He reached for my erection, and I slapped his hand. "No way. That's your punishment for teasing me."
He blinked. "My punishment is an amazing blowjob? Baby, I don't know who taught you about punishments—"
"No. Your punishment is not being able to give me one."
He lifted me so our faces were even and arched a challenging brow. "That's diabolical."
I smiled and hugged him tightly. "What took you so long?" I mumbled against his neck.
Knox sighed loudly, and I pulled back. Often, he looked like he held the weight of the world on his face. Right now, he held the weight of this world and all the rest of them.
I smoothed the wrinkles at his forehead. "What happened?"
Adjusting me more securely against him, he turned off the water and carried me out of the shower. He draped a towel over my shoulders. By this point, I knew better than to try to help dry. When I did, he'd let me, but he'd get this pinched look, almost like it was hurting him to watch me care for myself.
"Nothing happened," Knox said, concentrating on my arm as he ran the towel down the limb. "Faust hasn't been able to narrow down the mineral wool to a single distributer. It's too common of a substance."
"And the guys are restless?" I asked.
His face betrayed each emotion as he felt it. Worry, uncertainty, and then finally, resignation. "They need more to do."
He grabbed my lotion, pumping some in his palm and rubbing his hands together before smoothing it over my body. He spared no inch, moisturizing me from head to toe. When finished, he washed his hands and carried me back to the bedroom.
"We have more remodeling to do today," I said brightly.
He nodded. "We do. They are fine. I'll take care of everything, Jazz. I don't want you to worry."
I understood his concern, but what about what I wanted? "I'll worry if I like. I care about what happens to them too."
Knox's lips twitched, and he kissed my forehead. "Yes you do." His nose nuzzled the delicate skin just under my earlobe and inhaled deeply.
Once I was dressed and Knox had no reasonable excuse for keeping me in the bedroom, we headed out. The others were already moving around. I must've grown more accustomed to their sounds because I knew the twins were in the kitchen and Faust was outside. Diesel's room was farthest from the common spaces, but, somehow, I knew he was there too.
Knox put a pot of water on to boil before rummaging around in the fridge for oatmeal toppings. He grabbed milk and then raisins, cinnamon, and brown sugar from the cupboard. His face was serene as he set the dishes out in front of me. Knox couldn't cook any better than I could, but he still tried, every day, to make food that was healthy and tasted good. Before I'd come along, they'd lived on fast food and raw meat they hunted themselves.
"I'm going to ask Hallie to teach me some breakfast things next time she comes over." Hallie visited every Friday, staying for longer and chatting more each time. I realized after the second visit that Hallie's worry had been what brought her to me, but her loneliness was what kept her coming back.
She'd lived her whole life in Rockshell. She knew every person who came and went, but she never spoke about friends. The only person she spoke about on a semi-regular basis was her ex-husband. I liked the man less and less the more I heard about him.
"I don't mind making you breakfast."
"Take the hint," Jagger said, coming into the kitchen with Huntley right behind him. "He's sick of oatmeal."
Jagger veered my way, taking the path behind my chair. He paused directly behind me, his face looming overhead. When I looked up at him, his eyes darted away.
"It's okay," I said. "The smelling thing you do. I don't mind it. You don't have to hide it or…smell me in secret." I looked sharply at Knox. "Unless…?"
Knox had the same expression he would have if he were corralling a frightened animal that he was afraid would spook at any moment. "If you don't mind." His eyes gleamed. This was more important than he was letting on. His face told me that much. Maybe I didn't get the sniff thing, but I could indulge it, and besides, I liked feeling accepted. And that was what it felt like when the others did it, an acceptance.
Jagger leaned in, his nose actually grazing the corner of my ear. It felt nice, but not arousing like it would if Knox were the one doing the nuzzling. He moved from behind me, and Huntley took his spot, doing the same but on the other side. When they sat down, both looked pleased and maybe also a little calmer.
"I know my skills in the kitchen aren't ideal." Knox pulled the oatmeal from the stovetop and stirred it before scooping some into a bowl. "If you want to take over a few breakfasts."
"I don't want to take over. I just want to help." I turned to the twins, searching for some backup. "I should help, right? Earn my keep."
Jagger frowned while Huntley shook his head softly. "Jazz Hands, you do your job by being around and keeping this guy off our ass." Jagger gestured rudely to Knox.
"Once you find something you really enjoy," Huntley added with more reason in his tone. "Then you can do that. But there's no reason for you to tackle a job you don't enjoy, Jazz. It isn't like we don't have the time."
I didn't know if Huntley meant the double meaning, but the atmosphere in the kitchen grew thick with tension.
I ate steadily and silently, finishing nearly at the same time as Knox—which never happened. The man could open his mouth and inhale food whole.
I got up to soak the dish, and on the way back, Huntley snagged my wrist, his expression troubled. "I didn't mean it like that, Jazz Hands."
"I know."
He still looked upset so I leaned forward, inhaling slowly at his forehead like how they had done. The motion made me feel silly. I couldn't claim intimacy as I could with Knox. But scenting Knox made him happy; maybe the same thing would make Huntley happy.
At first, there was only shock when I studied his expression. Slowly, the shock melted into something that looked more like satisfaction.
"We'll figure it out," I whispered, stealing a line from Knox's script. I turned to Knox. "What's on the agenda for today?"
Knox's face was unreadable, like he was purposefully trying to remain impassive, blank. Then he blinked, and the empty slate cleared away, replaced by a smirking, confident alpha. "Demolition."
***
Knox assured me I didn't need to help, but he'd gathered two pairs of goggles, two scrapers, and two sanders. In the days previous, Knox repaired the outside half of the entryway. The week before had been spent tearing out rotting boards, replacing what he could and doing a total rebuild in the spots where he couldn't. The eave no longer sagged on one end, and once we sanded the old paint away and put on a fresh coat, the entrance would look as good as new.
Originally, I'd thought it had been Hallie's comments that had sparked Knox's increased motivation to fix the place up. I'd watched his face while she'd spoken about the hotel. The five men had moved in and done just enough to make the place livable. But now, they worked for pride, not just survival.
After an hour of grueling labor, Knox called for a break. My body screamed its thanks. Scraping the layers of grime and paint made my arms hurt and my body sweaty, and I didn't want to imagine what my face looked like.