Page 27 of Pucking Knox
"YouTube." At my laugh, he pulls me closer. "Your brother may have warned me. I had to make sure I didn't embarrass you tonight."
Something warm unfurls in my chest. "You learned for me?"
His eyes darken. "I'm learning a lot of things for you."
The way he says it makes me shiver. His hand strokes lower on my back, barely appropriate for public viewing.
"Thank you."
"Smile, Princess." His lips brush my ear. "We're being photographed."
Sure enough, several photographers circle us discreetly. Tomorrow's papers will probably feature us – senator's daughter and her reformed bad boy, the perfect political romance.
"Your father's watching too," Knox murmurs. "Looking surprisingly pleased."
I glance over his shoulder. Dad stands with some donors, actually smiling as he watches us dance.
"Guess you've won him over."
"Guess so." But Knox's voice is tight. "Think he'd still approve if he knew what I did to his daughter last week?"
Heat floods my body at the memory. "Knox!"
"Sorry." He doesn't sound sorry at all. "You're just so fucking beautiful tonight. Making it hard to remember why we're really here."
The music changes to something slower. Knox pulls me closer, one hand stroking patterns on my bare back. I watch as he glances around the room, and I notice he’s starting to take the looks personal.
"Why are we really here?" I dare to ask as his eyes remain on a few people that are staring.
Before he can answer, we're interrupted by a donor couple – the Bradleys, old money and older opinions.
Knox is immediately annoyed as he releases me. He takes a deep breath, barely making eye contact with Mrs. Bradley.
"Kennedy, darling." Mrs. Bradley air-kisses my cheek. "Your father must be so relieved."
"Relieved?" I ask, but my mind is preoccupied with Knox. Something is suddenly off.
"Well, after those unfortunate party photos..." She eyes Knox like he's something she scraped off her shoe, and he knows it. My gut twists at the change in his demeanor. "But you seem to have... settled down. Found someone more suitable than expected."
Knox's hand tightens on my waist. "Suitable?"
I hear the anger in his voice. Now I’m worried.
"Oh, you know what I mean." She laughs nervously. "Despite your... background, you've proven quite civilized. Almost proper."
"Almost proper?" Knox's voice could freeze hell. "You think that's what Kennedy needs? Proper?"
"I only meant—"
"You meant I'm surprisingly well-behaved for trash from the South." His smile shows too many teeth. "That I'm doing well considering I grew up on food stamps instead of trust funds. That Kennedy's slumming it, but at least I know which fork to use now."
"I didn’t—"
"Knox." I touch his arm, feeling the tension vibrating through him. "Let's get some air."
He lets me lead him to the garden terrace, thankfully empty in the February chill. The moment we're alone, he starts pacing.
"Fucking vultures," he snarls. "Looking down their noses at you like you're some puppet they can control. Like you're not ten times smarter and stronger than any of them."
