Hard Knox

by Amber Malloy

  A slow trickle of people were shopping on that floor, but the kid easily maneuvered around them. Knox rushed to the end of the corridor. A tight right took him to the suites overlooking the gardens.

  Glancing back and forth, he found what he needed.

  “Hi,” he said to the maid. She smiled timidly but didn’t say anything back. “Did you just start this room?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where were you before this one?”

  She pointed across the hall.

  “Can you let me into that one for a quick second? I think I left my card.”

  Appearing hesitant to grant his request, Knox gave her his most sincere smile to convince her. “I’ll be in and out, promise.”

  “Okay.” She moved around her cleaning cart and scanned him into the room. Hoping to put her at ease, Knox attempted to keep the stupid grin on his face. He probably appeared nothing less than crazy.

  “Remy,” he whispered once he’d slipped into the room. “It’s me, Remy.”

  Although similar to their suite, this one was slightly bigger, with a garden view. Knox stood in the outer sitting area and listened before he headed to the master.

  “Remy,” he called again. Knox peeked into the bathroom but saw nothing out of order.

  “Sir,” the maid called.

  “I think it’s under the bed,” he lied. “We had a rough night.”

  Pulling his head out of the bathroom, he noticed the hotel phone had been knocked onto the bedroom floor. On a hunch, he walked over to the bedroom closet and yanked the door open.

  Dodging her first swing with the desk lamp, he caught it on the second. “Baby, it’s me.”

  As recognition seemed to overrun Remy’s panicked gaze, he pulled her into his arms. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” he repeated until her rapid, shallow breathing evened out. “We’re okay.”

  Chapter Nine

  Cutting their trip short, they had charted a private plane back to the States. Remy hadn’t said much about the man in the elevator. Mistaken identity or jetlagged—past that, he couldn’t get anything out of her. Years ago in college she had slipped once and referred to the guy as ‘the man in black’.

  Covered in sweat, Knox stood in front of the open refrigerator door and chugged orange juice straight from the carton. Since flurries were expected, he’d decided to skip his private gym around the corner. Instead, he had used the building’s fitness center, pushing his body to the limit. He needed to work the alcohol out of his system.

  Out of breath, he sucked down the last bit of juice.

  Someone knocked on the door. Grabbing the remote, Knox turned on the television. The building’s cameras appeared on the screen. Security downstairs had his list of guests who were allowed to enter the building. If he didn’t know the person, they couldn’t make it past the lobby.

  His best friend Hawthorne Maze, aka Hawk, stood outside his door.

  “It’s open!” Knox pitched the empty carton into the trash.

  “What the hell, man?” Hawk stepped into his condo. “My code to the private garage doesn’t work.”

  “Sorry.” He chuckled. “I forgot to tell you.” Whenever Hawk made it to town, the hockey player crashed in Knox’s spare room. He played for the Dallas Bucks, but after a couple of bad seasons, Hawk wanted a trade.

  “Is this my eviction? ’Cause you’re definitely giving me Vietnam flashbacks to my last relationship.” Standing three inches shorter and fifty pounds heavier than Knox, Hawk was an enforcer on his team. Knox almost felt sorry for anyone who had to come up against the big guy…almost.

  “Yeah, the thought of you seeing my baby naked brings about homicidal tendencies. It was best just to cut your code to the elevator before things got messy.”

  “It’s true then?” Eyes open wide, Hawk’s words came out as a hiss. “I thought… Well, it doesn’t matter. When the hell did this happen? College? I mean…how? We were roommates.”

  “Look… It’s complicated.”

  “I’m not Facebook,” Hawk sighed.

  Deep down, the man who cracked skulls for a living was a big softy.

  “Do I at least get to meet her?” he asked in a petulant tone.

  “Sure, but I need you do me a favor first.” Chucking his thumb at the refrigerator door, he pointed to Remy’s message on the chalkboard.

  By the time their plane had touched down in Chicago, she had already filtered through a ton of work offers. Do I want her to stay home? Sure. Do I think that will happen? Nope.

  “That’s hella old school.”

  “Tell me about it. She doesn’t have a phone. Pass me that.” He pointed at the box on the end table. Knox had wanted to surprise her, but the iPhone hadn’t gotten delivered until after she had left.

  “This is getting stranger and stranger. What woman in this day and age doesn’t have a phone?”

  “Remy, that’s who. Look… I need you to distract some execs from one of those fancy chick mags for me. The Mavericks’ front office called an emergency meeting and I need to convince her to come with.”

  The beast put his hands to the sides of his mouth. “Paging Gavin Knox and his wife to the principal’s office.” He chuckled.

  From what Knox could tell, his friend was finally loosening up, so he pitched the rest of his plan. “Not sure why, but yeah, I’m being summoned.”

  “Scoop her up on the way. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

  Knox rubbed the side of his face, knowing full well that Hawk could read between the lines. “I need to persuade her first,” he confessed.

  “You’re in the doghouse, huh?” he hooted. “And that shiny new toy won’t cut it? Now I’m dying to meet her.”

  “No, it won’t even crack the surface,” he admitted to his best friend.

  “All right, I’m in, but these fancy ladies may not be hockey fans.”

  “When has that ever stopped you?”

  * * * *

  Remy sat in the famous Chicago steakhouse, Gibsons, and listened to the woman wax a shiny spin onto their magazine’s Executive Editor position.

  As a gag gift, Knox had bought her a Hello Kitty watch several years before, but the joke was on him, as she rarely took it off. Controlling the urge to check it every five seconds, she trained her facial expression to mimic a state of mild interest.

  “With your background and talent, M.M.C. Publishing believes you’ll be a perfect asset to our catalogue.”

  “Your drinks.” The waiter handed her a napkin with Knox’s handwriting on it before setting the glasses down.

  Women’s restroom.

  “Ladies.”

  Remy glanced away from the note to witness two professional women losing their collective minds over a flesh and bone Games of Thrones character.

  “Oh my God, can I get a selfie?” one of them said.

  Remy was pretty sure that the dude he resembled had gotten his head chopped off in the first season. She racked her head for his name. Conan the Barbarian? Crap, I suck at this.

  “Hawk.” He held out his huge hand. “I’m friends with your husband.”

  “From my understanding, you’re the best one.” She grabbed his big mitt and shook it. Tall and wide, Hawk’s loose curls fell to his shoulders. His huge presence seemed to take up the entire room.

  “Can you really say that at our age?” he asked.

  “When you’re the best one, you can,” she confirmed.

  Hawk broke into a huge grin that softened his intense features.

  “If you guys will excuse me.” Remy grabbed her purse and stood up. The rush for the lunch crowd had cleared probably twenty minutes before, but the restaurant still seemed fairly busy.

  “Do you mind?” He gestured toward her vacated seat.

  “Not at all.” Positive Knox had put the man up to stalling for him, Remy hoped he’d promised his bestie something good in return.

  She made her way across the main dining area and went upstairs. Remy pushed open the door to the ladies’ r
oom, where an ‘out of order’ sign had been posted.

  “That took longer than I thought.” Knox’s deep voice caressed her as he leaned against the row of faucets.

  “The restroom?” Remy twisted the lock on the doorknob before she joined him in front of the long mirror.

  “This place is immaculate. You can eat off the floor.” He picked her up and perched her on the edge of the sink.

  Knox forced his large frame between her legs. “That shit I pulled on you in Barbados was emotional terrorism,” he said, locking his deep blue eyes with hers, “and I’m sorry.”

  “What was that?” She cupped her ears. “I didn’t quite hear you. Sooree.” Knox rarely slipped into his Canadian accent, but she never missed an opportunity to make fun of him.

  He turned his head to hide his smile. “Really, Remy? I’m trying to apologize here.”

  “Say it,” she pushed.

  “Fine.” He leaned in close to her lips. “Requiem Bell, I am sooree that I put you in that fucked up position. I’m sooree that I gave anyone, especially you, the impression that I would ever cheat on you—”

  She didn’t wait for him to finish. Remy captured his lips between hers and sucked. Tense and tired, she needed an apology, but demanded sexual release more. “You smell good.” Touching the tip of her tongue with his, she tasted mint.

  Knox pulled away to nibble on her lower lip. "Never better than you.” With a groan, he rested his forehead against hers.

  Unwilling to let him ruin another sex-driven high, she kissed his neck, cutting off any deep thoughts he may have had. “What’s our out time?” Remy licked the spot near the strong scent of leather and citrus that wafted from his skin.

  “All the time in the world, babe.” He pecked her on the head and reached underneath her wrap dress. After Knox pulled the sides of her thong down to the floor, he placed the lacy number in his pocket.

  “This is seriously filthy behavior,” she said in a heady daze, ready for him to feast on her.

  “Just how you like it.” He pushed her dress out of the way to kiss her thigh. “Whose pussy is this?”

  Remy’s breath hitched at his words. She inched her legs apart for him to see her wet slit.

  “Say it,” he demanded.

  Wound tighter than a steel drum, she caved once he blew on her clit. “Yours, baby,” she muttered, hypnotized by the devilish sparkle in his eyes.

  “And don’t forget it.” Before she could respond, he attacked her pussy with missile-like precision. He closed his hot mouth over her swollen lips.

  When he flicked his tongue over her clit, she sucked in a jagged breath. He manipulated her folds with tiny swirls. Pulling his mouth away, he blew warm air against her hot nub. Immediately she missed the comfort of his touch.

  Knox slowly tapped her clit with his index finger. The methodical rhythm made her pussy ache. Reaching up, he worked his big hand inside her dress and shoved her bra out of the way to gently play with her nipple.

  “Oh hell.” She immediately bucked at the force he used to suck her. Dripping wet, Remy slipped her fingers into his hair to pull him farther into her crotch.

  As he pushed his tongue deep into her core, she rode his face. Slow, mounting tingles ripped through her entire body.

  “Come in my mouth, baby,” Knox muttered into the slit of her pussy while he slipped his finger deeper into her throbbing hole.

  Remy’s climax exploded throughout her body, shattering her soul. “Fuck!” Gasping for air, she tried to steady herself. He held on to her thighs until she came down from her high

  Swiping her cum from the sides of his mouth, Knox rose from his knees. “The front office called an emergency meeting.” The mix of his breath mint and her pussy tickled her nose. “We have to cut this short.”

  Partially exposed in front of her husband, Remy sat in a lewd position on top of the sink with Knox between her legs. While she reached for his rock-hard cock, a devious smirk graced his face. Fumbling with the button on his jeans, she pulled down his zipper and shoved her hand into his pants. “They waited this long.”

  “My wife’s presence has also been requested,” he huffed, out of breath. Remy jerked his shaft up and down in the palm of her hand before she pulled him out.

  “Ah, honey, getting off once isn’t much of an apology,” she cooed.

  “So greedy,” he muttered. Remy teased his enormous cock into the opening of her slit. Slowly he thrust his hips but didn’t enter her. “This is important.”

  “Then you better hurry up and fuck me.”

  Without another word, he shoved into her.

  Her breath hitched at the force he’d used. Filling her up with his rod, he held on to the sides of the sink.

  “Your pussy holds me so tight,” Knox grunted. Remy wrapped her legs around his waist.

  While he sucked on her neck, he slammed into her over and over again.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she chanted.

  As he battered her body from the inside, she threw her head back and groaned. In perfect harmony, they managed to rub out their orgasms at the same time.

  “Knox…”

  He clung to her body. They stayed intertwined in the bathroom of a four-star restaurant, sated and out of breath. Numb tingles shot through her arm from the weight of his huge frame.

  “Huh?”

  “We’ve got to go,” she told him.

  “Oh yeah.” He pecked the side of her neck and worked his way up to her face to kiss her lips in a greedy, desperate manner.

  “We smell like sex,” she muttered.

  “Yeah.” Knox grazed his teeth over her lip. “That’s why I picked such a primo restroom.” He moved from between her legs, probably to keep the mess down to a minimum before he pushed his cock back into his jeans and pulled them up. “We can use some of these fancy things to clean up…” Towelettes, colognes and soaps were on a station near the sink. “So what’s with the suits downstairs?” He snagged a cotton towel off the attendant’s cart and turned on the faucet.

  One of the strongest men she knew on or off the field, Knox hid his softer side with skill. Men displayed vulnerability differently than women. He’d be tense one second, clingy the next, but she’d honestly never seen him this bad. “I don’t know. We didn’t get to the meat of it,” she lied.

  “If you had to guess.” He placed the warm cloth against her throbbing pussy.

  Not sure what he wanted to hear, Remy shrugged. “Probably something to do with the latest matte lipstick color. Who knows?”

  “Why aren’t you telling me the truth, Heartbreaker?”

  She chuckled at the nickname he had given her in college. “Let’s deal with your job stuff first. We’ll tackle my employment status at a later date.” Unwilling to entertain a serious conversation half-naked with his hand between her legs, she kissed him on the lips. Deepening their contact, Knox pushed into her mouth with the tip of his tongue.

  “Says the rich girl who doesn’t need to work,” he murmured once he’d nipped the bottom of her lip and pulled away.

  Removing his hand from her crotch, Remy slid off the sink and dug in her purse for gloss. She needed to fix her face if she didn’t want to model the ’just banged in a public restroom’ look for the Mavericks’ front office.

  Chapter Ten

  Portraits of past and present players lined the reception area of the Mavericks’ stadium. A huge statue of their logo made of onyx and bronze emerged from the middle of the floor.

  Intertwining her fingers with his, Remy squeezed the back of his hand. “You okay?” she asked.

  “This Saturday school feeling has me tweaking.” Regardless of his bad-boy reputation, Knox had never sought out trouble and he wanted to keep it that way. As the son of a politician he only had two options, and he always picked the Boy Scout route. Until Remy, of course. Knox would not only change his image for her, but also his religion.

  “That’s because you’re Canadian. Don’t worry, Supastar. I got enough deten
tions for the both of us.”

  “I’m sure you did.” Knox smacked on a wad of gum with obnoxious intensity. They had managed to clean up in Gibsons’ restroom in record time.

  When they had gone down to the main dining hall, Hawk had seemed fine with the magazine execs and his iced tea. Knox had tipped the restroom attendant another fifty bucks and left his friend in the capable hands of two tipsy fans.

  “Mr. Carter is ready to see you,” the receptionist called them.

  “Here goes me getting my nuts kicked in.”

  “So dramatic,” she purred.

  Knox opened the door with the honest-to-goodness belief that the only thing that would save his ass was on his arm…Remy. The Mavericks’ owner and former player Bane Carter stood up from his desk to greet them.

  As Knox stepped into the boss’ office, the enormity of it took him off guard. A floor-to-ceiling window framed the Mavericks’ entire field.

  “What the hell, Remy? Not once did you say anything about being married—and to a football player, of all animals,” Dahl Carter shrieked from across the room. With the office being damn near the size of a small apartment, he wasn’t surprised they’d missed the owner’s wife behind the bar.

  “Dolly!” Remy screeched before she shook loose of his grip and ran to the woman. They screamed, laughed and babbled in some foreign language that eluded him. Seriously confused, he glanced over at his boss, who shook his head. Knox joined the football legend on the opposite side of the office.

  “Sorry.” Dahl, his boss’ famous wife, laughed. An international chef, she had made a name for herself through rebuilding and rebranding failing restaurants. He had always wondered how these two strong personalities had clicked long enough to get married. Bane didn’t seem like the compromising type and neither did Dahl, but somehow it worked. “Remy here came into the restaurant where I was executive chef. What was that? Six years ago?”

  “Yeah, when I first started traveling,” Remy explained, carefully avoiding eye contact with him.

  “Well, this sexy mama-jama came to my restaurant and liked my food.”

  “Loved,” Remy corrected her.