“Promise me he’s not some broody tech guy with a Porsche and a five-year plan to emotionally isolate,” he added. “Because your ex gave me Carrie Bradshaw PTSD. Season Six. Post-Aiden.”
I told him Knox runs on sarcasm, black coffee, and vibes. Not a Porsche in sight. And as for emotional isolation? The jury’s still out. Not that it matters. This is a fling. Emotions void by design.
Then I tried to change the subject and asked about his Wall Street intern era, but he stonewalled like he signed an NDA.
“Also…” he added randomly, “Millie showing up early and leaving you homeless with a hot neighbor? That’s forced proximity and the mighty universe soft-launching your relationship. In my opinion. Anywho… I expect updates. And more kitten pics.”
I rolled my eyes. And smiled.
Because, yeah.
Paxton wasn’t wrong.
I came to Crystal Cove to reset. Agreed to this fling to finallyfeelsomething again, without the pressure of forever.
Falling is not part of the plan.
In fact, not doing so is clearly spelled out in fine print, our signatures on the dotted line.
But between beach walks, shared routines, and the way his gaze lingers, this feels disarmingly close to real.
And now, here we are on Crystal Cove beach, sun dipped low upon us, casting long, golden shadows across the shore.
We must’ve dozed off like this, on the beach lounger, nestled into powdery sand a few feet down from Knox’s deck, angled perfectly toward the ocean.
I’m tucked between his legs, my back against the solid comfort of his chest, his arms wrapped around me in a casual way that feels anything but.
One hand rests at my thigh while the other sketches slow, aimless shapes across my arm.
Stripe and Shadow chirp from their shady “beach” playpen a few steps away, alternating between playing and napping,stretched out in the filtered light. At six weeks old, they’refloating,too. Bolder. Louder. Always tumbling into trouble.
Just like us, they’re learning how to fall without thinking too hard about the landing.
A breeze lifts my hair and carries a hint of citrus from the shampoo I used during our shower this morning.
Each time I inhale, I catch the scent of him behind me.
Each time I exhale, I forget what it ever felt like to be anywhere else.
We haven’t spoken in a while.
But with him, silence feels like a conversation we’re in no rush to finish.
Knox shifts slightly beneath me, his lips grazing my hairline.
“Hey.” He sounds sexy and scratchy from sleep.
“Hi,” I whisper back, smiling against his skin.
I tip my head just enough to look up at him, his eyes heavy-lidded but focused. On me.
Fingers trail down my side, brushing the thin line of my bikini.
“Wish we could freeze time. Just you, me, the sun, this heat between us, and nothing else.”
“Me too,” I whisper, heart pounding.
I twist slightly, shifting forward, nudging his nose with mine, letting our kiss build slowly.
