Page 46 of Knox Unleashed
Knox pinches my chin and tilts my head so he can study my wound. “You sure he didn’t hurt you?”
I shake loose of his hold. “No. He didn’t. Scared me a little, but nothing new there. He threatens to get my licenses revoked if I don’t play along nicely.”
Knox blows out a breath. “What an asshole. And I guess…when it comes to you…I don’t play well, but I will watch my mouth in the future when it comes to you.”
The admission loosens something in my chest. I like being an unknown.
A force of nature.
“I get this is complicated,” I admit.
He laughs at that. “Complicated doesn’t even come close.”
“So, why did you come, Knox?”
He raises an eyebrow until I get the double-entendre.
“Not like that. Why did you come here? Now?”
“Are you just going to ignore the fact I pretty much admitted I’d fuck you right now if things were simpler?”
“What do you expect me to do? Beg?”
He touches my chin again, tenderly this time, and brushes his thumb across my lower lip. “Hearing you beg might be nice.”
His eyes are such a beautiful steel blue that I could spend an age looking into them, and I can’t help wishing I could see an endless supply of desire in them for me. “You’ve already stated it’s not possible, and I don’t dance around with unavailable men. But a man who made it known he wanted me, appreciated me, loved me, even? I’d beg him.”
He releases me. “Almost makes me want to be different.”
I huff at that. “Almost isn’t good enough.”
“In that case, I came here because I had a thought about who might have overheard you talking to the landlord about Jackal’s location, and I need your help.”
I don’t know how I feel about being useful, when being wanted was what I was hoping for. Hearing him tell me those things about his cock…I swear, there’s likely a damp patch in my panties.
But it’s so unsatisfying knowing that all the arousal I feel will go to waste.
17
KNOX
Ifeel as though my breath is frozen in my chest, because it’s impossible to breathe around Maren.
I want to reach out for her, tug her to me, and yes, fuck her. But most importantly, I feel like a piece of me might die if I don’t get to kiss those lips of hers again.
Because in the last twenty-four hours, I’ve learned a lot about her, about the life she has, and the life she deserves.
She deserves friends to hang out with and have fun with.
She deserves a gallery to hang her art in and see it like it’s valuable because it fucking is.
She deserves a father who respects her and fucking cherishes her, because, if I had a daughter, that’s exactly what I’d do. And I’m not even gonna consider why the idea of being a father and having a daughter didn’t scare the shit out of me.
There was a reason I chose to wait until closing time to stop by. My logic was that she’d have sent everyone home so we could talk in private. But now it’s just the two of us, with me looking at the tired slump of her shoulders, wishing I could fix it, maybe having someone else around would have been insurance against me doing something reckless.
I respect the way Maren has run this business despite feeling lonely and isolated in a town that’s never been able to separate the daughter from the father.
Maren hasn’t moved from where she stands, pretty as a picture, behind the counter. Her fingers are curled against the edge of the worn wood, and I wish my presence would put her more at ease. Like being around her seems to ease me, all of a sudden.
