Page 200 of Fixation

Harper hasn’t stirred as I carried her down here. She feels safe with the monster. In the bed of a man whose heart hadn’t truly started beating until she showed up.

The same beating heart hasn’t forgotten about the day that piece of shit driver kidnapped her.

The pressure on my ribs hasn’t let up.

The hole inside my soul is ever present.

The relentless pulse in my temples that begs me to show her my darkest side.

It’s there.

It won’t go away unless we address our problem.

I brush my knuckles over her temple. She’s a deep sleeper and worked late last night.

Harper is such a beautiful woman in the white, see-through hospital gown I ordered for today.

Me, I’m fully clothed. Midnight blue slacks. White shirt with the sleeves rolled up to my elbows. A white lab coat with my tag attached to it.

Her doctor.

“I’ve been merciful over the last few days,” I whisper. “Delayed the inevitable as much as I could while you healed. Butthe time has come. The moment I show you how I ached. When I remind you who you belong to, and it’s not that driver.”

No more.

No.

More.

Soon. This has to be done the right way.

I’m not a fucking savage.

Her skin is soft. Her cheeks, her jaw. I’m tempted to lean in and bite her bottom lip. Have her wake up screaming.

She’ll scream, all right.

In a minute. When her eyes flutter open. Even when she realizes it’s me standing over her, not that motherfucking driver.

The pain I’ll administer will be her cure. She needs this as much as I do, a reminder of how much I love her.

With me back at the hospital tomorrow, I won’t be able to be here for her all day, the way I wish I could.

This, what I’m about to do, will guarantee that while I’m treating trauma patients in the ER, she’s thinking of me.

Her protector. Her nightmare. The only man who truly sees her.

I can’t hold back anymore. While she’s still resting peacefully, I push the hem of her gown up her thighs.

Heat rushes through me at the sight of a couple of purple bite marks adorning her inner thighs.

I wish I could say biting her was enough to calm me.

It isn’t. She still cries sometimes in the middle of the night. I still burn when I remember that exact moment when I thought she’d be taken from me.

I slide the gown up to her waist, exposing her pussy that I shaved last night. She wasn’t as afraid as she should’ve been, of me, of the blades. I could’ve nicked her while she was writhing on me. With her head on my shoulder. With my name on her lips.

Of course I didn’t hurt her.