His Pretty Little Burden: A Dark Mafia, Age Gap Romance (Kids of The District Book 4)

FOOTSTEPS SAIL INTO MY SUBCONSCIOUS, and then I’m floating through the air and placed on the mattress. Before I’m able to react, able to provoke my body into action, my mind is drifting back out to slumber’s wide arms.

The scent of sweet smoke encloses me.

A soft caress on my thigh taps at my consciousness.

Desire builds in my core as soft material slowly slides down my thighs, my body shuffling even as my mind lags to what is taking place. My underwear…

I flutter my eyes open, finding Clay a dark shadow hovering over me. Glowing blue eyes are fixed on my face. His hand is beside my head on the cushion, his other gliding my dress over my torso.

He’s undressing me. Wait. I’m angry at him. What’s happening? My heart wakes up with a start, throwing my pulse into a wild rhythm that moves between my ears and rattles within my throat. My anger, the betrayal, it all turns to ash as the reality of what’s happening ignites.

‘Sir?’ Is all I can say beneath his dark gaze, his eyes never leaving mine as he undresses me. I let him. Aid him. Lifting and wriggling and using my own hands to remove everything until I’m lying naked beneath his formidable, suited wall of muscles.

Then he plants his other hands beside my head, creating a cage with his big powerful arms.

Breaking our connection, his eyes pan down my body and his cheek muscles pulse once. I don’t know what it means, but that small action crawls inside me with a warning.

I blink up at him, not able to catch up, can’t seem to refocus my mind on the moment. His shoulders are taut, coiled, and ribbed with muscles protruding like wings either side of his neck. My eyes catch on his tongue, tracking its slow movement as he traces his lower lip. It’s full of meaning. Full of intention. Say something, Fawn. ‘You had no right to drag me away from him. You had—’

His eyes snap to mine again. ‘You lied to me.’

I think about his smile. The one he gave Landon, and an angry sob fills my throat. ‘You chose him over me.’

‘I did nothing of the sort,’ he says as his head dips towards me, his heavy breath heating my cheeks. We have never been this close before, the intensity not sweet and gentle but volatile, battering my frenzied heart. The mattress vibrates beneath me as his arms contract, his muscles flexing within the fitted shirt sleeves. He’s shaking. Angry? Glowing predator-like eyes pin me to the mattress. ‘Has that boy been inside you, little deer?’

My stomach flips. ‘No.’

‘You said you didn’t know who the father is.’

‘I don’t,’ I assure him, that I didn’t lie to him—about that at least. ‘I mean… I think… Did he say something to you?’ God, Fawn. Think. Think of questions. What did Landon say? The heavy, distracting cage of his arms begins to shake harder, drawing my focus from Landon, the questions, the betrayal, that smile, to this moment. ‘Sir,’ I whisper, gazing into his fierce eyes, ‘you’re shaking.’

‘You have been keeping your intentions from me, my girl. That disrespects me.’

‘You disrespected me by pulling me away like a child, by making me the outsider, by smiling at him, by letting him think you’re on his side like everyone else is. Letting him think he’s won! They always—’

He grabs my mouth hard, forcing my cheeks together within his aggressive clasp. ‘You need a goddamn pacifier, girl. You need something in this mouth to stop your incessant thoughts.’

Then his lips crash with mine, his tongue punctures between inside, and my entire body burns up. There is no other thought, not a single fucking rational direction only a foggy abyss of sensation.

I close my eyes, fist the sheets beside my naked body, falling helplessly into invincibility. God, I never want to forget the texture of his mouth, fierce and warm, the domination of his lips taking mine like they want to swallow me, the taste lingering as his tongue plunges into my mouth, eating my moans and whimpers.

He kisses me hard.

He kisses me deep.

I know my mouth is inexperienced, but he seems to want it anyway. My mind reels. My lips exist for him to consume. Take. Bruise. I gasp for breath, so he gives me his, purposely exhaling into my lungs, filling me with everything him. It’s too much.

Tears surface, clinging to my eyes. The raw possessiveness behind his mouth forces the muscles inside me to pump uncontrollably, begging shamelessly with each pulse. I lift my hips off the mattress, needing pressure, needing him.

He growls. Dragging his hand from beside my head, he balances on the other. He cups my pussy, pushing down, slamming my pelvis back to the mattress.

But the weight of him…

God, the authority in it.

It twists desire into a hot ball inside me. My hips buck inadvertently, fighting against his hold. Barely able to move under his mass, I enjoy the crushing feel.

His hand pins me down.

I rub into his hold.

When my pussy grows wetter, leaking onto his hand, he bites down on my lower lip, provoking startled yelps from me. Whimpers seep through my lips, shame circles, but I can’t stop my hips from grinding against his scorching hot palm.

He rumbles in response. When teeth seem to pierce the skin on my lower lip, my body freezes. His tongue laps along the burning flesh before he leans back. My eyes widen at the sight of crimson gloss marring his lips. I’m bleeding. He bit me. And I’ve never seen anyone look so feral and wonderful all at once.

He glares at my flushed face.

Works his jaw muscles.

Venom and warning ripe behind his eyes.

Something wars within him.

‘Fuck it,’ he hisses, yanking open the top button of his pants, dragging the zipper down, the sound resonating inside me like a drum counting down.

My eyes widen.

God… this is it.

His steady gaze never wavers. His face would seem cruel if not for the genuine want and vulnerability in his endless blue irises.

As he pulls his cock out, fisting the root roughly, he parts his lips, exhaling in a rush, relief tumbling down his breath.

I rip my eyes away from the intensity in his, panning down to watch his fist working his cock in long, firm strokes.

Oh. My. God.

I pant as he drags his tight palm three lengths worth up his dripping shaft. The throbbing muscle is thick and hard, long with a perfect upward arch. Three aggressive veins create bulging blue channels up the length. The black lines from his torso tattoo lick down, finishing at the root.

Just like him, it’s larger than life, so perfectly formed, steel-like and menacing.

He watches my throat roll slowly.

It’s going to hurt. If he fucks me like he just kissed me, he’s going to rip me in two. I shake my head to argue, but no words leave my arid mouth.

He drops his cock. The length of it strokes his shirt, the weight of it swaying and bobbing.

It happens fast. He handles me, pulling me to the edge of the mattress where he stands and pushes my knees apart, exposing me, spreading me open like an invitation. My heels slip off the mattress, my backside nearly on the edge.

Wrapping my legs around his back, he straightens to study the length of my form as I grow wetter and wetter, preparing for him. How does he do that? My body reacts to his instantly. It’s so wrong. So animalistic.

I hold my breath, and we both watch as his fingers touch my slick pussy lips. ‘So pretty. Do you want me to stretch you with my fingers first? I’d very much like to do it with my cock.’ Wide-eyed, I peer up at him, a looming muscular physique unhidden even within his clothes. ‘I’m already completely possessed by you, and I haven’t even been inside you,’ he states. ‘I need you to know that as soon as my cock enters your body, you belong to me. Not as a lover. Nothing that trivial. In every way. You won’t like what that means… Tell me to stop.’ He nudges his cock at my pussy, still using his fingers to touch the outer lips. I wriggle against them, and they slide around in my wetness. His eyes darken, his tone dangerous with warning as he says, ‘Tell. Me. To. Stop. Fawn.’

I can’t. Words are hard to find, while air is thick and impossible to draw in. ‘I… I… Will you fit?’

He lets out a deep growl and bands my small waist with his big warm palms. I can’t move as his face tightens under the sensation of watching his cock part the flesh. ‘Yes.’

Then he drags me down the steel-like length of him. I cry out as I’m slowly impaled on his thick, long erection until he has to force himself further in on a throaty groan.

He’s halfway sheathed within me when a smile crosses his lips. I gasp for air under the dark inference.

My pussy burns, utterly stretched at where he enters me. My core protesting. The muscles enveloping him pulse like they are broken, stalling. My cheeks flush, heat from the embarrassment over the way he must feel them, too—kneading him—feeling my body gripping his. Shame spirals through me. It’s not in my control. I don’t know if that’s normal.

I try to stop the contractions, but I can’t.

‘You feel so good, sweet girl,’ he says, his words blanketing my concern in warmth. ‘You’re strong inside. I had a feeling you would be. And you’re the prettiest thing. Too pretty. Don’t fight me. You belong to me now.’

My hands fly up to grip the taut muscles on his arm as he stretches my sensitive insides open to take him to the hilt. I can’t move, impaled on him, so utterly full.

He stills when he hits the end of me, dropping his head backwards, his twitching muscles waring with his restraint. Lifting his head again, he glares down at me. ‘You will be a good girl for me, little deer. Do as you’re told, and everything will be okay. You will let me fuck any part of you. You will take me like a good girl. And you will thank me when I kill the boy who put this baby inside you while you were too high to consent.’

I keep whimpering; he keeps smiling, seemingly awash with release already, relenting to an urge held captive.

What? Kill—

Impatient, he doesn’t wait for me to comprehend his words or the sting. Doesn’t wait for my body to relax around his before he tightens his hold on my hips and starts to fuck me. My pussy convulses uncontrollably, and all other thoughts and sensations flee. I am overwhelmed and embarrassed by the feel of him pumping in and out of my soft pulsing flesh.

‘Fawn.’ My name comes through a strained growl as he drags himself out and pushes back in again. ‘Fuck. Mine.’ He squeezes my hips, angling me, lifting me, using me as he thrusts into my body.

‘Not that boy’s.’

Thrust.

‘Not Dustin’s.’

Thrust.

‘Mine.’

I chant. ‘Oh God. Oh God.’

He watches his cock drive in and out, his eyes glued to that private part of us as he slides me along him. ‘Good girl, you are taking me so well.’ He then murmurs to me in another language; his rumbling cadence, twisted and desperate, soars over my body as he fucks me.

And even though he is relentless in his domination, making my small frame take him over and over again, I have never felt so completely safe. I don’t know what that says about me. I don’t want to think about it right now. I listen to him groan in that sensual language. And I don’t know what he is saying, but the sentiment behind his deep timbre carries security into my heart and soul.

While he takes what he wants, watching closely so he doesn’t miss anything, I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to handle all the stimulation, needing to block out the sight of him so carnal I’ll explode if I keep looking.

It comes on fast.

It’s not a subtle rise of sensation like when he spanked me, or a shy unpredictable orgasm like when I touched myself. This pleasure builds with the same brutal force as the pounding of his pelvis between my legs. I open my eyes to see him still feral with pleasure, watching my body take his punishing thrusts.

His eyes snap to mine as he meticulously tilts my pelvis, rolls his hips, hitting the buzzing muscle inside me, once, twice, and then fire ignites in my abdomen. Exploding through the rest of my body, the bolts of pleasure and heat reach my fingertips and drop to my toes.

Fuck. He knows what to do with my body to make it break with agonising bliss. I cry out as he punctures me through my orgasm, as my pussy clings onto his cock, as my muscles become so twisted, like a rubber band, they hurt.

‘I’ll let you off this once, little deer. But if you ever come again without screaming my name, I’ll fuck your tight arsehole until you need my cock inside it just to feel normal—’ He loses his words in a groan, and I writhe on the mattress as he angles his hips differently, losing a few beats of his merciless rhythm.

Then he grows inside me, the sensation almost startling as he comes, fucking me while his orgasm rips through his body. He pushes into me harder, seemingly aggressive with his desire to get as deep as possible while hot fluid spills within me, around his shaft, and drips across my thigh.

It’s a beautiful sight.

The moment he loses control.

I never want to forget the way his brows pinch, his mouth parts, the sound growling from him in a primal and feral timbre. I know he said I belong to him. I’m his dark possession. But people lie. Everyone in my life lies. Eventually, they give me up. But I’ll never forget that my body can bring this king of a man immense pleasure, if only for a minute.

He stills, breathing deeply. A mist of sweat coats his neck and forehead, while beneath his shirt, I can still see godly physical potential bursting from his powerful physique.

He withdraws from me, the sensation hollowing me out, striking me with bliss on the withdraw and with pain as the tissue inside me is left quivering and tender. Tucking his still semi-hard cock away, he squats behind me. I can’t even move. When his fingers touch the aching flesh at my lips, I gasp on a whimper.

‘Are you in pain?’

‘A little.’ I lie—it hurts more than a little, but I think he knows that as he strokes me gently. He’s huge. I’m not surprised it hurt. More cum slides from inside me, and I feel it drip from my pussy. My cheeks burn with embarrassment when his fingers slide around in the fluid that left me, a blend of his release and mine, before he smears it over my backside and thigh, painting my skin.

‘So pretty. Don’t shower until I tell you to.’

‘But I’m covered—’

‘In me. You think I somehow forgot such a thing?’ He stands up, slides over me, and scoops me up. Carrying me a few steps, he settles my head on my pillow.

I look up into his blue eyes. ‘You’re leaving, aren’t you?’

‘We are not going to spoon, little deer.’

My mind is dazed. ‘That was like…’ My first time. Can you stay? Please. I stop on the sentence I was going to say, not able to force the pathetic pleas through my lips. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t feel guilt for fucking me and leaving. He’s infallible. My eyes bat slowly, lashes waving like heavy fans, the weighted upper lid wrestling with my will to open them again. I win, meeting his soft blue gaze. ‘Will you tell me what happened with Landon?’

He leans down, forcing me to close my eyes again as he presses his lips to one eyelid. Then the other. ‘Sleep,’ he orders, his tone a rumbling timbre carrying emotion with it.

This time I’m unable to force them open again.

I can feel his hands feed the sheet around my frame.

Hear his heavy footsteps and the sound of the door closing. I tuck my knees up a little, forming a small ball. Slumber drags me out with it.

THE SHEET SLIDES down my body.

I spread my legs. Even in deep, peaceful slumber, I can feel his palms pushing my thighs open. Fluttering my eyes, I instantly meet his. I blink at him, taken aback by the sleek black suit, the smooth, freshly shaven jawline.

He leans up, planting a palm beside my head, to hover over me. Searching eyes roll around my sleepy face, as though he can see through the layers of cells to the feelings I conceal beneath. You left. You left when I needed to be held.

His other hand cups me between my wanton spread thighs, his long middle finger coaxing entry between swollen flesh. A little high-pitched whimper leaves me, and his brows pinch in response.

In the back of my mind, a black spot beckons me to reach for it, a question or event we are meant to be discussing, but the energy around us won’t allow me to.

Snared by his eyes, messages of confusion and intimacy I cannot comprehend gloss mine while his usually dark, hard stare seems to soften. It is a new look, I think. His hand leaves my core, finding my chin and angling it as he studies my lower lip. The small cut in my flesh hums and prickles, but I don’t mind the sensation at all.

He exhales hard. ‘I lost control yesterday.’

‘I don’t want your practised smiles,’ I whisper, wishing he would pull my jaw towards his lips and let me feel their commanding dance.

His eyes meet mine again. ‘And I don’t want yours.’ As he scoops a piece of ice from a glass on the wooden bedside table, plopping the cube in his mouth, his expression shifts to one racketed with hunger.

Then he crawls over me, his strong body moving down to settle between my knees. The man is all action, fully suited for business and yet, I lie lax and mouldable and exposed…

‘No.’ I touch the hand holding my thigh to the mattress. ‘I haven’t showered.’

He ignores me. When he kisses my puffy outer lips, my reservations dissolve and I melt into the sheets on a long moan.

Completely vulnerable.

Completely at his mercy.

Completely safe.

His cold tongue laps up and down my sore, tight lips while the cube he introduces slips between them. Soothing the skin, his tongue and the ice work in unison, building a steady simmer of pleasure just below the surface of my arousal. My muscles unravel to the gentle stimulation.

‘I like this,’ I murmur to the air, closing my eyes.

I arch, lifting my backside inadvertently as he groans his response into my flesh. A sound so primal it stokes the simmering bliss, keeping it perpetual and even. Perfect. Comforting, yet completely carnal.

My body shudders with gratitude as he dives in deep with the cool, strong muscle of his tongue. His mouth is dreamily chaste, kissing me in an almost romantic way that has me swooning and arching and whimpering with sensation.

When the ice melts, he reaches for another cube, until they are all gone. Water and my own arousal coat my lower half, puddles of melted ice collecting in the blanket below my arse.

He licks me diligently.

Sucking my clit so softly.

Until I can’t ride the light simmer of pleasure anymore, and I climax around his gentle attention. The rolling orgasm more subtle, longer, sweeter, a sensation I could crave at all hours of the day and not tire from it.

He sits up, licking his glistening lips. ‘You didn’t say my name.’ He grins devilishly. ‘You know what that means.’

Unwillingly, I float down. ‘What name would I use?’

He smooths my hair down my head. ‘Always, Sir. You are the only one who calls me that, sweet girl.’

I move into his warm hand, liking how he brushes the side of my hair with his palm, his fingers lightly skating through the strands. ‘Even when you’re… inside me?’

He groans, a dark tic forming in the corner of his mouth. ‘Especially, then.’

My cheeks warm. ‘Yes, Sir.’

‘Good girl.’ Lowering his hand, he makes me instantly mourn the way his gentle pats made me feel. I don’t care to analyse it or dissect the feminist perspective. I liked it. I liked it because every part of me felt warm, safe, seen, and I’m not going to deny myself that bliss just because it’s unconventional.

‘And you slept like I told you to,’ he states. ‘You slept half a day and the whole night. I would have taken care of you sooner, but I know how much you needed it. I’m very proud of you for not fighting it.’

I attempt to rise, but he nods to the bed, and I drop back down. ‘I slept through the night?’ That hasn’t happened since… the sight of Landon and Clay talking thrashes through me. ‘And you will thank me when I kill the boy who put this baby inside you while you were too high to consent.’

Landon.

I force my way up and he leans back, allowing me space. His brows draw in, eyes narrow—unimpressed, but I don’t care, quickly asking, ‘What happened yesterday with Landon?’

His jaw tics. ‘Who?’

‘Landon. My brother—’ I say, my voice rising as uncertainty clutches at my vocal cords. If he didn’t choose him over me, if it was a practised smile, then what happened. ‘You spoke. What did he say? What did you say? Why did you drag me away? Why—’

‘Calm down. Ask me one question at a time.’

‘Why would you drag me away like that? I was humiliated,’ I admit, the talons of betrayal banding me. He’s lying to me about something. ‘What did he say about me? What did you say about me?’

Within his eyes, softness dissolves into muted disdain… or is it jealousy? ‘Do I seem like the kind of man who shares well with others?’ His tone is soothing, yet awash with warning. A hint at something dark lurks deep.

I shake my head at myself, staring at the ends of my hair as I coil the length around the tip of my finger. ‘I’ve been searching for answers. I need to know what he said to you.’

Knowing I have said too much, I glance up at him, meeting scrutinising blue eyes. ‘What you need to know is that I dislike hearing your name spoken from that boy’s mouth. And I dislike not having the information myself. You lied to me. How do I protect you if you lie to me? I’m going to need you to explain why you are here.’

‘To give the baby—’

‘Fawn.’ He warns. ‘The truth. Now.’

My admissions play with my tongue, wanting to fill the space between us. Is that what intimacy does? What an orgasm does? Makes you open and honest? The Spanish Inquisition would have gone very differently if they had caught on to this nifty trick. Relenting, I admit, ‘Okay, but I didn’t lie to you… I came here to find my dad because I knew he was in the Mafia. Well, not knew,’ I correct with a sigh. ‘My mum said so, but she was crazy… ‘ I get lost in the story, the order to tell him. ‘I don’t remember the night I got pregnant. Just the next morning… Benji, my foster brother, he’s dead. The leg of the table—’ I swallow thickly. ‘It was through his stomach. The glass top smashed, shards glittering within the fibres of the cream carpet. Blood like a pool around him. I don’t even remember where I was standing or sitting or if I woke up in the bathroom or on the couch. Landon and Jake were hysterical, and it was like I was just plopped into this alternate dimension.’

His eyes darken, sweeping down my body to the small bump and back up to my face. ‘Go on.’

‘I didn’t come here to just give my dad the baby. I mean, I was going to offer him the baby, that’s true. I needed to ask for help with getting a good family for him, at the very least. I didn’t want him to end up in the system—’

‘Like you.’

‘Yeah… like me.’ I exhale hard. ‘My mum never asked for help with me. I wish she did. I refuse to do that to him…’ I shake my head. The concept of the Spanish Inquisition brings with it the main reason I’m here, in this house with a man who always carries a gun on his person and has more henchmen than Gru from Despicable Me has minions. ‘There is another reason, too. Something I thought only a man like him… well, like you, could help me with. I want the truth about what happened to Benji… and to me.’

He listens carefully, his jaw set hard. ‘What did the police have to say about the dead boy?’

I lift my knees up and hug them, the ache between my legs basically gone, but the sting in my heart while remembering the way they dismissed Benji’s death is present and screaming. They treated him like trash. No loss to the world. ‘He slipped,’ I state numbly. ‘They claim he slipped.’ It hurt for a long time, like a fist squeezing my heart. I imagined a future with Benji in those first few weeks after his death. A sweet reverie of a future where he loved me, where we would have raised this baby together… I take a big breath and continue. ‘I begged the police to search the room, look into his murder… I mean, death. They didn’t believe me. My brothers said he slipped. My foster mother said he slipped. We were underage. So, it was a fucking accident. ‘

‘But it wasn’t. You think something else happened, sweet girl?’ He lifts his hand to rub the smooth skin along his strong jaw, a gesture I’ve often seen him do when deep in contemplation. ‘But no one cares.’ His words hurt, however unbelievably true. It is always the truth that hurts most. ‘And what did you expect from Dustin? To torture the boys. To kill the one who raped you.’

That word scores as it enters my ears. ‘It wasn’t rape.’

‘No?’ That pure darkness that lives inside him so contentedly, so in sync, flashes in his eyes. ‘What would you call it then?’

‘I wanted to be with Benji,’ I admit, reaching for the ends of my hair again, working them around my fingers as his body tightens further with each coil. ‘Someone hurt him. I feel it. And… It’s dumb. It’s ridiculous… But I want my first time back. I want some details. Was it slow? Did he kiss me?’

His lips ghost my ear now. Dangerous heat envelopes me as a snarl of words spits from him. ‘I’m going to need you to stop right there, little deer, or we will have a repeat of last night, and your pussy is not ready to take me again the way I want to take you after hearing that… So, it’s in your best interest to keep the romantic language between you and this fucker to a minimum.’ He leans back, his eyes blank and unreadable. ‘Go on.’

A current of warning rushes down my spine. I suck my bottom lip into my mouth, the sting from his teeth reminding me of last night. Of his claim over me. ‘Benji… his room was in the basement. That’s where we were. He has a camera set up down there. I think he was filming us. But when I confronted Landon and Jake the next day, they told me he took it out the day before, but I don’t believe them. I remember while we were watching the movie, in the corner of the box, there was a red flashing light.’

Thinking back on my last day in that house, the day I demanded they show me the recording, I shudder. Blood still stained the carpet, and like dye on a shirt, it seemed to grow over the week, seeping in deeper, expanding in a way it might had his body still been there to feed it.

I clear my throat, all the admissions now like water leaking from a dame, just wanting out. ‘I couldn’t think. I remember my brain stalling, arrowed on that one truth—the recording must be here. I trashed the room,’ I admit, not proud of my temper—my eccentric behaviour. Those arseholes are right. I am—can be—eccentric. ‘So, of course, my foster mother threw me out without a hint of guilt. She’d been waiting for the day I misbehaved, which I’d never done before. The foster board doesn’t like uncommitted custodians, even though I was of age at this time, but she didn’t like me the moment I grew boobs so…’ I laugh without mirth. ‘I wasn’t surprised when she kicked me out for ‘violent tendencies.”

Suddenly, he straightens to his full height. Cutting into my thoughts, he says, ‘I’ll look into this.’

Climbing to my feet, I follow him from the bed. ‘Wait…That’s it? Are you going to get the recording?’

He smooths his pitch-black tie down, his face a thing of emotionless beauty. ‘Yes.’

My heart ping-pongs inside my throat. ‘You believe me, then? That something else happened?’

Clay stares at me through several of my shallow breaths, his eyes studying my face, from my wide, uncertain eyes to my parted mouth. Stepping until his shoes skate along the tips of my toes, forcing me to arch my neck to keep his gaze, he lifts his warm palm to trace my lips with his thumb. ‘I will always believe you.’

And it takes all my willpower to not fling my arms around him. Tears burn around my irises. ‘And you won’t hurt them, though? Will you?’

His hand twitches before dropping from my face. Emotional armour erected around his pristine black suit. He glances down at me through his dark lashes. I want to reach for his jaw and demand his gentleness return, but it’s flittered away after my utterance of not wanting them harmed. ‘I won’t hurt the boys… yet.’

When he steps towards the door, I bolt after him, rounding his authoritative frame until I am in front of him. Halting him with my palms to his warm abdomen, I realise this is another place I haven’t yet touched him. My fingers flex over his shirt where the hardness of muscles beneath act as a formidable wall. ‘Do you promise?’

He puts his hands on the tops of my arms, gently lifting me up and planting my feet on the carpet away from his path. ‘I’m not repeating myself.’