I stroke and soothe his head.
The room is quiet, apart from our breathing, like the town in the aftermath of the storm.
Knox lifts his head slightly, studying me before he speaks. “Well, that complicates things.”
Without further explanation, I understand exactly what he means.
“It might take a while to get this out of my system,” I say.
Knox runs a knuckle down my cheek. “Yeah. I’m thinking the same.”
And his kiss seals the deal.
This time, instead of jumping from the bed to leave, he stays with me, stroking my cheek, kissing my lips, moving gently within me.
The shower we take afterward is quieter than the one we took during the storm. It’s not awkward. Knox leans one shoulder against the concrete while the water runs over both of us, his arms loosely around my waist. His chin rests on top of my head like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Don’t get used to this,” he mutters.
“Which part?” I ask before pressing a kiss on his pec. Across his chest are the wordsVIRTUS FIDES HONOR. Above his heart is a raven with the wordslive freebeneath it with his brother’s name.
“The domestic tranquility part.”
I tilt my head back to look at him. “You’re the one standing here, holding me.”
He snorts softly. “Temporary lapse in judgment.” But he doesn’t let go. Instead, he presses a kiss to the top of my head, which makes me smile. “Let me wash your hair.”
He grabs more shampoo than I’d ever use and rubs it between his hands.
I turn around and tip my head back a little. It’s messy. Knox is so…vigorous, my whole body shifts back and forth ashe scrubs. The volume of lather must be outrageous. But his hands slip down my neck, and over my shoulders, massaging as they go. So, I close my eyes and hope for the best, enjoying the relaxation, until he nudges me beneath the spray.
By the time we make it to the living room, I’m dressed in Knox’s shirt. And he’s wearing his jeans—unbuttoned—and nothing else.
“Did you eat?” I ask.
“Earlier, yeah. But I could eat again. Am gonna need my energy if we’re going to do that again.”
“Good answer.” I try to refocus on practicalities instead of indulging in visions of the next round. “I wasn’t sure how long I’d be staying in here after the hurricane passed through, so I have some bacon, some fresh bread. Maybe a BLT?”
“Sounds good. Why don’t I make it?”
I gesture to the kitchen. “I’m not going to turn down someone else making my dinner.”
I grab a large packet of chips, sweet chili flavor, and pull them open before offering them to Knox. He takes a few to munch on before grabbing the bacon out of the fridge.
“So, you really painted all these pictures, huh?” he asks as he pops the bacon on a skillet I point him to.
“I did. Had a goal, once, of maybe going to college to study art.”
Knox turns to face me. “Why didn’t you? You have the skill for it. You should at least have your pieces in a gallery or something.”
“It’s complicated.”
“I got all fucking night.”
I smile at that. “My father felt it was a waste of an education.”
Knox’s brow furrows. “What does that even mean? It’s not his career.”
