Home > Honor (The Breaking Point #1)(74)

Honor (The Breaking Point #1)(74)
Author: Jay Crownover

“What about your actions, Gates? What do they make you?” He indicated where I was going, leaving him pinned to the floor. “A pimp? A murderer? A fucking psychopath?”

Yeah, my actions definitely made me all of those things at one point or another, but they also made me a man that was taking care of his city, his business, and his woman. I wouldn’t apologize for that. My methods didn’t always lead to a perfect outcome but I had learned early on in life that the only way to get anywhere was to fight for what you wanted. So I would be accountable for the things I had screwed up and I would always fight and hopefully win. Even if that victory took years and years to earn.

I left the man on the floor, stuck and screaming after me. I sincerely hoped none of his neighbors got curious and went in and freed him. He deserved to die in the piles of his own filth. It was a fitting way for the bastard to go out.

It had been a waste of a night, considering that I now had a motive but still no location for Tyler, and I was annoyed that Key never texted me back. When I got back to my house in the woods, all I wanted to do was strip naked and scrub off everywhere I had been tonight. I felt like I was covered head to toe in the Point and the filthy atmosphere was suffocating me. I kicked off my boots before going inside and calling Keelyn’s name.

I scowled when she didn’t answer and worked my shirt off over my head as I headed up the stairs toward my room. My bed was obviously empty even though the lights in the room were on, and there was still no sign of Key. The suit I had asked Bayla to grab and take to the cleaners was in a heap in front of the closet, which was unusual. I added my shirt and the rest of my clothes from tonight to the pile and padded naked to the bathroom. I pushed the door open and came up short because Key was standing in front of the massive vanity meticulously placing all her different tubes and jars of makeup on the countertop.

She was humming under her breath and had earbuds dangling off either side of her face. She was dressed in nothing more than a tiny little tank top and a pair of stretchy yoga pants that were molded to her like a second skin while she wiggled and shook to the music only she could hear. I blinked at her like an idiot. Men used to pay hundreds of dollars a minute to get her to do that kind of show and here she was performing it in my bathroom for free.

I reached out a finger, hooked one of the buds, and yanked. “What are you doing?”

She whirled around and gaped at me. I wasn’t sure if it was because I surprised her or because I was totally naked, but either way her jaw dropped and her gaze skipped over my stomach and went right to my dick, which, as always, was really happy to see her.

“I’m moving in. Where are your clothes? You’re very naked.”

I grunted and moved around her so I could crank on the shower. “They need to be burned. Even in the Point there are some places that are worse than others. I swear I saw all of them tonight. What do you mean you’re moving in? Weren’t you already here?”

I looked at her over my shoulder as steam started to billow out of the glass enclosure. Her eyes were locked on my backside, and if I wasn’t mistaken she was licking her lips. I cleared my throat and grinned at her as she jerked her head up to look at me with a faint blush on her cheeks.

“I mean I moved in. My stuff is now with your stuff and you don’t get to kick me out when we fight . . . which we will.”

I scoffed at her and reached up to pull my hair down. “It took me too long to get you here. I would never kick you out.” I let out an “oof” as she slammed into the front of me and I had to put my hands on her waist to keep us both from falling back into the open shower. “And you told me it isn’t fighting . . . it’s foreplay.”

Her hands went up to my hair and started playing around with the tie that kept it trapped on the top of my head.

“I was dying to take it down as soon as you put it up.” Her words were laced with humor and her breath was hot on my throat. My cock reacted predictably but so did my heart, which started to bang and slide all around the inside of my chest, trying to find enough room to fit now that she had meticulously put all the pieces of it back together.

“I’m really dirty. You might want to wait until I clean up before you put your hands on me.”

She was combing her fingers through my now freed hair and gently working them through the parts that were tangled up from being tied up all night. She gave a delicate little snort and lifted up on her toes so that her lips could press into mine.

“A shower isn’t going to make you clean, Nassir. I’ll put my hands on you no matter what shape you come to me in, as long you get back to me in one piece. That’s all I care about anymore.”

It was a sweet sentiment, one that made my heart thud even harder for her and her alone, but it didn’t change the fact that I was actually physically dirty and could feel the city sitting heavy in all my pores. Without warning, I took a big step backward and pulled her with me into the shower. She swore at me as the water drenched her and immediately plastered her clothes down her body. She used two hands to push her hair out of her face but begrudgingly took the body wash I handed her and started to work the liquid over my shoulders and chest while I scrubbed my hair within an inch of its life. She’d helped me pull those haphazard stitches out a few days ago, so it felt good to scrub my scalp.

“I like coming back to you.” I meant coming back to her in my space, in my life, so deep there was no way she could ever leave.

“Good. Wanna tell me how your night went?” Her hands skated over my abs and her index finger dipped in my belly button, which had me sucking in a breath. I frowned when I noticed a dark shadow around her eye and what looked like a raw scrape mark at her hairline.

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