Page 33 of Knox Unleashed
“I’ll be fine over here,” I say, looking at the brown leather couch that is too short for my frame.
“Men your age have delicate backs. I don’t want to have to deal with helping you get down the stairs in the morning when you’re in spasm.”
Silently, I wonder what Maren’s ass would look like with red palm prints on it. I like dishing a spanking when it’s deserved…or needed.
“I sleep naked,” I say, trying to put her off.
“Good for you.” She doesn’t even glance my way. “Click the light off so we don’t waste power.”
Once I do so, I find myself walking to the other side of the bed, where I drop the towel and tug off the hoodie.
And as I climb in, I wonder how my life just veered so far off the rails that I’m going to spend the next few hours naked next to a Caldwell.
12
MAREN
Iwake slowly, at first, until the memory of everything from the previous twelve hours floods through my brain.
I was attacked by two men, and as I shift, I feel muscles and bones ache.
I was saved by Knox, whose arms are currently encased around me in a hold that feels protective, loving, and possessive all at the same time.
And then, I remember the shower, when, in one simple act, Knox gave me the most intimate sexual experience of my life.
Not that I am a virgin, by any measure, but my sex life, to this point, has been fine. Sparse, maybe. But fine.
For a few seconds, I simply lie there, letting the quiet seep in, without fully committing to opening my eyes. There’s no more raging storm outside. The wind that howled through the shutters through most of the night has dissipated.
But it’s hard to focus on whether I can still hear the rain when all I can feel is the solid warmth at my back, the weight across my waist and chest, and the unmistakable presence of another body in my bed.
One that has a firm erection resting between the cheeks of my butt, and whose name is Knox.
Knox sighs and fidgets a little, as if aware of my thoughts. He moves his forearm so it rests low on my stomach, his hand splayed there like he’s afraid I’m going to run.
One of my legs is tangled with his, and we’re in the middle of the bed. Which is odd because we both started the night clinging to the edge of our respective sides of it. At some point, I must have shifted towards him. But I’m comforted by the evidence that he also shifted towards me.
Either way, there is no space left between us, I have no idea what time it is, and I just had the best night’s sleep I’ve ever had.
Usually, I barely sleep through a hurricane that lands at night. I want to be aware of what’s happening so I can react if I need to. But something about being in this bed with Knox helped me feel safe enough to sleep.
Or maybe it was exhaustion from the adrenaline of the assault.
Or the energy I burned making out with a man who hates my father.
His breath touches the back of my neck, slow and steady, and then, I realize something.
He isn’t asleep.
It’s subtle, but it isn’t a slack-jawed puff of breath. It’s measured and even.
“You’re awake,” I murmur.
Behind me, his breath hitches. “Yeah.”
His voice is rough, layered with sleep. It vibrates through me. And the right thing to do is toss the covers back and extricate myself from his hold, but I want to stay here with him for a few minutes longer.
Because I know once he leaves here today, we won’t be like this again. There’s no way he’s coming calling on the daughterof the man who killed his brother. Even if he tries, that detail will come between us eventually, whether it’s in the next five minutes or five years.
