I cock my head to the side and fight the urge to roll my eyes. He’s saying all the right things as though his answers are scripted perfectly to make me swoon.
“Plus, how would you know what you enjoy when you haven’t left this house, Emily?”
“I’ve left this house,” I argue, feeling as though he’s calling me a hermit. I definitely don’t stay confined to this place by choice.
“Eat,” Knox commands, nodding toward my plate. “You’ve got a busy day.”
“Busy?” Excitement brews again, shoving out the defensiveness. “Doing what?”
“You need to eat to find out.”
“I can’t eat with you staring at me.”
Knox gets to his feet, walks around the bed. He glances around the room, scanning before moving from one corner to the other, picking things up, setting them down again. A small white marble statue. A half-burned candle. Two colorful little bottles full of equally colorful rocks.
“This room doesn’t suit you.”
The room is pink, the bedding pink and white. There are lace doilies and fringed curtains, crocheted rugs. It’s a space created for a young girl, not a grown woman, yet Kitty has never allowed me to update it or to make it my own.
I snort. “You think?”
Knox glances over, grins.
I immediately hate my childish response. I hate that I don’t know how to handle having a man in my bedroom. More importantly, I hate that I want Knox to kiss me again, to make me feel that strange fluttering in my belly that I’d felt when he had last night.
“You’re not eating.”
I glance at the tray, back to him. “I’m not hungry.”
Knox walks over and removes the tray, setting it on the vanity table.
“Hey! What’re you doing?” I ask, watching as he moves to the opposite side of the bed.
He glances back over his shoulder. “You said you weren’t hungry.”
I fight the urge to clutch the comforter to my chest, not wanting him to think I am scared of him. I’m not.
Well, I am and I’m not.
It’s complicated.
He grabs a couple of pillows, propping them up before he drops down onto his back. Boots and all hit the mattress, his feet cross at the ankle as he relaxes as though he belongs here.
When he’s settled, he looks over at me.
“Get comfortable, Em.”
“I am comfortable,” I lie, wondering why he isn’t coming closer. I want his hands on me.
“Relax,” he says firmly.
“Like that’s even possible,” I mutter, not meaning to speak the words aloud.
Knox looks over at me. “Do I make you nervous?”
I meet his stare.Yes.“Of course not.”
I fight the urge to move away, trying to convince myself and him that I’m not intimidated.
