"You can't keep teasing me like this. Just do it already." I latch my fingers around the back of his head and press down, forcing his mouth onto my tit. I can feel the warmth of his breath on my chest, tongue inches away. So clear that I can picture it under my closed eyes.

Thud. Thud.

I let go and cover my chest with the tattered remains of my shirt. King jumps off the bed and goes straight for his jacket. The silver barrel shines underneath the rising sun. He brings a finger to his mouth to silence me.

Thud. Thud.

King moves. There's not a break in his step.

The noise seems to be coming from my front entrance. King's back is against the wall, pistol in hand when the sounds echo through the apartment again. He dashes, covering the sound of his footsteps with the noise from the front door.

I jump off the bed and I'm close behind. I don't want to be in that room by myself. There's not a part of me that feels safe inside this apartment anymore, not without King at least.

Thud. Thud.

King sets himself next to the door, his finger gripping the doorknob. He looks at me for a moment before throwing the door open. Pistol in front of him and index finger on the trigger, he swings his body left and right.

Outside, the sound of a car peeling away from the building shudders the windows. A couple of car alarms pierce through the morning air. Probably waking up everyone on this block and the next one over.

Thud.

I look back to the doorway and King's gone.

"King," I shout.

My heels beat on the wooden floor. I run to the front door, grabbing the broom off the ground and holding it out in front of me.

I can't lose him right now. Not after all I've been through.

With half closed eyes and swinging hands, I round the corner and start unleashing a torrent of broom thistles. "Let him go," I shout.

"Camilla. Camilla. Cami!"

A hand grabs hold of the end of the broom and holds it still in the air. Uneven in my footing, I fall over and open my eyes. King's standing in front of me. Broom in one hand and the neighbor's cat in the other.

Seeing me falling toward him, he lets go of the broom and catches me with his free hand. I look up at him, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. There are scratches on his face, but I can't tell if that's cause of me or the cat.

"I thought... I thought..." I don't finish the sentence. I don't even want to think about what could have happened to him.

"I'm okay. This little guy scared the shit out of me." He holds up Snowball, the neighbor's Maine Coon, who doesn't look particularly happy about being held by some stranger. "He must have been freaked out by whoever was out here." King sets Snowball down, and the cat scurries off down the hallway, looking at us before turning the corner. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I answer, blowing hot air through my nostrils and pulling away from his touch. I cross my arms and walk toward the front door. I'm nearly there when King's hands grab my shoulder.

He turns me around and his hand dips my head back, forcing me to look at him. "What's the matter?"

"I thought you got shot or hurt." I do one glance over his body, making sure that he really isn't injured.

His hand on my chin shakes before I hear him chuckle. "Is that why you came out here running with that broom in hand?"

I nod. It seemed like a good idea in the moment.

He picks the broom off the ground and runs his hands through the bristles. "You would have given him some deep scratches with this," he says, holding back laughter. "Completely swept him away," he hollers, throwing his head back with laughter.

I roll my eyes and try not to laugh at his lame jokes. "I was coming to your rescue, jerk."

He sets the broom aside and brings a hand to my waist, pulling me toward me. "Thanks." He stares into my eyes for so long that I have to look away. That's when his gaze falls down on my chest. "You realize that you don't have a shirt on, right?"

I look down to see my nipples at full attention and pointing straight at him. I try to bring my hands up to cover them, but he holds them at my side. "Don't. Let me enjoy the sight for a little longer." After a couple of forceful pulls, I break free of his grasp and hold a breast in each palm. My cheeks are burning red, but I turn my attention to the door.

There are several deep gashes on it. Some of them are at least six inches long and two inches deep.

King grows serious and runs his finger along the grooves.

"What do you think could do that much damage?"

He looks a little closer and squints his eyes. "The only thing that comes to mind is a axe. The kind that firemen use to break into a burning building. Whoever was out here wanted to get in your apartment badly."

I run one finger along the groove, thinking of what would have happened if the person had gotten through. There would have been no way for me to defend myself. Not against an axe-wielding psychopath. And certainly not with a broom.

I pull King's chest against mine and sink my head into his body. If he hadn't been here to protect me, I would be a complete and total mess. The only reason that I'm still able to keep myself together is cause of him.

"Don't leave me," I breathe out.

King's hand moves through my hair and pushes my head against his chest. "Never."

Chapter 12.

It's been two weeks since the attack on my door. King and I have every reason to believe that it was Tommy, but we don't have any evidence to prove it.

Meanwhile, King's moved in with me. He sleeps on the couch outside and helps me when I wake up drenched in sweat and screaming. Every night, it's a battle for me to get to sleep.

I need King by my side, holding me and sitting next to me. It's the only way that I can calm myself down enough to close my eyes.

Although, the sleep only lasts for a couple hours. Every time I close my eyes, I see Tommy banging his axe against the door outside. Or Tommy at the side of my bed watching me sleep.

I can't escape him no matter what I do. He's affected every part of my life.

I can't sleep. I can't even paint anymore. Nothing about the loft feels safe anymore, even with King here.

Lucky for me, Jean's been able to buy some time for me. Appeasing the rich clients that have bought my work. I don't know how long he can keep it up for, but I'm thankful he's not pushing me to produce.

Since King's moved in, we've been working on fixing the apartment here and there. Trying to bring it back to normal. At least, as much as we can. Although, it will never feel like it used to anymore. Not after Tommy's violated it over and over.

I curl up on the couch and look at the clock. King should be home in thirty minutes.

Home?

Why does it seem like King and I are one happy family all of a sudden? I can't help; but think what will happen after all this is over.

I sip my cup of scalding hot tea and think of that hot, passionate night in my room. Nothing's happened since then. Neither of us have made any moves toward the other.

At least ones that are intentional.

I let a smile break on my face as I remember the countless times I've caught King checking me out. I'll never admit it to him right now, but I like the attention he gives me.

The way he stops washing the dishes when I bend over to place them in the cabinet, his eyes undressing me. Or the way he clears his throat and his cheeks grow red when I catch him. I'll never confront him about it. Only because I do the same.

Over the last two weeks, there have been countless nights where he's come home covered in oil and sweat. Sometimes forgetting that I'm home and undressing in the living room before hopping in the shower. Giving me eyefuls of his hard body and the package between his legs. Or even the accidental towel slips when he gets out of the shower.

At least he says that they're accidental. Part of me thinks that he's lying. Just cause we've been apart for four years doesn't mean I forgot his tells.

The little smirk or twinkle in his eyes when he thinks he's been clever and pulling a fast one over me. It didn't work on me back then and it won't work right now.

I take a big gulp of my tea, letting the hot, sugary liquid burn my throat. Forcing me to wake up from my little dreamworld.

If it weren't for everything with Tommy, everything about this would be so perfect. Spending late nights with King, watching old romantic movies that we used to adore. Sharing every little detail from over the last four years that both of us had missed.

Each day that passes, I can feel myself forgiving him a little more. The cold metal lock breaking around my heart. I find myself getting closer and closer to him. Telling myself that he's been here with me when no one else was. Protecting and consoling me like no one else can.

I walk to the kitchen, setting the mug in the sink. I lean against it and let my imagination take hold.

Behind me the front doorknob jiggles a little. I spin around and press my back against the counter-top, body freezing. I watch it for a moment before I open a drawer and pull out a knife.

It jiggles a little more before I hear the jingle of keys. The audible click of the locks fills the room and my grip tightens around the handle of my knife. All of my concentration is on the doorknob.

The door opens slowly and King peeks his head inside. He looks at me standing there. His gaze falling on the knife in my hand. "Sorry. Hands are a little greasy and couldn't get a grip on the knob." He sets down his work duffel bag and walks toward me, taking the knife away and setting it aside.

I can't help it. Every little sound has me on edge.

"I don't feel safe in this place anymore," I say for the umpteenth time.

He pulls me in closer and strokes my hair. I don't even care that his hands are dirty. All I need right now is just him by my side.

"I know. I know," he repeats over and over. "No one is going to hurt you while I'm here."

I just pull him closer and feel everything give way. I let him hold my body and he guides me to the couch. He rocks with me for a couple minutes before lifting himself up. "Where were we?"

He walks over to the sink, washes his hands, and picks up a painting from the corner of the room.

I point to the nail at the other corner of the living room. This is our daily ritual.

King comes home. Together we put back pieces of the apartment. Fragments of what once was there before Tommy broke it all.

King says that it's the only way that I can move on. Some days it helps more than others.

I wasn't feeling it today.

King gets to the tip of his toes, his brown work boots bending. He lifts the painting above his head and tries to catch the string behind it. The back of his shirt rises and gives way to the muscles on his back.

I bite my lip and take him in. I could eat him up right now. Covered in sweat and all.

"Am I close?"

"A little more."

He gets closer to the wall and gets at the tip of his toes, making his work shirt rise more. I take in the intricate tattoos on his back and watch him struggle, his skin turning a lovely hue of dark red as he breathes hard. When he finally gets the string on the nail, he lets out a breath and brings his hands to his knees.

There's a pool of sweat on his brow. I pick myself up and walk toward him, this time taking him by the chin. He looks at me with those blue prisms, his head tilting to the side in confusion.

He's about to open his mouth, when I place a finger on his lips. I pull him up and open my mouth slightly, giving him a light peck on the lips. He brings a hand behind my back and pulls me in for a deeper one, not wanting to let go. After a couple hearty slaps of our lips, I manage to pull away from his hot embrace.

He runs the tip of his tongue along the middle of his lips. "What was that for?"

"Just a little thanks for everything you've done the last couple weeks." I peel away from him and and sway my hips side to side. I can feel his gaze on my ass and let him get a longer look before I slink into the bathroom to wash the grease out of my hair.

"You're never going to get rid of me if you keep doing things like that," he shouts before I close the door.

I turn around and poke my head between the small opening. "Oh, really?" I roll my eyes like the thought had never crossed my mind. "And why would I want to get rid of you?"

I catch his right lip lift up in his signature smirk. I close the door and grip the bathroom sink. I bring a hand to my heart and feel it beating faster than a hummingbird's wings.

Slowly, but surely I'm falling back in love with Arthur "King" Stone.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Chapter 13.

"All right, if something happens and I'm not here, just flick this switch," King says, pointing to the newly installed light switch by the bedroom door.

He closes the door and flips it down, and there's an audible click of the locks. A little red light above my bed flicks on to let me know that the locks are in. King's phone chirps.

He flips it open and speaks into it. "Camilla, can you hear me?" His voice sounds off next to my head on the loud speaker.