Page 52 of Knox Unleashed
“When this inevitably ends,” I say, “it’ll be easier to forget you if my memories of you aren’t tied to everything inside my home.”
For a moment, Knox just looks at me. Then, his jaw tightens. “Jesus, Maren. Don’t plan for the end.”
I touch my fingertips to his cheeks. “I’m being pragmatic. One of us should be.”
He opens his mouth as if he wants to respond but then closes it again. He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Then, I’ll go move my bike.”
And as I watch him go, I wonder where I buried the last of my sanity, because I have a feeling that no matter how hard I work to protect my heart, it’s going to be utterly ruined.
19
KNOX
Most people don’t smile when they’re headed to the gallows.
But here I am, grinning like an idiot while I swing onto the bike and kick the engine to life. Because the sooner I’m parked in Maren’s boathouse—which, fuck, is that a euphemism?—the sooner I’m going to be able to strip her naked.
When this inevitably ends, it’ll be easier to forget you if my memories of you aren’t tied to everything inside my home.
I should be agreeing with her. Like,Good idea, Maren. Let’s fuck in the emergency apartment and keep it casual.
But there is a niggling piece of me that wants this to be something more.
Even though it can’t ever be.
By the time I’ve moved the bike around the back of the building, Maren has locked up the bait shop. She holds the doorway to the boathouse open, and I pull my bike inside before she closes it behind us.
When I shut off the engine, silence drops around me, only broken by the gentle slap of water against the pilings.
Maren doesn’t say a word as she walks by me and heads up the stairs, and I frown, wondering where these sudden urges to be a boyfriend and lover come from. I wanted her to wait so I could hold her hand and lead her. I wanted to touch her as she walked by. But those all feel like rights I haven’t earned yet.
I suppose this is the point where a smarter man might stay on his bike and turn around without looking back.
But I’m not feeling smart.
I’m feeling lonely.
Like Maren.
This place smells like salt water and old rope, but that changes in the stairwell that leads up to the apartment.
And Maren is in there.
Waiting for me.
I drag my hand through my hair, glad of the break in proximity. Haven’t been so close to coming in my jeans in a few decades. Moving the bike and having a few minutes away from the feel of her skin beneath my calloused palms means I’m less likely to come too soon.
The apartment is exactly as I remember it, and yet, it’s not.
Because Maren’s clothes are on the sofa, neatly folded, and she’s beneath the covers, so I can just see her face and an inch of a naked shoulder.
For a moment, neither of us says anything. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, but there’s a faint crease where the elastic that held it back all day sat. It’s endearing.
She shifts slightly against the pillow, and my cock clocks that more of her skin is exposed.
“Are you planning on standing there all night?” she asks.
Something loosens in my chest. “I thought you wanted to feel more like a date. Was going to suggest we watch a movie or something.”
