feel powerful .

With our height difference, we are almost eye-to-eye, and I don’t break my stare as my pointed foot delicately plants itself onto Knight’s knee.

“You may.” All my effort goes into keeping my voice steady. I don’t know what I’m playing at, acting so salacious with my boss of all people, but the way my skin tingles as he shakily runs his fingers along my ankle tells me this is right .

“Thank you.” His reply is more of a whisper. The only reason I know what he said is because I was staring at his lips forming the words.

This is electrifying. This sense of connection and push and pull.

At a loss for words, I can only give him a small nod in the direction of my injured foot, letting him know to continue.

Knight is the one to break our intense stare off. I see his chest rise with a deep breath before he begins to wrap the compression bandage around my ankle and below the heel of my foot, repeating the process several times.

Then, something snaps—thankfully, not my tendon.

Suddenly, Knight stops wrapping the compression bandage around my foot and sets it down onto the backroom floor.

“I’m sure you can manage the rest,” Knight utters. Within a second, he’s standing up and looking down at me. I can tell he’s upset. His brow is furrowed, and he runs his hand through his hair. “Try not to be such a liability around here, Vivian.”

Before I can reply and ask what the fuck just happened, he’s storming out the swinging door and back toward the main room.

Remorse claws at me. I shouldn’t have done that. He was just being nice and making sure his employee didn’t have a bad injury, and I… Well, I’m not really sure what I did, but it was the wrong thing to do if he reacted that way.

But why did he carry me? He was only concerned I’d blame him somehow.

But why did he beg to touch me?

As I’m securing the stretchy cloth with a pin, Emma comes into the back room with a bag full of ice.

“Knight said you needed this?” she asks as she sits down on the bench with me.

The ice soothes my bruise immediately when she presses it to my skin.

“Girl, what was that all about? He carried your ass in here.”

“Em, I wish I knew.”