by T. T. Kove
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Bruised
TT Kove
Arctic Circle Press
Bruised © TT Kove
Published by Arctic Circle Press
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission, except for in the purpose of reviews.
This book is a work of fiction and as such all characters and situations are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people, place, or events is coincidental.
Bruised is set in London, UK, and as such uses British English throughout.
First edition June 2017.
Copyright © 2017 by TT Kove
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Contents
About
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Afterword
About the Author
Also by TT Kove
About
Everyone says he’s bad, but to me, he’s been nothing but good.
Everyone says Wynn is bad news, but from the moment he came upon me crying, he's been nothing but good to me. He took me home, comforted me... and he took me to bed. Which I technically shouldn't have done, but the kindness he showed me makes me wish for something I've never had before.
I'm afraid to tell him the truth though like I'm afraid to tell everyone the truth. The whole stipulation of my abusive relationship is to keep it a secret, and no matter how much I want to get away, it's hard to talk about something I've had to keep quiet about for so long.
They say Wynn doesn't have a heart, but I know it's not true. I know Wynn has a big heart, he's just protecting it well—and maybe, just maybe, he can help me out of my unbearable situation before it turns violent.
Chapter 1
“See you tomorrow, Kaz!” Adam lifted a hand in a wave and hurried down the sidewalk towards the tube station before the rain drenched him through.
I watched him go and only when he was out of sight did I sag back against the brick wall behind me, the tears I’d held back all night overflowing. They streamed down my cheeks, mixing with the rain, and I bent over as my body shook with the force of the sobs I tried my best to keep inside.
Eyes closed, teeth clenched, arms wrapped around my middle… it was all I could do to keep myself in check, but it didn’t work. The tears kept coming and my body continued to shake.
A door closing made me freeze—all of me but the tears, anyway, they kept on coming. A pair of black boots entered my line of sight and I slowly lifted my head to stared up at whoever had remained behind after us. I’d thought Adam and I had been the last ones leaving the club after we finished cleaning.
It wasn’t a colleague. It was my boss.
“Kasey?” He eyed me carefully.
I bowed my head quickly, horrified at being caught crying my heart out by my boss. My very scary boss who everyone tip-toed around. “I’m s-so-sorry,” I managed to get out, but I couldn’t for the life of me stop crying. My chest and stomach hurt and it only made it worse, because I couldn’t stop and the pain only added to all the shit.
“What’s wrong?” He was at my side now, looming over me to the point he blocked out most of the rain.
“I d-didn’t g-ge-get in!” That’s what hurt most of all. I’d dreamt of going to the London Contemporary Dance School for years and now I’d had my chance, I’d failed. I had to apply again, wait a year for auditions, and then another year again to start at the school if I did get in.
“School, huh?” he scoffed, and for a second I thought he’d walk past and leave me there—but then his hands cupped around my face, bringing my head up so he could look at me. “It’s not the end of the world, surely?”
It was. I was supposed to go to school, make something of myself, but like I failed everything else, I’d also failed this. “Auditions a-are a y-year in a-ad-advance.” Two years at the most… and what if I failed to get in next year too? That would be yet more years where I wouldn’t be making something of myself.
What would I do? Keep working at the club? A job I was shit at because I was clumsy and always dropped glasses or bottles. I couldn’t do anything right. Dance was the one thing I was good at—but clearly I wasn’t good enough.
He sighed, thumbs gently brushing under my eyes.
It was… nice. No one ever did that for me. Kian hugged me if I cried in front of him, and Silver could do that too… but if I cried in front of Alistair all he’d do was backhand me and tell me to grow up and be a man. I couldn’t go home to him like this, it wouldn’t end well. He had no patience.
“Hey, come on.” One hand slipped from my face and gripped my shoulder instead. He steered me away from the club. “Where do you live?”
“I can’t go home,” I whispered, reaching up to wipe furiously at my eyes.
“Why not?” he asked, frowning down at me.
“I just c-can’t. Not like th-this.” The damn tears wouldn’t stop. And neither would the rain. It was fitting for my mood, but it didn’t make it any better.
“Well, you’re drenched, I can’t just leave you out here to freeze.” He squeezed my shoulders and it felt… safe. “Come with me. I live just around the corner.”
I swallowed heavily. Go with him? To his home? But… I shut off the various scenarios playing through my head, the result of too many horror flicks. He was my boss, he wouldn’t hurt me. He actually seemed worried about me, even if I always made a mess. I wasn’t a good bartender; hell, I wasn’t even half decent.
He whipped out a key to unlock a door, led us into a hall, and then up the stairs. We both trekked water after us, both drenched, but I still couldn’t stop crying, so the cold was the last of my worries.
It seemed he lived on the top floor. I hardly got a look inside his flat when he led me in there, because he didn’t bother turning on the lights as he shoved me into the bathroom.
I blinked as he turned those lights on, trying to get used to the brightness with my sore eyes, but then he threw a towel over my head, effectively blocking all light out.
“Sit.” He pushed me down onto something, likely the toilet seat, and proceeded to gently rub the towel over my hair. I’d styled it nicely before work last night, but it must be a right mess now. “Do you want a shower?”
A hot shower… That would be nice. “There wouldn’t be any point. My clothes are still wet.”
“You can borrow some of mine.” He dropped the towel over my shoulders, rubbing it gently over my neck before he unzipped my jacket. I just sat there, gazing at him in wonder as he took it off me in one swift motion.
Borrow his clothes… He was way bigger than me. Taller, wider, more muscular. I was a runt compared to him. He’d got rid of his own jacket some place and now sat in front of me wearing only a tee. His biceps flexed and he had a full-sleeve tattoo on that arm that flexed with his muscles.
I couldn’t study it in detail, but what I did see was something resembling an eye, a clock, trees maybe? Then he straightened back up and turned to get a bigger towel from under the sink.
“You get in the shower. I’ll find some clothes for you.” With that, he left me alone in the bathroom, the door clicking shut softly after him.
I drew in a shaky breath as I stared at the closed door. At work, everyone seemed almost afraid of Wynn—said he didn’t tolerate any bullshit, that he easily fired people. Why he hadn’t fired me was a mystery, considering how much I messed up, but… He was kind. He hadn’t had to take me home. He didn’t have to lend me his clothes or his shower or anything. But he did.
I undressed slowly, hands shaking a little. Some tears still trickled, but the earlier torrent had stopped. I fumbled with the shower for a bit until I got the temperature of the water just right, then I stepped in and pulled the wide glass door closed.
My eyes closed as I tilted my head up to meet the spray of hot water. It felt nice against my cold skin and it soothed the sadness just a tiny bit. It didn’t disappear, not by a long shot—it never did nowadays—but it sure helped.
I didn’t dare stay in the shower too long, though, in case I outstayed my welcome. I stepped out dripping wet, grabbed the big, fluffy towel he’d discarded on the counter, and wrapped it around me.
Shit, clothes. He hadn’t come into the bathroom before I undressed, and he clearly hadn’t been in while I’d been in the shower either. I shuffled over to the door, cracked it open to see if he was nearby… then spotted the promised clothes on the floor right in front of me.
A shaky breath left me and I scooped them up, quietly shutting the door after me. Why is he so kind to me? There was a T-shirt, joggers, and boxers. All too big on me, but they were better than slipping on my wet clothes. I looked like a little kid drowning in grown-up clothes, but it would have to do.
I hung up the towels, the one he’d used on my hair earlier and the big, fluffy one, then gathered my clothes in my arms and stepped out of the safety of the bathroom to face him.
He was in the open-plan kitchen, pouring himself a glass of Coke. He glanced up, dark eyes locking on me. “You want some?”
“Yes, please.” I licked my lips nervously. “What about my clothes?”
He poured Coke into the second glass—clearly meant for me—and slid it over the counter. “Here you go. I’ll take those.” He came around, took the clothes from me, and went to stuff them in the washer. “I’ll put them on a short programme, then put them in the drier once it’s done.”
I blinked. Washer and drier, that took time. And it was already late.
He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Unless you want to take them home with you?”
I shook my head quickly. I still couldn’t go home. I couldn’t face Alistair like this. Most days I didn’t want to face him at all, but he was my flatmate so I didn’t have a choice.
A crooked grin appeared on his face. “Don’t worry. I don’t expect anything in return.”
My eyes widened in surprise. Did he think I thought…? Then again, if he had expected anything… I wouldn’t be entirely opposed to it. He was handsome, kind… kinder than my own boyfriend. Not that Alistair was my boyfriend, he was quite vehement about us being a couple—at least outside our flat. He wasn’t much of a boyfriend inside it either, where he changed between talking down to me and slapping me around.
I took the glass and emptied half of it in one swallow, thirsty after crying so much earlier. My throat hurt too, for the same reason. The Coke helped a little.
“So what’s got you down?” He was around the counter again now, leaning against it, glass in one hand as he gazed at me. “You’ve been down all night.”
I blinked. Blushed. “You’ve been watching me?” Probably to see how many mistakes I made. How many glasses I managed to break or how many orders I could mix up.
“Yeah.” He didn’t even deny it.
“I’m sorry.” I bowed my head. “I know I shouldn’t bring my problems to work—”
“True. No one should do that. Yet everyone does anyway. It’s the way it is.” He shrugged, sounding like it didn’t matter to him. Maybe it didn’t.
“I had my audition today. I applied last year and the auditions are now for enrolment next September, and… I messed up.” The glass clinked softly as I put it down on the counter. I wrapped both hands around it, squeezing. “So I didn’t get in. Now I have to wait till next year and hope I get in the year after that again. It’s just… so many years.”
“Does it have to be the London Contemporary Dance School?”
He remembered. “Yeah. I want a degree in Contemporary Dance. I’m much better at that than I am ballet, so… yeah, I like it better. And I don’t want to move, because my family’s here.” I would like to move away from Alistair, but I couldn’t afford to live on my own. “The plan was to get in, work for the next year so I could save up some money until school started. But now…” Now I didn’t know what to do.
“Well, you’ve still got a job,” he drawled. “Now you can just save up even more.”
How much longer would I have the job though? I was shit at it. I’d only got it because Adam had vouched for me. I didn’t dare say that out loud to my boss though. That was a sure way to dig my grave. Not to mention he probably knew, if he was usually out and about in the club itself.
I couldn’t afford to lose the job. I couldn’t become dependent on Alistair. He’d probably love it, but I was trying my best to eventually get away from him. Maybe I would have to bite the bullet and slink back to my brother, but… my pride wouldn’t let me. Kian hadn’t liked that I moved out to be with my boyfriend—he and his lover were the only ones who knew about my relationship with Alistair. They liked him, because they didn’t know the truth, but they hadn’t liked me moving in with him.
“There you go, looking sad again.”
My head shot up.
“And there are those wide, startled eyes.” He narrowed his eyes at me.
Sad again? Wide, startled eyes… Had he watched me all night? Or… wasn’t tonight the first night he’d watched me?
He leaned forward a little. “Besides your botched audition today, are you all right?”
I nodded quickly. “I’m fine.” Just peachy.
His eyes narrowed again. “You sure about that? Because to me you usually look like a bundle of high-strung nerves.”
I swallowed audibly.
He discarded his glass and came around the counter to stand in front of me. He tipped my chin up so I had no choice but to gaze up at him. He kept his fingers on my chin, thumb stroking gently.
It made me weak in the knees, as cliché as that sounded. My lips parted ever-so-slightly, breath stuttering the tiniest bit.
He took a step closer, bringing our bodies almost into contact. But then he halted and simply stood there and stared at me.
I licked my lips, nervous and aroused at the same time. His eyes followed my tongue and that’s when I knew for sure that this man… this big, butch, tattooed, handsome man who could probably have everyone he wanted… wanted me. And if that didn’t make my breath stutter in my throat and my heart beat wildly, nothing would.
“Kasey,” he murmured, thumb stroking softly over my bottom lip. Then he closed his eyes and turned his head away. “When I said I didn’t expect anything in return for helping you out, I meant it.” He seemed to steel himself for something, lips pressing tight together, frown deepening. He took a step back, thumb dropping from my lip…
And I stepped forward, right back into his space. “I don’t mind,” I whispered, because damn, he was the best thing to have happened to me in so long. My life was shit, had been for a long time and even more so after today, and I deserved something good for a change.
He was good. He wasn’t forceful with me, didn’t talk to me like I was an idiot, didn’t make my decisions for me, and best of all… he didn’t hurt me.
My cheeks we
re on fire, but I drew from some unknown place inside me and said, more in a whisper than the confidence I’d tried for, “You can kiss me if you want.”
He let out a breath. His lips tilted up on one side, and then… then he bent down and pressed them to mine.
Chapter 2
I gasped, body arching up against him. His strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me up close as he slipped his tongue past my lips.
He’s got a tongue piercing, was my first thought as my own tongue butted against the steel knob, then I ceased thinking at all as pleasure and instinct took over.
He picked me up like I weighed nothing and carried me into his bedroom. There he gently put me down in the middle of his huge bed, all while he kept kissing me. His hands, which had grabbed my arse as he lifted me, now moved up under the baggy T-shirt to encounter my flushed, naked skin.
His mouth left mine to attach to my neck instead and I tilted my head back on a low moan. Very low, as making noise during sex was a big no-no. Or so I’d been told, anyway.
“This okay?” Wynn asked, thumb brushing over my nipple.
“Mmm.” This was more than okay.
“Good.” And with that, he easily slipped the T-shirt off me, then sat up slightly to pull his own off as well.
He was… magnificent, there was no other word for it. Tanned, tattooed, ripped. He wasn’t just toned, he had actual washboard abs. As well as a dark smattering of hair over his chest and down to his trousers.
I was nothing compared to him. I was slim and toned yes because of all the dancing I did, and my skin wasn’t exactly pale—thanks to my mum’s Asian genes—but I didn’t work out regularly like he obviously did. I wasn’t tall or broad or fit. I was a small, slim, femme guy… and if Wynn wanted to, he could crush me.
