He Loves Me...KNOT

by RC Boldt

  “Watch me taste you.” His whispered command elicits shivers down my spine as the sensation of his hot breath fans against me.

  To resist the urge to close my eyes when he plunges his tongue inside me is the most difficult thing for me to do. The sound of his husky moans while he tastes me voraciously propels me closer to orgasm, causing my muscles to tense in anticipation. The way his short beard rasps against my inner thighs sends delicious surges of arousal strumming through me.

  He releases his grip on my one leg and reaches up, using his thumb and forefinger to give the gentlest tug on my clit. Then moving his thumb in slow circles over it, he applies just the right amount of pressure to send me hurtling over the edge.

  “Knox.” I moan his name as the waves of my orgasm crash violently over me, my hips undulating as I shamelessly ride his tongue.

  Once my heart rate begins to calm, he moves up my body and braces himself above me on his forearms. His arousal presses firmly against my stomach, which gives a little flip when he lowers his head and places a tender kiss on my forehead.

  I swear the effects of that kiss radiate all the way to my heart.

  He moves to lie on his back beside me and reaches over to retrieve a condom from his bedside table. Quickly ripping open the wrapper and discarding it, he sheathes himself.

  Without a word, I shift my position and straddle him. Surprise etches his features before he settles one hand at my hip and reaches his other hand out to tuck some of my hair back behind my ear. With aching slowness, he skims the pads of his fingers along my cheek, down the column of my throat, and over one breast, sweeping over the tip of one nipple.

  “So beautiful.” These two words, whispered with such reverence, nearly do me in.

  Pressing a palm against his firm pectorals, I lift slightly while using my other hand to guide him to my entrance. With his tip poised at my core, I brace my hands on his chest and ease down upon his length, little by little, and my breath catches at the delicious way he stretches me.

  He glides his palms up along my sides to cup my breasts, grazing the calloused pads of his thumbs over my sensitive nipples. I close my eyes, relishing in his touch. My head falls back, and I rock my hips, taking him deeper inside me. I quicken the pace, only to have him draw me to a stop when his grip tightens on my hips. My eyes flash open to find him watching me.

  “I want to take it slow.”

  He thrusts upward while pulling me down, and I can’t restrain my sharp intake of breath. Both his hands clutch my hips as he takes control, working me over his cock in a tantalizingly languid pace. I reach back to brace my palms on his firm, muscled thighs, which changes the angle and allows him to slide even deeper.

  He continues rolling his hips, driving upward while pulling me down on his length in slow, methodical thrusts.

  His breathing becomes more labored, and his eyes flicker down to where our bodies are joined. “I love watching the way you take me deep inside you.”

  My fingers tighten their grip on his thighs. “Feel how wet I am for you.” As soon as I breathe out the words, his cock jerks inside me.

  “Fuck,” he groans. “I love when you talk like that.”

  Emboldened further by his response, the words pour out of me. “I wish you weren’t wearing a condom so I could feel you come inside me. So you could fill me up with your—”

  “Fuck!” He cuts me off, flipping me over and onto my back, draping my legs over his shoulders. Now, his thrusting is no longer methodical, but feverish and frenzied. I’m entranced by his expression of such fierce concentration, the way the cords of his neck appear strained. The play of muscles in his abdominals with each thrust and the strength in his biceps braced on either side of me push me closer to release.

  “Touch yourself for me,” he pants, his eyes a bit wild. “I want to feel your pussy clench around me when you come.”

  My hand moves down between our bodies to finger my clit. With a hoarse whisper, I confess, “It won’t take me long.”

  His eyes briefly fall closed at my admission. When they flare back open, the heat in them nearly overwhelms me. “Come with me, beautiful. Work that clit.” He dips his head, bringing his lips to my ear to nip at it with his teeth. “I’m gonna pretend I’m not wearing a condom, that I’ll fill you up, pretend that you’ll be dripping from me.”

  That’s all it takes. His words alone send me over the edge.

  “Knox,” I cry out as my inner muscles spasm around him, and my hips move of their own volition, pleasure coursing through my body.

  He whisper-groans in my ear, “EJ,” giving two deep thrusts before a final one, and his entire body goes rigid as he finds his release inside me.

  Knox buries his face in the pillow next to my head and lets out a long exhale. I feel him shift slightly and place a quick kiss to my temple before sliding off me, probably to dispose of the condom.

  Already, my mind’s racing with questions. What did I just do? Does this even mean anything to him? I should hurry up and go back to my room, right?

  Luckily, he makes it easy for me when he slips off the bed and walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind him without so much as a word or a backward glance.

  30

  Knox

  I emerge from the bathroom after cleaning myself up and grabbing a warm, damp washcloth for EJ, only to discover her scrambling from the bed, obviously trying to make a getaway.

  Drawing to a stop, I narrow my eyes on her. “Leaving so soon?” I can’t help the sharpness in my tone. It’s not like I expected her to just up and leave after some of the hottest sex of my life.

  Her head whips around, her eyes wide, startled. “I, uh”—she shrugs—“thought I’d leave you be.”

  “Get back on the bed.” My command brooks no argument. When she hesitates, I raise my hand holding the washcloth. “I need to clean you up.”

  There’s a soft flush that spreads across her cheeks. “I can do that myself.”

  I arch an eyebrow. “Get on the bed, EJ.”

  With a huff, she relents and returns to the bed, leaning her back against the pillows. “Fine, Mr. Bossypants.”

  My lips quirk at her comment, but I don’t respond. I pad over to where she’s lying and gently use the washcloth to wipe her clean. When I hear her sharp intake of breath, my eyes instantly find hers.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “No,” she answers quickly. At my pointed look, she averts her eyes before adding quietly, “It was just a little…sore since I don’t”—I strain to hear the rest when she mumbles—“do that regularly.”

  She’s still avoiding my gaze, and it’s probably a good thing since I have the biggest shit-eating grin on my face. Not because she’s sore, but because she basically admitted that she hasn’t been with anyone regularly. Especially not since the last time we were together.

  I can’t deny that I’d wondered about it. Worried about it. Hated to consider it.

  “I’m sorry I made you sore.” With a gentle touch, I place a hand on her smooth thigh. When her eyes lift to mine, I wink. “But I can’t say I’m not glad I’m the one who did it.”

  Her lips part, and she leans forward to shove at me. “Jerk.”

  My hand slips around to cup her nape and guide her to meet my lips in a soft kiss. I speak against her parted lips. “You like this jerk. Admit it.” I refuse to acknowledge how much I want her to admit this.

  She mumbles something that I can’t quite decipher.

  I lean back slightly. “What was that?”

  She squints at me, but the corners of her mouth quiver as she fights a smile. “Maybe.” She raises a hand and places her thumb and forefinger about a half inch apart. “Like that much.”

  Turning slightly, I toss the damp washcloth into the bathroom, vaguely aware of the faint sound of it landing on the tiled floor. I return my attention to her, noting the mischief in her light-blue eyes.

  “I think it’s a little more than that.”

  “Really? How
much more?” Her eyes dance merrily.

  I school my expression into one of stern concentration and hold my hands about seven inches apart. “Probably about this much.”

  I can’t restrain my wide grin when I see the insinuation finally dawn on her.

  She narrows her eyes and shoves at me again. This time, I catch her wrist, my fingers encircling it and tugging her to me for a deep, wet kiss. My tongue delves inside, and I know I could kiss her forever and never tire of it.

  Once our lips finally part, we’re both breathing heavily. When I catch sight of the time on the clock sitting beside my bed, I note the late—or, rather, early—time and groan with dismay.

  “We have a long day tomorrow.” I help her settle beneath the covers, ignoring her quizzical glance, before I slide in beside her. I know what she’s not asking.

  Why aren’t you kicking me out of your bedroom?

  Why do you want me to stay in your bed?

  I refuse to answer her unvoiced questions because the truth of my answers is pretty damn scary.

  Because I never want her to leave.

  It takes a moment for me to realize I’m not having a dream. That this is actually happening and it’s oh, so very real.

  And so fucking good.

  With my eyes still closed, I thread my fingers through her hair, relishing in the sensation of the silky strands and the way it brushes against my thighs. The suction she creates with her mouth is fucking heaven, and I work hard to resist the urge to thrust deep inside her mouth.

  I clench my fingers, tightening my grip on her hair. “If you don’t want—”

  I fail to finish voicing my warning because she suddenly creates a stronger suction and does something with her tongue that pushes me over the edge. I tighten my grip of her hair, my fingers fisting the tresses, as I erupt, shooting hot spurts in her mouth. She takes it all, sucking me dry until I’m limp and completely boneless.

  Once I find the strength to open my eyes, I peer down and watch as she rises up, a smug grin playing at her lips. “Good morning.”

  “Morning, beautiful.”

  When she shifts with the intent to move back beside me, I snake an arm around her and tug her close, fitting her against me. Ducking my head, I feather a light kiss on the top of her head and close my eyes, content to simply hold her.

  Hell, I’d give anything to stay here with her, just like this; forever, with no interruptions.

  As if on cue, my phone’s alarm goes off, alerting me to the fact that we need to get ready for her father’s birthday festivities. I hadn’t even realized how late we slept, but considering everything, it’s really not much of a surprise.

  Reaching over to where my phone’s sitting on the nightstand, I silence it quickly and return to holding EJ tight.

  “Damn reality and obligations. I’d much rather stay here.” My tone is hushed, and I press another kiss to the top of her head.

  “Me, too.” Her whisper is faint, but the way she snuggles into my embrace sends warmth rushing through me.

  We lie here for a while longer, and I’m on the verge of falling back asleep when I hear her quiet voice. “I’m scared, Knox.”

  With a frown, I peer down at her, but she doesn’t shift to meet my eyes. “About?”

  She pauses. “Seeing him again.”

  I run a hand over her back in a comforting caress. “I promise, if he’s an ass, we’ll leave.”

  This gets her attention. Her head lifts from my chest, and my heart falters at the sight of her mussed hair and sleepy eyes. “Really?” Her eyes search mine as if in disbelief of my promise.

  I cup her face with one hand and skim her cheek with the pad of my thumb. “Really.”

  She ducks her face and presses a kiss to the base of my throat before settling her cheek against my chest again.

  Staring up at the ceiling, I smooth a hand over her hair in a caress and, lost in thought, my words spill out without any consideration.

  “I’m not complaining about being woken up that way, but I didn’t get to surprise you with a daisy. It’s not as exciting if I give you one after we…” I trail off as what I’ve just admitted to dawns on me.

  Emma Jane doesn’t immediately respond, but when she finally does, it’s barely more than a whisper. “I always loved…love getting daisies from you.”

  I release a rush of breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. My lips curve up in a slow smile. “Well, then.” I press a kiss to the top of her head, her hair so smooth and silky against my lips. “I’ll just have to pick you one after we shower.”

  Instantly, her arms wrap around me, and she hugs me so tightly that it catches me off guard.

  She turns her face slightly. “Thank you.” Her words are spoken softly against my neck before she presses a delicate kiss on it.

  That kiss that forces me to face what I’ve been trying to deny all along. What I’ve denied for the past eight years.

  I never got over Emma Jane.

  I still love her—the woman who shattered my heart.

  31

  Emma Jane

  My nerves are completely frayed and, right now, I’m fantasizing about doing shot after shot of Patrón.

  Knox takes my hand in his and links our fingers together. Instantly, I have the urge to pull away because people will talk.

  I dart a meaningful look down at our joined hands. “I don’t know if this is smart, Knox.”

  He stares at me for a moment. “If what’s smart?”

  “This.” I give a little tug on his hand. “Us holding hands.” I gesture with my other hand which holds my small clutch. “Here. With all these nosy people around.”

  He merely shakes his head with a dismissive laugh. “Not everyone’s nosy.”

  “Not true. I am.” We both turn at the sound of a familiar male voice.

  “Wells.” I greet him with a small, tentative smile.

  “Emma Jane.” He appears amused by my uncertain greeting before he addresses Knox with a grin. “Intent on sending the wagging tongues into overdrive, I see.” His eyes flick down to our hands, and when I try to withdraw mine again, Knox flashes me a sharp look and tightens his grip.

  “Just making sure she doesn’t dart out the back door.”

  Wells laughs. “Kinda like the last—” He stops abruptly, sending a flood of awkward silence rushing over us.

  Turning to Knox, I smile weakly. “I’m heading to the ladies’ room really quick.”

  Green eyes hold mine for a beat, as if he’s trying to ensure I won’t skip out on him. Finally, he relents and releases my hand. “See you in a few.”

  I nod and head off in the direction of the restrooms, praying I’ll be able to weave my way through the crowd of partygoers without getting stopped and subjected to an awkward conversation.

  Once I make it safely inside the restroom, I release a massive sigh of relief before checking my makeup at the vanity. Luckily, no one else is in here and I take an extra moment to stare at my reflection. I can’t help but recall the last time I was here and all dolled up in Granddad’s home—the Haywood Mansion—surrounded by family and a ton of guests, was for my own wedding.

  The wedding my own father had a hand in destroying. Or opening my eyes, however one might phrase it. But he wasn’t alone.

  Knox had also played a part in it.

  I’d graduated early from my accelerated degree program at The University of South Alabama. Southern Charm Lifestyle had been the only large magazine in the area and when I’d acquired a position there, I’d been honored to join their staff.

  Then my father purchased the magazine six months later. We’d had a huge argument over that development, and I vividly recall demanding to know why he’d purchased the magazine, knowing he had plenty of other business endeavors.

  He hadn’t given me a straight answer, and I instantly knew why. Because he wanted another way to try to control me. To get me to do his bidding.

  Knox’s work was rooted here in Mobile, and I knew
it would be unfair to ask him to move if I managed to acquire a job in Atlanta, Jacksonville, or even Miami. Although, at that time, another job was unlikely with my lack of work experience at the magazine.

  The day of my wedding had started out as the happiest day of my life before transforming into the worst, most depressing, and heart-wrenching day.

  I’d been trying to get a moment alone with Knox, but kept getting deterred in some way or another. I’d wanted to give him the small wedding gift I’d made for him; a monogrammed handkerchief I’d designed. He always talked about how his grandfather had carried one on him that his grandmother had made for him, the same one Knox had carried for years. I thought he’d appreciate my thoughtful gift.

  I never got the chance to find out.

  I pad down the carpeted hallway as stealthily as possible in my wedding dress, making my way toward the room where Knox is getting dressed. I never gave much thought to the whole seeing one another before the wedding bad luck thing, so I figure this will be the perfect time to give him the handkerchief.

  As I near his room, I see the door is ajar before I hear the familiar voices inside.

  “You need to get control of her and knock this damn career mindset out of her.” I recognize my father’s voice. He’s been giving me crap for years about how I need to “improve myself” and become “proper wife material.”

  Basically, he expects me to cower to a man’s bidding, get married, and not do much else except pop out a bunch of kids and have dinner prepared and in front of my husband each day when he comes home from work.

  Which means I’m not surprised to hear this coming from my father. What does surprise me is what I hear Knox utter next. Silently, I plead with Knox, Tell him to take his old-school ways and shove them where the sun don’t shine!