Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Oh yeah.
You could read from that I still couldn’t stop myself from looking after him.
I returned my attention to him to see him leaning against the counter, watching me.
“Do you need help changing the dressings?” I asked.
“Maybe,” he muttered carefully.
“I’ve seen you naked, Knox.”
His eyes homed in on mine. “I remember, Luna.”
The way he was staring at me gave me a mighty tingle.
Something else to ignore.
“Seeing your thigh and shoulder won’t send me over the deep end.”
“Good to know,” he grunted.
“What are you doing about showers?” I asked.
He held my gaze then turned his to the ceiling, and yet another person that night gave me the impression I was working their last nerve.
“Knox,” I snapped.
He returned to me. “The reason I didn’t have pillows and my comforter is because I can get up the stairs.”
That stroke threatened again.
“You’re going up and down stairs?” It was near-on a shriek.
“Calm down,” he growled.
“I told you no heroics.”
He suddenly appeared baffled, and yeah, in case you’re wondering, that was also a good look on him. It made him look almost cute.
“When?” he asked.
“When I visited you after surgery.”
“I was drugged out then.”
I ground my teeth.
Then I said, “No heroics.”
“I go up them at night, I come down them in the morning. That’s it. For now. And I can take a fuckin’ shower by myself.”
“People fall in the bathroom, hit their head and die, Knox.”
“I’m not gonna fall and die, Luna.”
“You’re also not gonna shower without me or someone else here.”
“For fuck’s sake,” he sighed.
“Promise,” I demanded.
“These wounds are not as bad as you think.”
“Promise!” I shouted.
He lifted up his good hand. “Fuck, okay. Jesus Christ. I won’t shower without someone here. Happy?”
“Yes,” I told the groceries as I grabbed some to put in the fridge.
“You don’t have to drop by all the time,” he told my back.
“I know I don’t have to,” I told the refrigerator. “But I’m going to because I’m your”—I skewered him with a look over my shoulder—“friend.”
“I forgot you could be a pain in the ass,” he muttered.
“I didn’t forget that about you.” I did not mutter.
There was silence while I dealt with the rest of the groceries and tidied the bags.
“Okay, you’re sorted,” I told him.
“We need to talk,” he told me.
“I have to go home to Jacques. He needs his nighttime stroll.”
“Then tomorrow, when you drop by after work.”
Oh boy.
I was going out to dinner with Brady tomorrow after work.
“That’s not a good time,” I hedged.
“Wednesday,” he pressed.
“I’m having dinner at Mom and Dad’s Wednesday.”
“Then Thursday,” he said through gritted teeth.
Time to backtrack.
“What do we have to talk about?”
It was then, he imitated my play.
He looked at me.
He looked at the tidied grocery bags.
He looked at the fridge.
He then looked at the couch with his pillows, comforter, and the strewn opened PopCorners bags, package of Double Stuff Oreos, and again at half-full, the gallon bottle of water mingled with his gun, his book, his remotes and now his tablet.
He then looked to me.
“Do you need me to take your comforter and pillows back upstairs?” I asked.
“Christ, for someone who’s so fuckin’ together, you can be entirely fuckin’ clueless,” he retorted.
As my blood pressure skyrocketed again, I opened my mouth.
I closed it because…no.
I was not going to yell at him (more), fight with him (again), or anything of the sort.
“I need to get back to Jacques.”
“Walk away,” he said under his breath. “You’re really damned good at that.”
Oh my God!
I opened my mouth again.
He stared at me like a dare.
“You’re a pain in the ass too,” I announced.
“That all you got?”
For now, you big jerk, I did not say.
“I’ll repeat, do you want me to take your pillows and comforter back upstairs?” I inquired.
“It’s more comfortable sleeping in my bed. So”—he struggled, he bested it—“yeah.”
I stormed around him, grabbed his stuff and stormed up the stairs. I arranged both pillows and comforter nicely then tromped back downstairs.
“I’m gone,” I announced.
“See you in the morning, baby,” he called, all soft and sweet and purposefully immensely irritating.
I turned and flipped him the bird.
What could I say?
He was exasperating.
He burst out laughing.
GAH!
I slammed out.
But even as I did, I could still hear him laughing.
I loved his laugh.
Damn, he was right.
I was totally clueless.
FIVE
A LOG
I was learning Knox Chambers was greedy.
I’d come.
He’d come.
And now, after working my neck with his mouth (deliciously), he trailed his lips down my chest, took possession of the underside of my breast, lifted it, and gave my nipple a sweet tongue roll (scrumptiously).
He moved from there to my mouth, touched his lips to mine, then rolled out of bed.
After I watched his fabulous ass…I mean him disappear, I reached for the covers, pulled them over me and rolled to my back.
That—sex with Knox—was freaking fantastic.
Shockingly so. Ridiculously so. Astoundingly so.
But sadly, common sense, as it was irritatingly wont to do, was rushing in, and maybe, now that we were out of the fun flirty bits, and into the naked in bed bits, it was time to consider (seriously tardily) if this had been a mistake.