“Fuck, Em, your body, it’s so goddamn hot.”
“Knox, don’t—”
He flips us quickly so I’m sitting on his lap, and his back is against the bed, the tops of his thighs supporting me.
“Ride me. I want to watch you. I want to see your tits bounce, your hips rotate. I want to feel that ass against my legs. I want all of you.”
If it were any other guy, I’d think he was just saying things to please me, but when I take a second to study Knox, he’s completely and utterly sincere, which makes me feel sexier than ever before.
Pushing my hair to the side, letting it float over my shoulder, I press my hands against his rock-hard abdomen and lift my hips up. He reaches between us and positions his cock at my entrance. On a deep breath, I take him in, one slow inch at a time.
“Ah . . . fuck,” he blows out, the veins in his neck becoming more prominent. “Em, Jesus Christ, you’re so tight. How long has it been?”
“Two years,” I say, not fully seated yet, allowing my body to adjust to him. “Too long.”
“Shit,” he groans, hands falling to the tops of my thighs.
A few more inches. Every time I lower down farther onto him my insides clench around him involuntarily.
“Em, you have to stop that. I won’t last.”
“I . . . I can’t control it,” I say, leaning over and lifting up only to fully sit again.
“Fuck,” he shouts, every muscle in his chest on fire. “Don’t move, give me a goddamn second.”
I rock my hips back because if I don’t move, I’ll lose my mind.
“Em, stop.”
I shake my head and grind down on him.
“Babe . . . ah shit.” He thrusts upward, impaling me so hard that I can feel my orgasm already building.
“This position, it’s . . . it’s too much. I’m going to come too fast,” I say.
Apparently not wanting that, he flips me to my back and hovers above me, pulsing his hips in and out of me.
“Oh God, this is too much as well.” My hand snakes up to my breast where I give it a squeeze, pulling on my nipple. Knox’s eyes darken to completely black as he watches my hand intently, the way it plucks and pulls at the hard nub.
From the sight of me, he rocks in and out, picking up the pace, his force driving me up the bed until he’s gripping the headboard with one hand and pushing my leg wider with the other. The tension in his chest . . . it’s unbelievable. The ripple in his abdomen is mesmerizing. And the guttural sound popping past his lips is such a turn-on that my core’s contracting, and a numbing sensation falls over my entire body, pooling at the juncture between my thighs.
My back arches and my cries fall onto Knox’s lips as he takes my mouth with his, pulling my orgasm from me. White-hot pleasure sears me in half as he pounds into me, hitting me in exactly the right spot. I continue to come as he grunts at the same time, falling victim to his orgasm as well. He rides us through the wave of ecstasy until he starts to slowly come back to earth.
Head bent toward my shoulder, hips barely rocking in and out of me, he says, “Holy fuck.” He lifts his head, sweat caressing his hairline, shock crossing his handsome features. “Holy fuck,” he repeats. “Em, that was . . .”
“That was eight years overdue.”
“That was more than eight years overdue. That was the best fucking experience of my life.” He lowers to his elbows, pressing some of his weight onto me, which I don’t mind. It’s comforting. It’s what I need. “Jesus Christ, I don’t think I can feel my legs.” He chuckles and places a light kiss across my lips.
Lovingly, I run my finger over his back, my stomach twisting in knots of what’s to come, of where we go from here. Everything about this moment with Knox exceeds my wildest imagination, but a part of my brain is still struggling to accept his anger. His refusal to see things from my perspective.
The question is on the tip of my tongue, but I hold back, not wanting to ruin the moment. I can’t lose him again. Instead, I snuggle into the man who’s held my heart ever since I met him. I wore his necklace for so many years after we separated, until it broke from being so thin and delicate. At the time I believed it was symbolic, that something so precious couldn’t survive the test of time. I grieved that loss too.
There are so many words we need to say. So many corners of our hearts we need to open again. But not yet.
Knox demanded I tell him I love him as if he’s been starved of true love for years. I’ve always thought it was just me who felt starved. Empty. Alone.
But now he’s here.
His scent surrounds me. Intoxicating.
His heart beats alongside me. Solid.
His love holds me. Relentless.
I fall asleep in his arms. Peace.
When I wake up the next morning, I’m sore in all the best ways, until that pain shifts in the worst way.
He fucked me . . . and he left.
Chapter Thirty-Six
EMORY
I slam the door behind me, the power of the swing shaking the walls.
“Holy shit,” Lindsay says, spinning at her desk. “Can you warn a girl before you come flying in here like a . . . hey, what’s wrong?” She glances up and down, taking in my disheveled appearance and barely done hair. “Oh no . . . did something happen with Knox?”
That’s all it takes.
The waterworks spring a leak and tears start cascading down my face as I take a seat in one of the small desks made for third graders. Lindsay rushes over to me and sits on the desk, facing me.
“Start from the beginning.”
“We don’t have that much time. The kids are going to be back from gym any minute.”
“Then give me the CliffsNotes.”
She hands me a box of tissues and I quickly dab at my eyes, not wanting my makeup to smear any more than it already has.
Getting ready this morning was next to impossible, because I couldn’t stop crying. After I first woke up and couldn’t see Knox, I thought maybe he went out to get us breakfast; you know, people do that. But when he didn’t come back, or text, I completely lost it. Did he really come to my apartment, take what he wanted, and leave? Was all that talk about loving me just a way to get into my pants?
Was he punishing me for what I put us through?
Every single possible question ran through my head, going unanswered. I sent him a text, asking if he was okay, but when I didn’t get a response in return, I took that as his brush-off.
Everything he said to me last night, the look in his eyes, the way he touched me, I thought it was all genuine, that he truly loved me.
I guess I got played.
By the last person I ever thought would do that to me.
“You know how I asked him out,” I say, in between hiccups.
“Yeah, ballsy, I love it.”
“Well, he finally showed up at my apartment, still raging. We fought, I asked him to leave, and after a few minutes, he came back and told me he loved me.”
“Oh my God, really?” Lindsay asks, excitement brimming in the corners of her lips.
“Yeah, I told him the same, because I do, Lindsay. I love him so much, I never stopped.”
“I could have told you that. What happened after that? Why are you crying now? Shouldn’t we be planning to have drinks to celebrate?”