“Oh yeah?” I say, finding this all too entertaining. He has no clue how long I’ve gone without sex, and to be honest, because the sex I’ve had has been mediocre at best, I have plenty of patience. “And what do we lose?”
“Oh, a wager.” Carson rubs his hands together. “I want in.”
Knox crosses his arms over his broad chest and says, “Fine, if Em cracks first, I get to pick out your walk-out songs. And I’m really digging some early Britney Spears.” He turns to me and says, “And as for you, missy, if you crack first, you have to go out to lunch with me after our Monday class, finally.”
I can’t help the smile that passes over my lips. “Okay, fine, but if you crack, you’re going to pay for a nice steak dinner for all four of us, and you have to speak in a French accent the whole time while wearing one of my skirts.”
Carson and Holt both bark out in laughter. I’m so intent on watching Knox try not to show any sense of humor I don’t catch who claps.
“Deal.” He holds his hand out to me and I take it, but before he lets go, he says, “But you have to be honest, since it’s three against one. No skewing the results.”
“Do you really believe I would do that?” I ask, shocked.
“Yes,” he deadpans. “Yes, I do.”
I chuckle. “You’re right, I would. Okay, I agree to being totally honest.”
“Good.” He leans in, and pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger and presses his lips softly against mine before pulling away and says, “Game on, babe.”
“Why are you two sitting out here with me?” Dottie asks.
We’re in the common room, on the most uncomfortable couch known to man. I’m sitting on Knox’s lap as he slowly makes circles on my back with his finger, driving me crazy. We’re one week in on the no-sex competition, and I’m actually shocked at his self-control. Then again, the only reason he is where he is today in his sport is because of self-control and self-discipline.
I refuse to be in a closed room with him right now, not when he smells like fresh soap and his hair is still a little wet from his shower after practice. I haven’t seen the man in two days, and when he came into my dorm room, his lips immediately found mine, and all I could do to save myself was push him out into the common room.
When I shoved him and pointed at him to stay away, he laughed and made himself at home on the couch, only to pull me down on his lap and torture me with his fingers on my back. It’s bliss. And torture. Totally unfair.
“She doesn’t want to lose the bet,” Knox answers, eyes trained on the baseball game in front of us that he turned on. None of us complained because frankly, we couldn’t care less.
“What bet?” Dottie asks, crossing her legs under her and getting comfortable.
“You didn’t tell them?” Knox’s brows rise in surprise.
I push my hair behind my ear. “It’s none of their business.”
“What’s none of our business?” Lindsay asks, walking into the room eating a popsicle.
Jumping right in, Knox fills them in on the bet, including how Carson and Holt got in on it, professing their doubt in Knox.
Laughing, Lindsay says, “You really think you can outlast Knox?” She shakes her head. “No way. You’ve never had good sex, and your orgasms were few and far between. Your itch needs to be scratched badly.”
I really do need new friends. What ever happened to girl code around here?
“You haven’t had many orgasms?” Knox asks. “Why the hell did you stay with your ex for so long?”
Ignoring Knox, I say, “Hey Lindsay, remember how we talked about censoring what you say? That would have been the time.”
“Please, Knox needs to know the sexual background you’re coming from.” She leans toward him. “It wasn’t much. Yeah, Neil was nice at first, but after they did it for the first time and then the tenth time, she didn’t have anything wonderful to say. I think her exact comment was, ‘I’ll grow to like it.’”
“Lindsay,” I snap. “Shut it.”
“Grow to like it?” Knox drags his hand over his face as if he’s in pain. “Oh hell, I wish I didn’t know that.”
“Because you want to fuck her even more now, right?” Lindsay asks, looking smug.
“Precisely.” His finger stills and his hand slides down to my ass. He presses his forehead against my shoulder and then lets out a long breath of air. “I’m going to take off.”
“Why?” I ask, disappointed.
“Because there is no way I’m losing this bet and if I stay here, with that new knowledge, I’m going to lose . . . badly.” He shifts me off his lap and heads to get his backpack. When he returns, he presses a soft kiss across my lips and lingers for a few seconds before whispering bye.
After he’s gone, I turn to Lindsay and sarcastically say, “Thanks a lot.”
She chuckles and says unapologetically, “You’re never going to win.” And even though I can see the humor in this situation, because I really can, part of me is annoyed. Lindsay just shut down my time with Knox. We don’t get much time together, so when time is stolen like it just was, I don’t feel great. Do I love that Knox wants me so much that he left? Yes, I think so. But, who knows when we’ll get to hang out again? This moment isn’t about the bet, because right now, we’re both losing. And that sucks.
Chapter Eighteen
EMORY
Emory: This bet was stupid.
Knox: Are you saying you want to give up? If so, I’ll be to your place in ten minutes. I expect you naked, legs spread.
Emory: It’s been over a month, Knox. Over a month, and you haven’t budged.
Knox: That’s because I have a good hand and a strong imagination of how you look completely bare. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, in case you were wondering.
Emory: I have a good hand too, you know . . .
Knox: I see what you’re trying to do. Get me all hot and bothered from the shock of hearing that you masturbate. Sorry to inform you, babe, but in my imagination, you masturbate to me anyway. Nice try.
Emory: Damn it. Are you really not going to budge?
Knox: On the first day I met you, I asked you out to lunch and you said no. My pride took a hit that day. I’m just stubborn enough to hold on to that nugget and power through. The question is, are you really that stubborn not to go out to lunch with me?
Emory: It’s the principle of the thing.
Knox: Your loss.
Emory: You’re an ass.
Knox: Whoa, say that again. Turned me on.
Emory: I hate you.
“Psst, babe, over here.” I look through the books on the bookshelf and spot a black backward hat, followed by a pair of blue eyes—my favorite pair.
It’s December.
December. And Knox hasn’t cracked, not even a little.
We’ve had some pretty heavy make-out sessions and the minute it starts to turn over to something more, he pulls away and turns on a movie, or starts reading a book, or looks at sports highlights. His resistance is platinum level. It’s driving me crazy.