Page 31 of Knox

Damn it, Knox was handsome. I refused to let the fact sink in. Deliciously handsome, regrettably. Who cared if it was the tequila talking? I was perfectly sober at the poker den. He wasn’t a GQ model with that crooked-bridge nose, as if it had been broken. It wouldn’t be surprising considering what little I knew about him. I did know that childhoods as brutal as ours led to troubled teenagers. There was a great chance he’d have found himself in juvenile detention.

And that stubbled jaw? Fuck. What would it feel like scraping over my skin? What would his hair feel like through my fingers? Honestly, I didn’t want to do that. It was still as oily as a ‘60s greaser.

His lips, though?

No. I had to resist. I wasn’t some floozy. But I wanted relief.

When I caved in, I forgot everything. Everything except Knox.

I surged forward and crashed my mouth into his. It wasn’t soft or gentle. It was teeth and heat and frenzy. It was escapism at its best.

I kissed him like I wanted to hurt him, and maybe I did. Maybe I wanted to bruise him the way everything in my life bruised me.

It wasn’t hard considering we were blooming with bruises already.

The kiss hurt. We both had busted lips. I didn’t give a damn. Knox grunted in pain but didn’t pull away. He didn’t drop me, either, when I wrapped my legs around his waist, catching the underside of my thighs. He lifted me, hands under my ass. They supported my weight with ease. Fuck, his fingers pressing into my flesh felt so good.

The kiss was ravenous. Messy. Not good but also great because everything was great when you were drunk and not dead.

Even though I said I wouldn’t, I dragged my hands up the back of his neck, threading my fingers in the tangle of his hair. He groaned into my mouth. It sent a shiver up my spine. I nipped at his lower lip, wanting to hear the noise again. This time, it was more of a growl, a warning, but it only made my legs wrap tighter around him.

I didn’t let up as he backed us into the side of the trailer. Something clattered when he kicked it, but neither of us stopped. My back pressed against the cool metal. Knox trapped me there, kissing me like he meant it. First on my mouth, then my jaw, then back to my lips like he couldn’t decide where to kiss me first. My whole body ached. It was more than just the brutality I’d endured in that warehouse office. This was a throbbing heat that only Knox could douse. I wanted more. Needed more. I needed to shut my mind off and get lost in this—in him.

“You taste like blood,” Knox said between kisses, voice low and as rough as gravel. “It’s gross as hell.”

“Then stop,” I growled back breathlessly. “I dare you.”

Knox pushed me against the trailer. It was cold between my shoulder blades. I gasped, my eyes flying open. His eyes were wild with desire. I could see that even in the dark. I could feel his want in the way he held me.

My hands slid down his shoulders, slow, torturous. Knox’s brows drew together, and he groaned again. I felt a flare of satisfaction bloom in my chest. The only thing that felt better than a man inside me was knowing I had power over the man.

But Knox wasn’t a pushover. He felt the power shift. His brows lowered, and the look in his eyes made me second-guess ever thinking I could control him. I gasped when he bounced me in his hands, like he was adjusting his grip but as if showing all it would take to drop me on my ass and forget this whole thing.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders in a clear, Don’t you dare gesture. I matched him glare for glare, daring him to cut me off. I knew he wanted me just as much as I wanted him. And as soon as he carried me into the trailer, that would be proven.

“Take me,” I rasped fiercely. To encourage him, I rolled my hips against his. Knox’s eyes flashed. “Right here, right now.”

A wicked grin spread across his face like a challenge. “Why should I?”

“Because—”

Knox cut me off when his lips ghosted over my throat. He scraped his teeth over the sensitive skin, then soothed it with a slow swipe of his tongue. I wanted to fall apart. But that made my legs tighten around his hips, the heat in my core hotter, tighter.

“Fuck me, Knox,” I hissed, dragging my lips across his cheekbone. “Just do it. Make me come. Make me?—”

“Not tonight.”

I stilled.

After all that? Is he kidding?

Knox was still nipping at me, cute little kisses to wind down the intensity. I felt him start to set me down. I clung tighter, getting angry.

My life was burning down. It had been for almost a year, and I had barely noticed—or at least, I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it. My father, whom I thought would protect me until I one day ascended to the presidency of the Wolverines, was going mad with power and desperation. It was a terribly naïve dream and I was reaping the fucking consequences. I was on the run for my life.

On top of that, I was kissing my sworn enemy and literally the last person on the planet I had business kissing. Let alone fucking.

I wanted a fucking escape. And I’ll be damned if I didn’t get what I wanted.

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