Page 53 of Quarantine Crush
I blow out a shaky breath and give him a nervous smile. “Thanks.”
I close the case to my iPad and put my empty plate on top of it, stacking everything so I can carry it all into the house in one trip. I struggle to open the sliding glass door while juggling the remnants of my failed date, but suddenly Knox is there, pulling it open.
My pulse races at his nearness, and I glance up at him through my lashes. His jaw ticks, and I notice that his cheek is slightly red from where I slapped him. I cringe, my own cheeks heating in embarrassment. I can’t believe I did that. I bite my lip to stop myself from vomiting up all the words that are climbing up my tongue and cross to the kitchen to deposit my dishes.
Knox trails after me wordlessly, but I refuse to be the one to break first. Instead, I busy myself with washing the dishes as my mind races. I’d heard him tell Nelle he loved her. Hadn’t I? My teeth worry my bottom lip as I replay the conversation in my head. By the time I’m finished, I’m still not sure if I jumped to the wrong conclusion about her. I wipe my hands on a towel and glance up to find Knox leaning against the doorway.
“You done stalling?” he asks with a quirked brow.
My spine straightens, and I level him with my best glare. “Are you ready to tell me the truth?”
“What the hell does that even mean?”
“I heard you on the phone with Nelle,” I say, pushing past him. “You told her you loved her. So don’t try to tell me you don’t have a girlfriend.”
Knox grabs my arm, stopping me and turning me to face him, forcing a standoff in the living room. “Nelle is my assistant. She helped close an important deal, and I was grateful. I don’t know what you think you heard, but it definitely wasn’t me making a pass at her. Pretty sure my mate, Charlie, would have my head if that were the case–seeing as how she’s his fiancé.”
I stare up at him, my mouth dropping open in surprise. The only sound is our labored breathing.
“Well,” he prompts.
“Well, that changes things,” I breathe before launching myself into his arms.
The moment our lips touch, I know there’s no turning back. Not tonight. Our tongues clash as Knox lifts me, his hands cupping my ass. I wrap my legs around his waist, my dress riding higher, and he groans into my mouth.
“This dress is gonna be the fucking death of me,” he says, pulling his mouth away to pepper kisses across my cheek and down my neck.
“You haven’t even seen the best part,” I pant as Knox stumbles down the hallway and backs me against the wall outside my bedroom door. The chill of the wall contrasts with the heat pouring off him, making my nipples peak in response.
“Show me,” Knox says, his eyes hungry.
I disentangle my hands from his hair and slip my arms between our bodies. With a quick tug of a string on each shoulder, the bows that were holding my dress up fall away, leaving me bare.
“Fuck,” Knox groans. His hand closes over my breast, and he ducks his head, pulling one peak into his mouth. My head falls back against the wall with a thud as my hands dive back into his hair, holding him to me like my life depends on it. And at this very moment, it feels like it does.
Knox licks a path to my other breast, and wetness pools in my center. The need to feel his skin against mine, feel the rough hairs of his chest brushing against my sensitive flesh, hits me hard. My fingers search out the bottom of his shirt, and I pull at the fabric, desperate to erase the barrier between us.
Knox senses my desire and pins me against the wall more firmly with his hips before reaching back with one hand and pulling his shirt off over his head. The feel of his hard length against the thin fabric of my panties has me squirming, desperate for relief.
“God, you feel so good.” Knox’s breath is hot against my ear. The sensation of it–of him–merely makes me writhe harder against the pressure building in my core.
All along, I thought I knew what it felt like to want Knox Jacobs. Thought I knew what it would feel like to finally be wanted by him. But now that we’re here? Now, I need him like I need air to breathe. Maybe more.
When his mouth finds mine again, I don’t hold back. My hands tangle in his hair, grip his neck, slide down his chest and over his abs. When my fingers brush the waistband of his shorts, he shudders.
The power I feel at knowing he wants me is exhilarating.
A low groan sounds from his throat and he grabs me, hauling me off the wall and into my bedroom. He tosses me onto the bed with a rough, haphazard movement. When I land, I sit up on my elbows, drinking in the sight of him shirtless and hard and a little desperate looking.
For me. Finally.
Very deliberately, his hands move to the waistband of his shorts. I bite my lip, waiting, my chest heaving with shallow breaths. But then he pauses. My eyes crash back to his, and his mouth lifts in a crooked smirk.
“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to make me come?” I ask, emboldened by the fact that he looks as impatient as I do.
“I could do both,” he says in a gravelly voice, and I remember how we were, in fact, just standing against the wall. “But first, I think I should clarify something. This isn’t some quarantine hookup sex, Emy. I want you to know that right now.”
I blink, caught off guard.
