Free Under His Skin (For His Pleasure, Book 20) by Kelly Favor

hands.”
    “And your father put you in the ring with
him, hoping you’d lose.”
    Easton laughed.   “You obviously didn’t grow up with a
father like mine, or you wouldn’t sound so shocked.”
    “What kind of parent would intentionally
put their child in harm’s way like that?”
    Easton’s jaw worked, as if her comment
had put him off in some way.   She
realized that perhaps she’d overstepped her bounds, but the idea of Easton’s
father doing that to him had disgusted her.
    “Anyway,” he said, continuing on with his
story, “we got in the ring and the guy tried to kill me.   I’d never been hit that hard in my life—before
or since.   My ears rang for weeks
afterward, I had terrible headaches, and I had trouble sleeping for a long time.”
    “My stomach’s turning,” she said, shaking
her head.
    “But in the end, I knocked him out, put
him in the hospital,” Easton told her.   As he said it, it was like he was remembering the war he’d been through,
and his eyes had gone cold and flinty.   “I knocked him out cold and then I turned and stared my Dad down.   He never said another word about my
kickboxing after that.”
    The food had gone cold and something warm
had definitively left the room, Kennedy thought.   It was like a ghost had entered the
place.   Easton’s entire demeanor had
shifted, and now she regretted bringing the subject up in the first place.  
    Why hadn’t she just left well enough
alone?
    Easton got up and began clearing the
table.   Kennedy stood and helped
him, carrying her plate to the sink, trying to get his attention as she
walked.   She tried to catch his eye
and perhaps exchange a smile, a word, something.   But Easton was distant and quiet,
seemingly lost in thought and perhaps bad memories.
    They cleaned up in relative silence, and
when the dishes and pots and pans were piled into the sink, Kennedy turned on
the water.
    “What are you doing?” Easton asked her.
    “I thought I’d wash the dishes.   You cooked the meal, it’s the least I
can do.”
    Easton stood for a moment behind her, as
if he wanted to say something important.   She turned her head to look at him, hoping against hope that he would
relent and tell her what was wrong.
    “Okay,” he said, finally.   “I appreciate it.”  
    Kennedy smiled at him but he didn’t
return the smile.   He just turned
and left the room, and she heard his footsteps on the stairs going up to the
next floor.
    She suddenly felt as though she wanted to
cry, but it wasn’t as if anything terrible had happened.   One moment they’d been discussing his
life, the next she was shut out again, the wall was up higher than ever.
    And what about the sex?   What about the magnificent way he’d
loved her earlier?   Had that been
just another brief interlude?  
    Easton was moody, mercurial and
unpredictable.   She just couldn’t
understand why he’d changed and gotten so distant yet again.   Kennedy continued to replay their dinner
conversation as she cleaned the dishes and then loaded the dishwasher.
    I
never should have criticized his father.   He was finally opening up and I had to give my big fat opinion.
    She shook her head, as she washed her
hands and toweled them off.   The
dishwasher was running and the kitchen was clean.
    Kennedy looked around, wondering what she
was supposed to do next.   Where had
Easton gone?
    Slowly, tentatively, she walked to the
stairs.   “Easton?” she called out,
but it was too soft.   She called his
name louder.
    No answer.  
    Kennedy’s stomach was flipping uneasily,
and the sense that things had taken a wrong turn was growing as she started up
the stairs.   Each creak as her foot
pressed down was like something out of a horror movie.
    At the top of the stairs, she came to
hallway, and looking in both directions, she wasn’t sure which way to go.   She turned left and walked to the end,
knocking on the door.  
    No answer.  
    Slowly, Kennedy reached out and