Knox (Sexy Bastard #3) (7 page)

“You can say that again,” I interrupt with an appreciative glance at her waist.

She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t stop talking. “And say something about how you’re looking forward to the season, some other reasons you love Atlanta—”

“Do the hot women count?” I grin up at her.

She glares back. Then, to my surprise, shrugs. “Yeah, that’s probably a good line. We all know how much the groupies love you. The—what do they call them, diamond dames?—they’ll eat it up.”

“It’s diamond dolls, and I don’t care what they think,” I blurt out, before I can think better.

She swallows hard. “Knox . . . ”

“Hey, I’m only saying. You can’t blame a guy for being honest. You know I haven’t been able to tear my eyes off you all night.”

“That’s the problem,” she mutters, her voice lower now. God, the husk in her tone kills me. I want to grab her right here, push her backwards over that desk.

No one’s around. We still have, what, five minutes left?

I stand, and she leans toward me, her lips parted slightly, hands lifting to rest against my chest. I’m a hair’s breadth away from reaching out, grabbing those wrists and pulling her soft curves against my hard abs, when—

The door to the supply closet bursts open. We leap apart like we’ve been burned. Maybe we have.

But neither of us recognize the guy who stumbles inside and starts groping around the mics.

“If you’re looking for the bathroom, it’s on the other side,” Shelby says, and he startles, glancing at us like he had no idea there was anyone else in here.

Just a random drunk attendee, thank god.

“Sorry,” he says, staggering backwards. Then his eyes shoot back and forth between us, and his grin deepens. “Really sorry to interrupt.” He winks at Shelby and flashes me a thumbs up, before he slams the door behind him, leaving our mouths hanging open mid-protest.

“Close call,” I say, running a hand through my hair with a nervous sideways grin at her.

She scowls. “Too fucking close. Knox, even the drunkest idiot here can tell there’s something going on between us. We need to cool it. Now.”

Before I can respond, she follows him out of the door. I’m left to calm down—and
cool
down—solo. For about half a minute, before I need to follow her out of that door and onto the waiting stage.

I
have to admit
, Knox certainly pulls this disaster out of the toilet. The boy can talk. He spins out a full five-minute speech, the same amount of time Jackson was supposed to talk for, so we don’t even fall off schedule. He’s graceful about the trade, talking about how much he already loved Atlanta being a native and all—and yes, making more than a few jokes about the ladies here, which earns him a lot of laughs and more than a few catcalls from the women in the room.

He only borderline freaks me out once, in the middle of talking about why he’s so excited for the upcoming season, when he catches my eye for way too long, in front of the entire crowd, and says that the very best thing about coming back here is his friends—old friends and new alike.

My heart throbs in my chest the whole time he’s talking, but somehow, Ryder, Cash, Cassie, and Savannah (who had been late to arrive and long to linger by the introductions table, where I set them up chatting with our star player, Banjo) don’t seem to notice. Or if they do, they ignore it, thank god.

He rounds out with introducing Mike, then descends the steps to stand by my side, his stage grin still fixed onto his face. Damn, he’s handsome as hell when he smiles like that.

Okay, maybe all of the time.

He takes a stand beside me, where we’re watching the speakers beside the stage. Under my breath, I murmur, “You just saved my life, you know. I owe you one.”

His eyebrows dance. “Owe me what, exactly?”

I narrow my eyes. “A favor, Knox.”

“Can that favor be delivered in the form of a repeat of New Year’s, or . . . ?”

I resist the urge to elbow him. “You know the answer to that already.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been thinking,” he replies, keeping his voice so low that only I can hear it. I hope my facial expression remains as neutral as that tone of his. “Jackson isn’t even here, after all. And I did just save his ass. So did you, not calling him out for skipping.”

I chew on my lip. “Doesn’t change anything.”

He shrugs one shoulder, nonchalant, like he didn’t really care. “Ah well. Can’t blame a guy for asking.”

The final speech ends, and the audience flood the speakers. I lose sight of Knox in the crowd for a while, and I take the opportunity to duck out behind the bar for a breather. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job, but every now and then you need a break.

I’m only just starting to relax, when the ballroom doors open behind me. Knox strides after me, a purposeful expression on his face.

“How did you manage to ditch the groupies?” I ask him.

He doesn’t even reply. He just grabs my waist and pulls me into a deep, searing, hotter-than-hell kiss, one that sends my knees knocking against each other and my legs sagging beneath me like jelly.

“We’re getting out of here,” he says, and this time, I cannot turn my brain on enough to remember why we shouldn’t. He drags me into a hallway behind the bar, my heart pounding and my palms beginning to sweat.

“Looking to make a donation to early childhood education?” I ask with completely feigned nonchalance, as we pass the entrance of the ballroom (thankfully deserted), and take another side hall until we’re deep, deep into the bowels of the make-shift casino, empty at this hour.

I look into Knox’s cut, ruggedly handsome face and suddenly I’m all out of questions.

“You know what I’m looking for, slugger,” he says in a kind of low growl, wrapping one of his massive hands around my neck and using the other to pin my hips against the wall.

A tiny moan escapes my throat as he moves an index finger to tilt my chin up toward him.

Then his lips sink into mine once more. This one is deeper. Longer. It’s an urgent, molten fire, tsunami wave of a kiss that’s charged with all of the history that came before it.

I grab onto the lapels of Knox’s tuxedo jacket and hang on so that I don’t get swept away.

His mouth moves down my neck, tracing kisses along my collarbone, and my breath catches with the surprise of his tongue on my skin.

I run my hands up his chest, wanting to feel the solid warmth of him through his shirt. Wishing I could rip his jacket off, I wrap my hands around the sinewy curves of his biceps and hold on tight.

He does look damn good in a tux and a skinny tie, even if his clothes and mine feel like our mortal enemies right now.

He slides both hands up under my dress as if he’s reading my thoughts, cupping my ass and lifting me off the ground so that I’m pinned and writhing against the wall.

Everything else fades from my mind. The speeches, the event, Jackson’s no-show. Even how bad an idea this is. It all fades away.

Doesn’t seem like Knox is too hung up on Jackson right now, either. Neither of us is thinking about consequences.

“Shelby,” he whispers as he fixes me with his hypnotic green eyes, his hands still tight around my ass, his fingers inching closer and closer to my already soaked panties. “Let’s get the fuck out of here. I need to get you out of this dress.”

“Yes,” I say breathlessly as I slide down the wall in his embrace. “I just . . . I just need to check in with my boss and make sure it’s okay for me to go now.” Being this close to Knox is tying my tongue into knots.

“You do that,” he says. But I don’t respond, because a sudden shockwave of almost paralyzing sensation is rippling outward from my core. Knox has slipped a hand up from my ass around to press his palm against my clit, holding my pussy tight through the cloth of my panties as he gives me another deep, long kiss for the road.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so mad at a pair of underwear in my life.

Ten minutes later, Knox has picked up his car from the valet and I’ve gotten the okay from a pretty blitzed out Tim.

I climb into Knox’s Porsche in my little gold dress.

“Your place or mine?” Knox asks.

“Mine’s closer,” I respond.

He revs the engine and rests his hand on my thigh, lifting it off occasionally to shift gears. My muscles twitch under his touch, my skin burning beneath his palm.

We don’t make small talk. In the silence it’s easier to pretend that what we’re doing isn’t exactly what we agreed to avoid. I can feel him looking at me out of the corner of his eye, but I stare straight ahead at the road, afraid of breaking the spell.

Knox’s hand moves imperceptibly up my thigh as we drive, each millimeter of movement filling me with a kind of crazed anticipation. His hand slips just underneath the hem of my dress and I breathe in sharply, the feeling of his hand against the softness of my upper thighs sending shoots of tingling energy between my legs. I feel my nipples hardening, my whole body a lightning rod tuned to the tiny movements of his hand.

I stay silent, but if I could speak I’d say two words:
Keep. Going.

Knox appears to be a mind reader, but he’s not receiving my signals as quickly as I’d like. I squeeze my thighs tightly together, trapping his hand between them.

“Might need that hand back to downshift as we get to the exit.”

“We’ve got at least a few miles to go before then,” I respond, finally losing my patience and guiding his hand up where I want it. He complies, nudging the fabric of my panties aside and tracing my wet seam with a finger. Slowly, methodically, like he’s got all the time in the world, he runs his finger all the way up over my clit and back down again. My body shudders, my entire frame of consciousness shrinking down to the slick vertical line he’s drawing with his finger. Pinpricks of light appear in my vision as the shooting waves of pleasure grow in intensity.

I moan and buck against his hand, wanting his fingers inside me.

“Keep it together, slugger,” Knox says as he turns to watch the show I’m putting on. “We’re almost there.”

I let out a breathy moan. “Don’t you dare stop doing what you’re doing.”

By the time we pull into my apartment’s garage, I’m ready to climb into his lap. He hasn’t even turned off the engine yet when my hands are at his fly, unzipping his pants

I moan again as I wrap my palm around his thick, hard cock.

“Holy shit,” I gasp out loud.

I’ve been thinking about this particular piece of anatomy for the last several weeks, and I guess I got a little overjoyed about finally being able to touch the real thing.

“Live up to your memories?”

“That and more,” I say, leaning over so that I can whisper into his ear. “Knox, I can’t wait to put my mouth around you.”

With that I gently zip him up and exit out the passenger side.

“
Fuck me
,” Knox says as he slams his door, rubbing his face and following a few beats behind.

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do, Cooper Knox.”

I keep him at arm’s distance the whole way up to my pad, just to build up his anticipation. He’s been the one setting the boundaries between us, and it feels good to give him back a little bit of his own medicine.

My attempt at playing hard to get doesn’t last very long. I’m digging my keys out of my bag and fumbling with the lock when he comes up behind me, lifting my hair off my neck and kissing me behind the ears. I feel his warm breath on my skin before his lips make contact, and when they do a wave of sensation shoots straight down my spine.

I’ve never had quite so much trouble opening my own door. But it’s hard trying to unlock my front door with Cooper Knox pressing his rock hard erection into me. The feel of his swollen hardness makes my whole body stand at attention. Knowing he’s ready for me sends a rush of blood between my legs. I can feel my clit swelling in anticipation. Time seems to stop as he reaches around to cup my breasts, pressing himself against my hips so that his hard cock strains against my backside.

I finally get us inside my apartment before any of my neighbors are treated to a peep show.

“Can I . . . get you something to drink?” I say a little awkwardly.

“So formal,” Knox says, his lips curling into a slight smile as his eyes remain fixed on mine. “Forgetting I’ve been here before?”

I haven’t forgotten.

“You’re the one who’s looking pretty formal,” I say, pulling him toward me by his tie.

He responds by shrugging off his jacket and tossing it on my couch.

I slowly unknot his tie, nibbling on his earlobes and kissing his neck as I inhale the spice of his aftershave.

Knox walks me backward to the nearest wall and pins me against it. “Now, where were we?”

Damn. Something about being incapacitated, completely at his mercy makes me incredibly hot. The contrast between that brute strength and the slow, deliberate teasing he’s sending my way has turned me into a puddle of want and need.

I fumble with his shirt buttons from my disadvantaged position, finally slipping his shirt off and getting an eyeful of the well-defined musculature I remember so well. I run my hands along the ridges of his torso, shivering as I make contact with his muscles and flesh. This is what I wanted. To feel him again. It’s really happening now, and not just in my imagination. He places a hand on either side of me on the wall, giving me full access while trapping me in his hold.

I need more of him. And I can’t wait any longer.

I unzip his fly and pull his cock out. It’s swollen, hard, and huge in my hand, the skin soft as velvet. I moan again as I’m overcome by a wave of warm, prickly sensation that floods my body and brain, threatening to drown me. I bend my knees and bring his cock to my face. Slowly, I draw circles around the tip with my tongue. Pretty soon I have to put the whole thing in my mouth.

“Shelby,” he groans, and hearing my name on his lips makes me clamp my lips even tighter around him, loving the sound. “That feels so fucking good.” Knox reaches around and moves my hair out of my face.

I feel myself getting wetter and wetter as my mouth closes around his hard dick. I suck gently at first, taking my time.

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?”

If Knox only knew how many times I’d thought of him. . .

I suck harder, taking the full length of him into my mouth and throat. Knox’s breathing quickens, and he moans as I work my teeth around the tip of his cock.

“Fuck, baby I need to see you naked,” he says. I suck on him harder, not wanting to give him up. But he pulls himself out of my mouth and lifts me back up to standing. Slowly, deliberately, he unzips my dress and lifts it over my head, his hands skimming the sides of my body. My skin is covered in goose bumps, my nipples taut and aching for his attention. I’m so ready for him to touch me.

He reaches around to unhook my bra, and it falls off my body.

“Damn, Shelby. You look so fucking good,” Knox says as he stands back to take me in.

He pulls me close, and then his mouth is on my breasts, around my nipples, sucking on them forcefully. I sigh with relief as I give myself over to him.

A blast of sensation moves in waves from his mouth to my nipples and down between my legs. It’s almost too intense—but I don’t want it to stop. He bends as his mouth moves down to my stomach and I start seeing stars.

He works his way across my hips, teasing me, licking his way from hipbone to hipbone. My stomach muscles clutch involuntarily as my body responds to the overflow of stimulus. I dig my heels in and brace myself against the wall as the room swirls around me.

I’m ready now. I want his mouth on me.

He works his way down from my belly button to my mound. Finally he moves my panties to the side, pulls my leg over his shoulder and exhales over my lips, the heat of his breath sending me over the edge of a precipice I know I’m not going to be able to come back from.

“I can’t wait to taste you again,” he says looking up at me, his eyes dark with lust and mayhem. Then he licks me from the bottom of my slit all the way the top.

And now my knee does buckle, and my thighs start to quiver.

Being with Knox is even fucking better than I remember.

He traces wet kisses down my thighs, making me ache for his tongue where I need it most. “More . . .” I moan.

“Ask nicely, Shelby, and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

And so I beg.

“Please, Knox,” I breathe.