Knox exhales a broken breath, one hand braced behind him, the other sinking into my hair.
“Fuck…” he growls, already wrecked.
I set the rhythm, slow at first, savoring every reaction…
His abs tensing beneath my palms.
How his thighs flex as my cheeks hollow around him, every heat-laced pull drawing his fist tighter in my hair.
The way his free hand clenches, then releases, desperate for control he’s losing fast.
“Yes, baby.Yes. Just like that…” he says, raw and guttural.
I don’t stop, only look up, eyes locked with his. Lips wrapped around him. Tongue swirling.
He gasps my name again, ragged, breathless, thighs trembling. And then he’s tugging me up with a groan, kissing me, mouth urgent, open, claiming mine with wild desire.
“Too close—” He lifts me, my legs wrapping around his waist. “Ineedto be inside you.”
We tumble into bed, limbs tangled, cool sheets a mild contrast to the heat pulsing between us. Knox pulls me close, one hand splayed low on my back, the other brushing a wayward strand of hair from my face. When his lips find mine, our mouthspart, tongues sliding together in a slow, lingering sweep. My hands roam his shoulders, his chest, the familiar planes now explored with a new tenderness. His mouth trails along my jaw, down the curve of my neck, leaving behind warmth that spreads in waves. Urgency has slowed with a steady climb of heat, tension coiling tighter with every pass of his fingertips over my breasts, my hips, my waist, my clit.
When he shifts, bracing himself above me, our eyes meet, and the look in his gaze undoes me. Reverent. As if he’s been yearning tomake loveto me. Slowly, he slides inside me, deep, a sharp inhale caught between us. In sync, we move, hips rocking in an unspoken rhythm, a language all our own, our bodies aligned, a slow pull of us wrapped in breathless moans and the sound of skin meeting skin. His hands thread with mine, guiding our joined hands above my head, anchoring me gently to the pillow as if to keep me there. With him. For as long as we can stretch this moment.
I hook my legs around his waist, drawing him closer, because I can’t bear any space between us. We kiss again, slower this time, his mouth open against mine like he’s breathing me in. When my hips rise to meet him, he answers with a slow roll of his own, coaxing a sound from me that makes him shudder. A curse falls from his lips, and I whisper his name again, just to hear the rough groan it drags from his throat.
“Cami,” he says my name, gravelly and rough with emotion, “you have no idea what you do to me.”
But I do.
Because I feel it, too.
In every slow thrust. Every brush of his knuckles along my cheek. Every kiss that dares my heart not to fall.
We come together in a quiet unraveling, sinking into each other, fully, without restraint.
As the waves begin to subside, and all that’s left is breath and skin and silence, Knox doesn’t let go. He holds me like he wants to do so forever.
And for once, I don’t let myself wonder what happens when our bubble pops.
Quiet settles over the room.
Waves crash below, rhythmic and steady.
Moon-kissed light spills through the curtains in soft ribbons, catching the sheen of our skin, the curve of a shoulder, the arc of a cheekbone.
Sheets lie tangled around our legs, skin cooling, his hand tracing slow, absent circles against my spine.
Face to face, we lie, noses almost touching, bathed in a silver-blue hush that makes time feel suspended.
“I don’t want to go back,” I whisper.
His brows pull together.
“To New York,” I clarify.
Fingers pause against my back. His gaze flickers, a small shadow crossing his features, like there is something he wants to say but can’t.
“I know I’m supposed to,” I admit quietly. “New job. New chapter. All of that. Truth is, the city doesn’t feel like a fresh start. It feels like a wound I’ve never recovered from.”
