Page 79 of Keep Me Close

My throat tightens with emotion. No one’s ever made that kind of promise to me before. The most terrifying part is that it sounds like he means it.

“You don’t have to say that. I’ve forced myself into your life and complicated everything, and I’m sorry for that.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Here’s the thing you need to know about me—if I say something, it’s because I mean it.” His voice dips. “And with you, I do. Every damn word.”

Moisture stings my eyes. I blink and stare down at the water.

After a few minutes, he reaches for the washcloth resting on the edge of the tub.

“Sit forward a little,” he murmurs.

I do as he asks, my heart beating faster now for an entirely different reason. This side of Knox still catches me off guard. The tenderness and patience. The way he keeps showing me pieces of himself I didn’t know existed.

He runs the cloth over my back with slow, unhurried strokes. The heat of the water and the glide of his touch send a million tiny shivers skating across my skin. It’s not overtly sexual, but that almost makes it worse. It’s intimate and entirely too easy to get lost in.

It wouldn’t take much to fall for the man Knox is revealing himself to be.

His hand moves in slow circles over my shoulders, down my spine, and back up again, as if he’s trying to wash the tension out of me one caress at a time. I close my eyes, allowing my head to fall forward.

When he’s done, his hand lingers at my shoulder, his thumb brushing over my skin.

“Are you okay?” There’s a beat of silence. “It’s understandable if you’re not.”

Without responding, I turn to meet his gaze and find his face inches from mine. Damp strands of blond hair fall across his forehead, and the bruise under his eye seems darker in the muted light. His attention drops to my mouth for a split second before lifting back to my eyes.

Neither of us moves as the humid air seems to thicken, turning charged. It’s like the moment at the zoo all over again, only quieter and more intimate. And that makes it so much more precarious because there’s nowhere for either of us to hide.

“This is crazy,” I whisper.

“You’re right. It is.”

In that moment, I realize I could stop this. I could lean back or shift away. We could both pretend this moment doesn’t feel inevitable.

Instead, I turn in the water until my hand can rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm. His arm tightens around my waist, and when my gaze drops to his mouth, his eyes darken.

I lean in, and Knox meets me halfway. His lips are firm beneath mine. My fingers curl against his pecs, and his hand slides up my back, pressing me closer as the kiss deepens. The heat has nothing to do with the water and everything to do with the combustible energy that’s been building between us for years.

This feels real in a way very little in my life ever has.

I have no idea how long we kiss before finally pulling apart, our foreheads resting against each other, both of us breathing harder than we were a minute ago.

It feels like we’re standing on the edge of a moment that could change everything.

As terrifying as that is, part of me is relieved. There’s no backing away or acting as if we haven’t crossed a line.

And I’m not sure I’d want to even if I could.

28

Knox

Other than the faint slosh of water from the tub, the bathroom remains quiet. For a long moment, neither of us moves. Cheyenne is still half turned toward me, her lips swollen from the kiss, her eyes a little dazed, as if she’s not entirely sure where the line is anymore.

Which makes two of us.

All I know is the second I stepped into the bath with her, our relationship shifted. And it feels a hell of a lot more real than what we’ve been pretending to be up until now.

She draws in a shaky breath before turning and leaning back again, her spine aligning with my chest. The heat of her sinks into me, damp skin against mine. When my mouth brushes her temple, she melts back against me with a soft sigh. My arm tightens around her waist, keeping her tucked close because letting go is the last thing I want to do.