Page 15

“Yes.”

“And now you’re cleaning.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

The question caught me off guard. I stared at him. Why was he asking me that?

Gesturing around me, I said, “Because I made a mess.”

“You made food.”

“And I used your kitchen.”

“You’re aware kitchens are meant to be used?” His eyes bore into me. For a second, I'm taken aback by how beautiful they look.

Then I rolled my eyes. “Are you always this difficult?”

“Yes.”

The answer came so quickly that I laughed. A peel of laughter originating from a place so deep and sincere that I haven't felt in so long. For the longest moment, Knox just watched me. He tilted his head barely a fraction, his eyes dancing over my face. Self-conscious, I placed my hand over my mouth and stopped.

“Why did you stop?” he asked softly. “I love hearing you laugh.”

I ducked my head shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Derek used to mock my laughter. He called it the “witch's laugh” and made me practice how to laugh properly in front of the mirror.

“It's beautiful,” Knox added.

The words made my chest tighten. I turned back to the dishes before I could think too much about it. Because thinking too much about Knox was dangerous.

I was starting to feel safe with him.

And that scared me more.

****

By afternoon, I had cleaned almost everything in Knox’s house. I didn't have anything better to do, and the TV wasn't enough to keep me entertained. So, I grabbed a rag and got to cleaning. Every room in his house was spotless.

It also helped that Knox was damn organized. Every single item had a place. It made sense when I thought of him and how he loved to control his environment.

I was folding laundry when I heard the front door open. My body immediately tensed. It annoyed me that it did, because Knox hadn't given me a reason to think he was going to hurt me. Or maybe I was too trusting.

I tracked his heavy footsteps, and it wasn't until he stood in the room that I exhaled. Our gazes clashed. I started to smile at him when his eyes flickered to my thighs. Then the folded clothes beside me. The clean surfaces.

“What did you do?”

I blinked. Shit. Had I overdone it?

“Nothing?”

His jaw tightened. “This isn't nothing. You cleaned.”

“I washed some clothes.”

“Why?”

I stared at him. Was this man allergic to normal conversations?