Page 82 of Knox

Knox guided me inside, arm still slung around my waist like he expected me to disappear if he let go. We booked an expensive room—thank fuck not the honeymoon suite—and bought a bottle of Prosecco from the lobby bar to take up.

But as we got in the elevator to take us up to the tenth floor, Knox went quiet. Something was wrong.

I followed him down the hall to our room. The hall smelled like old, expensive wallpaper and vacuumed floors.

It was a complete flip of his usual self. What was he thinking? What was he feeling? Despite the kinks, I truly believed the meeting went well—as well as it could, of course, with so much distrust, but it was still progress. If I could sense that, then shouldn’t Knox? I figured he would be at least cautiously optimistic.

Knox used the key card to enter a nice, dimly lit room that smelled like clean laundry. It was far nicer than the one we just stayed at. And the nicest place I would sleep in in months. Before yesterday’s hotel, it was Knox’s trailer. Before that was the warehouse, and that had been the Wolverine’s base for a hell of a long time. Before that had been the luxury I was used to.

Now that was all gone.

Good fucking riddance.

Knox dropped the duffel bag of stuff he’d brought at the foot of the bed. Then he sat on the edge of it, flattening the goose down comforter, and scrubbed his face with his hands like he was an overworked dad coming home from the office to screaming kids and a deadbeat wife.

I stalked over. I wasn’t letting him wallow in pity. It was embarrassing. But I could be nice about it.

I pushed his knees outward to stand between his legs. “You okay?”

The answer was obviously no. Knox’s shoulders sagged briefly, but then they were broad and straight, and he nodded. But he didn’t look up at me or even touch me.

I snorted. “I know a brush-off when I see one, you idiot. You don’t want to talk? Fine. Truth be told, neither do I. We know it’s not my strong suit and never will be. But we have to survive the next two days, Nate.”

Knox lifted his head to me. His expression was mostly blank, like he wanted to feel but couldn’t bring himself to do so. At least he tipped his head into my hand when I rested it on his uninjured cheek.

“Two days,” I said softly. “Then we can fall apart. Until then? Chin the fuck up.”

That coaxed a quick smirk. His hands rested on my hips with a light squeeze. “A pep talk if I’ve ever heard one.”

I leaned forward to press my lips to his. He moaned when I bit his lower lip, then winced when I held it between my teeth, pulling just enough to entice pain.

“Fuck, baby,” he growled, trying to escape the trap.

I released him and stepped out of reach. Knox dabbed his lip, checking for blood. “I’m not letting you feel sorry for yourself. If you won’t let me, I won’t let you.”

I crossed my arms. “Now. You got this expensive room because you think Bates won’t go looking for us in a luxury suite like this.”

Knox’s brows flicked up, impressed.

“You forget who I am already?” I asked teasingly. “So we should take advantage of that. I saw a big-ass soaker tub in the bathroom. I intend to use it.”

Knox leaned forward and reached for me, but I took another step out of reach. His jaw clenched. “Get over here, woman,” he growled.

“Nope.”

I flipped my hair over my shoulder and walked to the bathroom, swaying my hips in a way I knew would make his cock go hard immediately. He growled my name in warning but didn’t follow me yet.

I went into the bathroom and flicked on the light. It was decorated beautifully. I turned on the faucet to the tub—easily big enough to accommodate two people and their desire to fuck each other’s brains out while getting a nice bubble bath in. The sound of the running water was oddly calming. I found a bottle of lavender soap on the counter.

“In this goes,” I muttered as I unscrewed the lid and dumped half the bottle into the steaming water. “Fuck knows we need stress relief.”

I turned to the mirror—the flannel and jeans I’d already gotten used to felt out of place in this hotel. But that didn’t matter. I started to unbutton the shirt one button at a time.

A throat cleared in the doorway. I looked up.

Knox was leaning against the frame, huge arms crossed, his expression mock offended. “Excuse me, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Undressing.”

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