Knox (Sexy Bastard #3) (18 page)

“I wasn’t picking a fight. You’d be pissed too if your business partner was planning a whole new venture without even asking you first.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like you’ve been completely open with him, y’know.”

“That’s different. This is a serious financial investment.”

“Right. As opposed to a serious relationship,” she snaps.

Shit
. “That’s not what I meant, Shelbs.”

“Yeah, well, it’s what you said. Look, I’m sorry, I can’t keep doing this anymore. Sneaking around. It’s becoming more and more obvious that you don’t really see me as a serious option, despite what you keep saying. Talk is easy. Action is harder. The fact that you’re not willing to bring this out into the open . . .” She trails off for a moment, and when I glance back at her, her eyes are blurred with tears. It hurts at my chest, watching her like that.

Knowing I’m the reason she’s upset.

“I’m going to tell him, Shelby. I promise. Just let me settle in first. I just got back to town, I’ve been away for almost two months, and now the regular season is starting in a week. I got to come home a week early to prep for opening day, but give me a moment to at least unpack.”

“It’s always something,” she interrupts. “There’s always going to be some excuse or another.”

“I’ll tell him, Shelby. I just have to find the right time. There is too much riding on this conversation for it to be fast and hazy.”

But she’s already shaking her head. “I can’t keep lying to my brother. If you want to see me again anywhere other than the Library or a backyard barbecue, come clean. So you just let me know when you can fit that into your demanding baseball schedule.”

At that moment, Ruby appears with her purse slung over her shoulder.
Shit
. How much did she hear?

But she’s watching us without a trace of surprise on her face. “You ready, Shelby?” she calls out, her voice way too carefully even and steady. She doesn’t say a thing to me.

She knows.

I glance from her to Shelby and back again. Ah. So that’s how it is. “At least I wouldn’t have told anyone without asking you first,” I say under my breath, so only Shelby can hear me. Then I’m gone, storming out of Ryder’s place, down to my car. Welcome home, indeed.

M
y house is only
twenty minutes away. But an hour later, I’m still driving around in circles.

I get on I-75 so I can drive in a straight line for a while.

I shift into fifth, the odometer creeping into the 80s as I pass what’s left of the city’s late-night traffic.

Something about risky behavior seems to give me the jolt of clarity I’m looking for.

Shelby’s right. If this thing between us is real, we shouldn’t be hiding.

I cross four lanes of traffic in a hurry and get the fuck off the freeway.

N
o one will tell
you that breakup whiskey is the smoothest whiskey. But it sure does go down easy. If you can just get it past the catch in your throat, you’re home free.

I feel so fucking naive.

The worst part is, I should have known better. Of all people, I know what athletes are like. Hell, I bet if I’d asked Jackson upfront, he would’ve had a million reasons for me not to hook up with Knox. Number one being guy cannot fucking commit.

Hey Shelby, bright idea: Why don’t you try screwing a famous athlete who isn’t one of your brother’s best friends?

Even better: Why don’t you try
not
screwing a famous athlete at all?

These guys can get any woman they want, and it makes them cocky, arrogant pricks. Why bother committing to an awesome woman when you can have twenty of them in the nearest bar dropping their panties in under ten seconds?

The worst part is, I don’t even have ice cream in my freezer. And Ruby had to meet up with her sexy trainer hookup, so she can’t console me or give me a ride to the nearest place I can find donuts.

I dig out some sweats and kick off my shoes before collapsing onto the couch. The couch that we once desecrated. I’m not sure I’ll ever view couches quite the same way after the number of them we fucked across.

Ugh.
Stop thinking about him.

Like it’s that simple.

I give up on being able to concentrate on TV or anything else tonight. When I head to bed, I bring the bottle with me. At least it won’t abandon me.

I
have
no idea how much time has passed. My ceiling hasn’t changed colors yet, so I guess it’s not quite dawn. Feels like it ought to be, the way time has crawled all night.

My thoughts won’t stop running in circles, and my traitorous senses keep sucking me back into vivid memories of Knox—his hands on my skin, his tongue in my mouth, his cock buried deep inside me, the rush of sensations when we come at the same time, both of us gasping the other one’s name . . . It’s like my body and brain have been permanently seared with the imprint of his touch.

Only now the fantasies that got me through his absence during training season are an all-too-painful reminder of what I’m missing.

Getting over him is going to be torture.

I can still hear Ruby’s voice as I climbed out of her car, my eyes blurry from exhaustion and tears.
Give him time,
she said.
He’ll come around, you’ll see.

Easy for her to say.

Sigh. Right. Sleep is not happening. I sit up, about to reach for the bottle again, when my doorbell rings.

In a few taps, I pull the video monitor and it comes up on my phone and my heart leaps into my throat.

Knox, standing in my entryway. Running his hand through his hair as he paces back and forth, his shirt riding up just enough to hint at the muscular V down the front of his torso.

He shakes out both arms like a pitcher warming up, then rings my bell again.

Wordlessly, I buzz him up.

“
S
helby
.”

My heart stops when he says my name. My heart does that every time I hear his voice, to be honest, especially when it’s been a long time since I heard him sound quite so heavy and serious. But suddenly I’m afraid to face him. Afraid of what’s coming next. This will be it. The breakup. Officially telling me it’s over, because at least he knows he owes me that much.

I turn away and head to the kitchen table before Knox has a chance to say anything else. I can’t bear to let him see how much this is hurting me.

He follows me to the table, but he doesn’t sit. His hand comes to rest gently on my shoulder, and I wince internally at his touch. Mostly because it still feels so fucking good. Warm and reassuring and strong. It makes me want to spin around and wrap my arms around him.

Not tonight. Not after what’s happened.

“Shelby—I’m sorry.”

I swallow hard, but don’t reply.

“I haven’t been fair to you. Secrecy isn’t good enough. You’re worth more than that, and I want to prove it to you.”

My heart starts to beat again, a little faster than before.

His hand tightens slightly on my shoulder. “I’m sorry I freaked out about Ruby, too. Of course I’m glad you told her. It’s not fair to ask you to shoulder this whole thing alone. You shouldn’t have to bear it at all. And you’re right, there will never be a perfect time to tell Jackson. There will never be a right time for us.”

That last part hits me like a punch in the gut.
There will never be a right time for us
. No Shelby and Knox. Not now, not ever.

And the worst part is, he’s right.

This whole thing was a giant mistake. Maybe the biggest one I’ve ever made in my life.

I swallow the lump in my throat and brush his hand from my shoulder. “Knox, you don’t have to sugarcoat it. If this is where the road ends for us, then fine. I get it.”

I pull out my chair and head to the front door. The least he can do is leave me alone to lick my wounds in peace.

“Whoa, Shelby—that’s not . . . ”

I cut him off before he can go on. “I don’t need to hear more, Knox. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” This time I meet his eyes, even though there are tears shining in them, because he should have to look me in the eye for this.

His face crumples. “Shelby, that’s not what I meant. You misunderstood me. What I mean is, there’s never going to be a right time to tell Jackson . . . ”

Yeah, I fucking get it.

“So we should just suck it up and tell him now.”

Oh.

Maybe I don’t get it. I blink a few times, disoriented. “Tell Jackson . . . everything?”

“Yeah. We tell him. Or I’ll tell him if you want it to be me alone. Next time I see him. Hell, tomorrow. Tonight, even, I’ll call him right now.” He’s pulling out his phone, but I close my fist over his hand, stilling his fingers on the screen. Our eyes meet, and I let myself fall into that gaze of his, so deep and sincere. “Shelby, I don’t want to sneak around anymore.”

Another hard swallow. Why are there suddenly so many lumps in my throat? Oh, right, talking. That seems hard. I nod at him, and Knox takes my face in his hands, tilting me up toward him. He kisses me gently on the mouth, our breaths mingling, his hands warm on my skin, his thumbs toying with the corners of my lips as we deepen the kiss, fall into each other.

A flood of warmth melts through me and I feel the knot in my stomach start to unravel, thread by thread, as I draw back to look up into his eyes. “Are . . . are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He slides his hands down to my lower back. “I’m sure as shit.”

Our foreheads meet and we stand still for a moment. I wrap my hands around his neck, taking comfort in the solid reality of him. “Jesus, Knox,” I sigh. “You really know how to keep a girl on her toes.”

“Can I make it up to you?” He trails a finger under my chin, tilting my head to one side as he trails kisses along my jawline.

I laugh into his shoulder and run my fingers through his hair. “I think you’ll find some way.”

Knox slips a hand down the back of my sweats and gives my ass a good long squeeze. Holy crap, does it feel good to be handled by him. He follows that up with a deep, slow kiss that sends tingling jolts of electricity coursing through my limbs, careening down into my core. His hips dig into mine, and I can feel his cock press into my stomach, tangible evidence of his need. I make him feel that way. It’s intoxicating, having this power over a guy like him.

“I could never walk away from this,” he murmurs against my ear before burying his head in my neck, nicking at my earlobe with his teeth and then taking it in his warm, wet mouth. I moan deep in my throat, reaching under his shirt to feel the rippling smoothness of his torso, his muscle and mass so alive beneath his warm skin. He parts his lips, flicking at my earlobe with his tongue, and my knees go weak.

Before I can react, his hands are at my ass again, lifting me up and against him, holding me tight against his body as he starts to walk slowly toward the bedroom. I wrap my thighs around his waist, the hard press of his cock against my core driving me crazy as we shuffle across the living room. I lean in to nip at his neck, rather harder than necessary, and I’m rewarded with a muffled groan from him.

At the doorway to the bedroom, he pauses. “Whiskey?” he asks, a barely contained laugh in his tone.

“It was a rough night,” I admit, still clinging to him in midair.

He eases me down onto the bed and gazes at me, a whole ocean of emotion in his eyes. Sorrow, desire, regret. But he settles on mischief. “How can I make it up to you?”

I tilt my head, glancing between the bottle and him. “Well. If you must know.” I lower my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve never done a body shot.”

His eyebrows rise. “That so?” His hand drifts toward the whiskey as I nod. “Well. Your wish is my command.”

In a moment, he whisks off his shirt. For a moment I’m distracted all over again by Knox’s half-naked body. Dear god, that man is ripped. Even more so now, after two months of solid training. His abs ripple as he leans back onto my carpet, bringing the bottle with him.

I don’t wait for him to pour first. I’m already kissing him, licking my way across his chest, his stomach, every inch I can reach. He splashes a shot of whiskey into his belly button, and I glance up at him with a grin as I lean down to lap at the liquor with my tongue. He never takes his eyes from me, his cock straining hard in his jeans as he savors the view.

I love when he watches me.

I suck up the last of the alcohol, and nip at his stomach lightly.

He laughs. “Refill?”

I shake my head, pulling off my own shirt. “Your turn.”

His tongue felt great toying with my ear, but it feels even better lapping across my stomach, and then licking at the cool liquid I pour into my own navel. I let my head fall back onto the carpet as he lavishes me with his tongue, trailing up to my nipple, pouring himself a dribble of whiskey that cascades down my breast until he catches it with a tongue. Then he sucks my nipple into his mouth, and I lose track of the whiskey bottle, lost in the sparking sensation instead, my back arching with need.

He pulls away, and I reach for him, not wanting the contact to end. But he sits back, out of reach for a moment, and gazes at me with an unreadable expression in his eyes. “God, Shelby. You’re beautiful.”

I shiver under the intoxicating power of his glance, pinned by the force field of his gaze. Without even touching me, he covers my body with thousands of pinpricks, a shifting blanket of sensation that washes over the surface of my body and passes right through to the deepest parts of me.

Knox slides my pants down my legs and leans over me.

“Hey,” I say, my voice blurry with desire. “You’ve got too many clothes on.”

I sit up and undo his jeans. I’m hungry for his body. I want every inch of him pressed against every inch of me, totally naked, bared to each other. I run my hands over his strong forearms and biceps, our tongues feverishly melting into each other.

He lays me back along the floor and kicks off his own jeans, before tracing his hands over me, from my breasts to my waist to my hips, around to squeeze my ass hard. “Knox,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, babe?”

“I’m going to need you to fuck me soon.”

“Mmmmm.” He smirks. “We’ll just have to see about that.”

A girl can’t always get what she wants. But sometimes what she wants isn’t what she really needs.

Knox draws a straight line down my sternum with his tongue. He squeezes my breasts and tweaks my nipples with his thumbs until the blood rushes to my head and I start seeing stars. I’m flooded with so much sensation it seems impossible that I could handle more. But his mouth has other ideas, already moving down my stomach. My muscles twitch, my body writhing with anticipation at what’s coming next.

Knox wordlessly slides an elbow under each of my knees, splaying me apart so that I’m fully exposed. He looks up at me, his eyes glinting in the dark. I reach down and take his hand as he bends down and smothers my pussy with his mouth.

I buck and moan under his attentions, bracing my feet against on his shoulders. Every movement of his tongue sends a wave of pleasure coursing through me—the long, luscious strokes that bring me to the edge of a precipice, the gathering of his mouth around my clit that threatens to send me over. I hold his hand and I don’t let go. I’m contracting, clenching around the focal point of his warm, wet mouth, pulsating with the rhythm he’s inflicting on me. The pulses begin to build into a spasm. They build and build until I can no longer hold back. And I don’t need to hold back anymore. As I come I call out his name, my eyes wet with tears. He holds me in his arms and lays his head on my stomach while I quiver, a mass of nerves and tissue still reeling with the aftershocks of pleasure.

My body slowly comes to a still point, filling up with a warm, happy glow that starts between my legs and spreads all the way from my toes to the top of my head. I feel so full.

Knox’s arms are wrapped tightly around me, neither of us speaking, our bodies pressed together closer than we’ve ever been. He picks me up off the floor and puts us to bed. We drift off to sleep in each other’s arms.

W
e oversleep
, too lost in each other’s bodies to stir at my first alarm. Or my fourth one. It’s the weekend, but I’m usually up by 9 a.m. anyway, off on a whole series of errands. Not today. Today is the day we finally tell Jackson. That’s the only thing on our calendar, the only thing I’m procrastinating, and I should be anxious to get it over with. But somehow, I’m not quite ready for this moment to be over. I stretch my arms over my head and nuzzle in closer to Knox, my head resting on his chest. God, he smells amazing. Manly and heady, all him right now, no aftershave or cologne masking his delicious, salty, masculine scent.

“Morning, slugger.” His hand rests on the curve of my lower back.

My stomach growls in response, and we both laugh. “Morning,” I reply.