“I’ve been through enough lockdowns to know the drill.” His eyes held mine. “We’ll hear them coming, Harper. I promise.”
Something in my chest loosened. Not completely. But enough.
And then a different feeling rushed in to fill the space. Something reckless. Something that felt a lot like want.
Of all people to get trapped in a lockdown with, Knox Blackwood was the one I’d choose. Protective. Devastating. And lips that had felt like a revelation against my own.
If it weren’t for that alarm, I might not have stopped that kiss. I might have kept going. Might have touched him. Let him touch me.
All of this was insane.
So, why did it feel like the sanest thing I’d done in years?
“You’re shivering,” he said softly.
I hadn’t even noticed. But now that he mentioned it, I could feel the tremor running through my limbs. Not from cold. Not from fear.
From him. From wanting something I had no business wanting.
God, he was beautiful. It almost wasn’t fair. The way the red alarm’s light played across his tanned skin, the tattoos that climbed his neck and disappeared into his hairline. He looked dangerous and devastating and like everything I’d ever been warned against wanting.
And I wanted him anyway.
That was the terrifying part. The part that kept me up at night, tangled in sheets that smelled nothing like him. Knox was willing to risk everything to protect me. His parole. His freedom. His chance to reunite with his daughter. He would throw it all away just to make Silas pay for what he’d done to me.
And that kind of devotion, that reckless, all-consuming protectiveness, was making me fall for him in ways I couldn’t afford.
Because here’s the thing about falling for someone in prison: the higher you climb, the harder you crash. Every moment I spent with Knox, every stolen touch and whispered conversation, was building toward something. Something real. Something that could actually exist outside these walls if we were just careful enough, patient enough, smart enough to wait.
But if Knox attacked Silas, that future vanished. Poof. Gone. Nothing but a fantasy I’d tortured myself with for however many years he’d be stuck in here.
And I wasn’t sure I could survive that loss.
Maybe if we shared more than just a kiss, maybe he’d see what we had to lose too? Maybe it would give him the restraint he needed to make it just two more months.
Not that I was using passion as a weapon. More like I wanted this. And I hoped it would also serve an important secondary purpose.
His cuffed hand slid higher, the chain dragging across my lower back. One hand traced his knuckles down the curve of my jaw while the other settled at the base of my spine, light and questioning, giving me every chance to pull away.
I didn’t.
The alarm continued to wail. Somewhere beyond these walls, chaos was unfolding. Guards were running, inmates were being secured, protocols were being followed.
But in here, time had stopped.
It was just me and Knox. Alone. Finally, impossibly alone.
I knew what I should do. Push him away. Remind him of the rules, the regulations, the thousand ways this could destroy us both. I was a strong, independent woman who had clawed her way out of one abusive relationship and built a new life from the wreckage.
I was not the kind of woman who melted just because a man looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.
Except, apparently, I was.
Because when Knox cupped my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting my face up toward his, the chain of his cuffs cool against my throat, I didn’t pull away.
When he lowered his head, bringing his lips closer to mine with agonizing slowness, I didn’t step back.
And when he paused, hovering a breath away, giving me one last chance to make the responsible choice …
