“Where?” He asks again although this time with some impatience in his voice.
“He slapped me once. He slapped my face.”
Knox stops stroking my skin with the warm cloth and so I open my eyes to find that he isn’t looking at me with sympathy or pity but with ferocity. He’s planning something. I see it in his darkened expression. Maybe telling the truth wasn’t the smartest approach.
“Knox,” I breathe gingerly.
“What, Gigi?”
“We’re not kids anymore, so I’m asking you not to tell my parents about this. It’s my business.”
His eyes drop from mine. He can't even look at me.
“Knox, please,” I beg. “If you don’t want to make things more strained between them and me, you won’t say anything.”
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Ben has nothing to do with whatever the other threat is and you know it. It’s two totally different circumstances.”
“But I don’t know that.”
“What is your gut telling you?”
“That's the thing, Gigi, I can’t trust my gut when it comes to you. I should have never let you go back to that job, but I did, and for one insane moment I really thought it would be okay. So, you see, I can’t just trust my gut anymore. This time I need to be sure.”
“What does that even mean? How could you ever be sure?”
“Take a shower, order some food, and I’ll be back in a little while. And please don’t go anywhere.”
“Why?” I ask, panicked. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to make fucking sure.”
He heads out the bathroom door.
“Wait.”
I slide off the counter and grab his hand. It’s warm and weathered for someone so young, but when our fingers touch his hand automatically clasps mine.
“What, Gigi?” He asks in an almost pained voice.
“I don’t want you to go.”
“It’ll be fine.”
I pull him closer to me and repeat what my heart is desperately screaming to say.
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Knox wraps his hand gently around my throat and lets his thumb settle at the base. He uses the tip of it to tilt my chin up and then lowers his mouth onto mine. I emit a small whimper as his tongue languidly enters my mouth, seeking mine.
Our tongues begin a slow dance with each other as my arms slide around his waist. I run my hands up his back, caressing the hard muscle underneath his smooth, inked skin.
It’s the sexiest kiss I’ve ever had in my life, and every fiber of my being is on fire. It is taking the last bit of restraint I have not to rip off my clothes in complete surrender, especially once I feel his dick harden behind the towel.
It affirms a question I’ve had for a while. Was it possible for someone like Knox Masterson to be attracted to his childhood nemesis? His fake little sister? The thorn in his side.
The answer is yes.
