“It had better be, because it’s going to take an army to take you away from me.”
EPILOGUE
LUCY
Iwas never going to get used to sharing a space with Knox, nor did I want to.
Sitting on the creaky stool in his nana’s kitchen, I had my new sketchbook perched on my lap. It had been at least a year since I’d properly sketched something—where the piece was meant to be a sketch, rather than a sketch predating the painting—but here I was.
My boyfriend was in front of the stove, like he always loved to be. No matter how much time he spent at Valero Pub & Grill with two of my best friends, he never tired of cooking.
Now, I could be selfish and say that I was happy he cooked for me every day, but there was just something beautiful about Knox at the stove.
The small smile on his face, the relaxed ease in his broad shoulders, and the flexing of his forearms while he chopped, stirred, and otherwise handled his kitchen tools and ingredients. I couldn’t look away.
So that brought me here, sketchbook in hand, hatching in shading of where Knox’s neck flexed, and where his shirt collarmet that little notch in his spine right next to a mark I’d been able to leave on him that morning while he was still waking up.
I’d paid for it, of course, but I’d never enjoyed payback so much in my life.
I bit my lip as I added more darkness to that contour of his shoulder and neck.
Knox didn’t know that I was drawing him, obviously, or I’d be paying for that, too.
“Lucy?”
My eyes snapped from his sexy shoulders to his dark eyes, soft with curiosity. My pencil stilled in my hand.
“What are you doing?” Knox chuckled. “You look like you’re misbehaving.”
“Is it really misbehaving if I have no rules?” I shot back with a grin.
Living with Knox was the best choice I’d ever made. We got to share the house he grew up in, I learned more about him every day, and I didn’t have to worry about being barged in on by my family, who would check to make sure I wasn’t doing anything unflattering for our family.
I’d made a mess of the house more than once, especially before my studio was set up in what was once his nana’s bedroom. When I heard Knox’s keys in the door, I tensed up, my body preparing for something I’d always known but never realized. But Knox came in, saw my mess, and had slid his arms around me like nothing was amiss. He’d pressed a kiss to my neck and whispered a greeting that was lost in the static of my brain, but also served to calm me down one word at a time.
Since then, it had been learning how to live in a house without those silent rules.
Jackson and I also had to learn how to live with someone again, though we’d both grown used to and fond of Knox while he’d been in our apartment with us. Now, Jackson would hop upinto our laps each night and snuggle right in with us like this had always been his life.
I almost wish it had, but I wouldn’t change anything if it meant I might not have met Knox and had gotten to know him the way I had.
“Baby?”
I blinked. “Sorry. Lost in thought. What did you say?”
Knox hummed and flicked the stove off with one swift movement. His eyes fell to my sketchbook, and I instinctively—guiltily—pulled it against my chest to hide it from sight.
His eyes blazed. “What are you drawing, Lucy?”
“Nothing!” But my voice was too high to be anything but a lie. I planted my foot on the ground, ready to make a run for it, but Knox was faster.
He lunged across the kitchen, grabbing at me as I tried to round the island into the living room.
“Not so fast!”
Knox’s arms wrapped around my torso, sketchbook and all, and hauled me onto the countertop. He wedged himself in between my legs and tugged at the sketchbook.
He didn’t pull it away from me, but the move was insistent nevertheless.
