Every time I’ve brought up going back to work on the phone, Nico’s been vague and told me that whenever I’m ready to come back, the job is mine. Now I know why.
“He doesn’t want me as a waitress. He wants me to keep making pies.”
Knox tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “To be fair, you did nearly pour hot coffee onto Wyatt’s cock, so maybe your strengths lie elsewhere.”
I poke his chest again, and he grins at me. “Chest girl. Told you.”
This time, I don’t deny it or take my hand off him. I flatten my palm on his warm, strong skin, carefully watching his expression in case he doesn’t like it. Muscles ripple under my hand, and his smile slowly fades. My belly tightens as his eyes flick to my mouth.
When he cradles the nape of my neck and draws my face toward his, I’m not surprised. This moment has been building since last night on the porch when I was positive he wanted to kiss me, but didn’t.
Knox kisses me so sweetly that my toes instantly curl. He fists my hair, keeping it out of both our faces as he draws me over his chest and extends the kiss. It ends sooner than I wanted, leaving me hungry for more.
“That was nice,” I whisper.
He licks his lips. “Yeah.”
As I lean in for more, he’s already there, giving me another one of his delicious, self-indulgent kisses.
“I sleep naked,” he says when we break apart.
I blink at him, the taste of him on my lips and all my thoughts in the sky. “Huh?”
He grins. “That’s why I’m not wearing a shirt. Not to seduce you in case you think I brought you here for sex. I feel trapped in clothes, and I thought I could do it with you sleeping beside me, but I had to take them off.”
“Completelynaked?”
I peek down to where the sheets conceal the bottom half of his body. The tips of my fingers literallyitchwith the need to strip it away and find out if he’s telling the truth. Knox says he didn’t bring me here for sex. I believe him, but if he’s truly naked under there, I don’t envision a future where I get out of this bed and walk away.
Sometimes ignorance is bliss.
“Yup.”
My eyes snap up, and I feel my face heat at how long I might have been staring.
Not wanting to take him at his word—or to peel back those sheets—I lean over him so I can peer down at the floor. His t-shirt is barely visible, and I don’t see his shorts.
“What are you doing?” he asks, amused.
“Looking for your shorts. I don’t believe you.” I yelp when I overbalance, nearly falling headfirst to the floor.
He catches me, his hands warm through my shirt as he returns me to my side of the bed. “Careful.”
“Thanks.”
“You know, there are easier ways of finding out than by toppling off my bed,” he says, his voice soft with amusement.
“I know.” I smooth my t-shirt down over my thighs for something to do that will hide my red face from him.
“So?”
Finished smoothing invisible wrinkles from my—or rather Wyatt’s—t-shirt that I wore to bed last night, I stare up at the ceiling. Nico brought me a box of clothes I can sleep in. Yet night after night, I find myself sleeping in one of my alpha’s t-shirts instead.
“Looking under that sheet is not a good idea.”
“Because?” he asks, all his teasing amusement vanishing at my quiet tone. Things just got serious, and he knows it.
“I’m becoming needy,” I whisper, ashamed.
