“Knight?”

“Jesus, f**k,” he repeated.

“Did I… was that okay?”

He buried his face in my neck and groaned, “Jesus, f**k. Fuck me. Fuck me.”

I didn’t know what to make of this.

“Knight?” I called.

His head came up.

“Yes,” he clipped. “Yes, Anya, baby, f**k me, baby. Yes, that was f**kin’ okay. That was f**kin’ beautiful what you gave me.”

It was. He believed that. What I gave him meant something to him.

It meant a lot.

Tears filled my eyes.

“Knight,” I whispered.

“Fuck me,” he whispered back, staring at me, his eyes burning because his heart was beating there.

God.

Beautiful.

I smiled, lifted my head and, lips to his, I whispered, “I’m kinda not done.”

“Fuck me,” he repeated and I smiled bigger.

“But you’ll need to get off me.”

I watched his eyes close slowly and then I watched as emotion washed over his features.

And I did this mesmerized.

God.

Beautiful.

Then he touched his mouth to mine, slid out and got off me, pulling me up with him. He held me close with an arm around my waist as I got steady on my feet.

Then when I shot him a grin, he muttered, “Nightie, babe, desk.”

So that was the soft whoosh.

My man, even pissed, he always remembered to take care of me.

My grin got bigger.

Then I went to the desk and pulled the red, silk and lace short nightie with the high slits up my sides that Knight bought for me over my head. I shot him another grin as I walked out to see he was still standing at the couch, he’d adjusted his trousers and his eyes were on me.

The minute I knew he lost sight of me, I moved fast.

I had it all planned and I put it in motion quickly. I cleaned up and took my shoes off. Then I grabbed the bag of wrapped presents. Then I went to where I’d hidden the store bought, fancy decorated cake with the candles and lighter. I shoved the candles in and lit them. Then balancing the cake in both hands with the bag of presents dangling, I went back to his study.

Knight was sitting, ass to the desk where I’d spent a memorable amount of time, legs stretched out in front of him, eyes to his crossed feet, hands at his sides, fingers curled around the desk’s edge but his head came up when I walked in carrying the cake.

His eyes went to the cake then to me and instantly his face got soft and his eyes warm but surprised and definitely pleased.

Totally beautiful.

“Jesus, baby,” he whispered as I walked to him.

I stopped in front of him.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

His eyes stayed locked to mine.

“Anya.”

I waited. He said no more.

“Make a wish and blow out your candles, honey,” I whispered.

His body didn’t move and neither did his eyes.

“Make a wish, Knight.”

His eyes then moved, roaming my face, down my body, the cake, more of me then back to my eyes.

“Honey, the candles are gonna burn out,” I prompted on a grin.

“Let ‘em,” he replied. “Got nothin’ I want. Everything I want is standing right in front of me.”

Oh.

My.

God.

My nose stung and my eyes filled with tears.

“Please,” I begged softly, “blow out the candles, Knight.”

He held my eyes. One tear slid out my left, followed by another on my right.

Then he bent forward and blew out the candles.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He grabbed the cake and plopped it on his desk. Then he pulled the bag out of my hand and tossed it on one of the two chairs angled at the front of it. Then he yanked me between his legs, in his arms, doing it roughly, holding me tight, one arm around my waist, one hand in my hair, his mouth crushed down on mine and he plundered it.

I melted into him, my arms snaking around him and I let him.

He let my lips go, my head moved back an inch and his hand slid around to cup my jaw, his thumb moving through the wet left by the tear.

“Don’t cry for me, Anya, don’t ever cry for me,” he murmured.

“Is that an order?” I teased and his eyes went from his thumb to mine.

“Yes.”

My arms slid from around him so my hands could curl around his neck and I pressed up so I could touch my forehead to his.

“Lemon drops,” he murmured and I smiled.

He remembered.

God, I loved this man.

“Praise God for faulty, cheap cell phones,” I muttered. Knight’s body gave a short jerk then both his arms closed around me hard as he burst out laughing.

* * * * *

“So which present do you like best?”

I was fishing for information, lying in bed in my red nightie next to and mostly on Knight, up on a forearm in his chest, smiling into his face.

“Uh… seriously? You askin’ that shit?”

“Scary, crazy, hot punishment and resulting scary, crazy, hot, hard f**king not included,” I amended my question and Knight’s arm curled around my waist got tight as he chuckled.

Then he answered, “The Black Sabbath tee.”

I tipped my head to the side and asked, “Not the biography on Beethoven?”

“Babe, got no time to read.”

“But you like his music.”

“What?”

“It was playing in your office when you, um… carried me in that first time.”

He studied me but I could tell he was harking back then his face got soft and he asked quietly, “You remember that?”

I felt my face get soft too and I whispered, “I remember everything.”

His hand slid up my side even as his arm got tight again. He murmured, “Baby.” I dropped closer and he finished, “But that was Bach.”

It was me who blinked then I giggled and asked, “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, whatever,” I muttered then offered, “If you don’t read, I will. Out loud. In bed. To you.” I grinned. “Naked.”

He grinned back and remarked, “Bet that’ll make Beethoven interesting.”

“I read the jacket cover. He’s already interesting. Or he was.”

“You can do it, babe, but you do it naked, I won’t hear a f**kin’ word no matter how interesting.”