"Look me in the eyes and tell me last night was just heat," he demanded.
I met his gaze, prepared to lie. But the words wouldn't come. His eyes were dark, intense, full of the same need coursing through me.
"I can't," I whispered.
"Why?" he pressed.
"Because it wasn't just heat," I admitted.
His hands framed my face. "Finally, some honesty," he said with satisfaction.
"But it doesn't change anything," I insisted.
"It changes everything," he countered.
"My career..." I started.
"We'll figure it out," he promised.
"Your suspension..." I continued.
"Worth it," he said without hesitation.
"The team..." I tried to protest again.
"Harper," he interrupted, his thumb brushing my lips. "Stop thinking."
A confession rolled off my tongue like I was talking to my priest offering me salvation, "I can't stop thinking! That's the problem. When you touch me, I can't think. When you're near me, I make terrible decisions.”
"Like what?" he asked.
"Like this," I said.
I pulled him down for another kiss, desperate and needy. He growled, lifting me easily, pressing me against the wall. My legs wrapped around his waist automatically.
"This is what I mean," I gasped as he kissed down my throat. "We have no control."
"I don't want control," he said against my skin.
"Knox..." I protested.
Another knock interrupted us as if the cruel hands of fate were some how at work. "Dr. Graves? Coach Sullivan needs to see you both. Immediately," someone called through the door.
We froze. Knox's hands tightened on my thighs.
"Dr. Graves?" the unknown voice asked.
"Five minutes," Knox called back.
Footsteps retreated. He lowered me slowly, neither of us breaking eye contact.
"We're fucked," I said.
"Probably," he agreed.
"Sullivan knows," I stated.
"Definitely," he confirmed.
