by April Hunt
“This is so not fair,” Zoey panted, her fingers digging into his good shoulder for support.
“Just making sure you’re ready for me.” He smirked.
“I’m more than ready.” Even though his touch was pleasant torture, she moved his hand out of her way and took his entire shaft in one slow drop.
They groaned in unison.
Zoey braced her forehead against his and rotated her hips. Every swivel sent him even deeper, a delicious torture that she wished could last forever. “Please tell me if I hurt you.”
“Could never happen.” Knox cupped her hips, and together they worked their two bodies into sync. A slow grind turned into a frantic coupling that creaked the couch beneath them.
“Knox.” Zoey tossed her head back, her body beginning to quake.
“It’s all you, baby. Take it. Take me. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this.” Knox guided her hips, keeping up with her frantic pace. He palmed a breast, and flicking a hardened cloth-covered nipple with his thumb, sent her over the edge. “God, Zoey. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted you.”
His words could’ve meant anything.
Right now. The last twenty-four hours.
As Zoey’s orgasm tightened her body, Knox grew even harder inside of her with his own release. Grabbing her hips, he anchored her to him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through them, one immediately on top of the other until they were both breathless and panting.
A casual, no-strings sexual arrangement sounded great in theory.
But that theory had never been applied to Knox Steele.
He’d verified his timeline, again and again, not about to squander another opportunity. Everything was in clear working order, running smoothly just as he planned.
There was no turning back. There was no backpedaling. There was no second-guessing.
All that was left to do…was prepare.
He’d get to see Her again.
Soon.
Much sooner than even he expected.
Chapter
Twenty-One
Knox prided himself on sticking to his guns. No one could talk him into anything if he didn’t have half his mind already made to do it. Except, apparently, Roman. Forcing him into attending the DC Police Gala was just one in a string of ways that Ro used Knox’s lingering guilt to his advantage.
His tactics wouldn’t last forever. He wished they hadn’t worked this time.
Knox didn’t schmooze. Or gloat. And he sure as hell didn’t have spare money to throw into the DCPD.
There wasn’t a single person in the room who wasn’t dressed to the nines. A mellow song filtered through the speakers, echoing off the high walls and steep glass-covered ceiling. In the background, voices droned and silverware clinked as people enjoyed the lavish spread in front of them.
Knox navigated himself through the crowd, wishing more and more with each step that he was with Zoey rather than here. A night wasted in his eyes. And with them numbered, he wanted to take advantage of every one that he got.
Thinking about her small-print, mutual sexual arrangement was enough to curl his stomach into knots. But thinking about leaving DC took those damn knots and set them on fire.
Across the way, Cade stood with Hogan Wilcox, the old man no doubt using the event to once again convince his friend to jump on board with Steele Ops. He’d almost glanced over them. But Cade’s head snapping up at something Wilcox said put Knox on alert.
He’d seen his friend wear that face before. It was the one that showed up seconds before he lost his shit—which didn’t happen often. The two men argued heatedly, Cade’s hands flying around, before both stalked out the door. Together.
Knox followed his gut…and Cade.
He’d no sooner stepped onto the empty patio when Cade’s low growl reached his ears.
Knox followed the sound, turning the bend to find his friend mere inches from Wilcox’s face.
He didn’t know whom to defend—the older man about to get his ass kicked, or his friend who was about to do the kicking.
“Am I interrupting something?” Knox shoved his hands into his pockets, ready to intervene if necessary.
Wilcox released a small sigh, but it wasn’t relief. “We’re okay, Mr. Steele.”
“We are so fucking far from okay,” Cade snarled.
Knox’s presence did what he’d hoped. His friend took a small step back, but still remained within punching distance. “Do you know who this asshole is? You’re going to get a real kick out of it. Why don’t you go ahead and take a guess?”
“You mean other than a former Joint Chief of Staff?” His answer was meant to make Cade think before reacting. Wilcox wasn’t someone you wanted to piss off.
Cade’s burst of laughter didn’t hold a single ounce of humor. He shot a glare at Wilcox. “Do you want to reintroduce yourself or should I? No? Fine. Then I’ll do the honors. Knox, I want to introduce my bastard of a father who left his sick four-year-old daughter and eight-year-old son with strangers rather than fess up to fatherhood.”
Not much shocked Knox, but this did. “I don’t—”
“Understand? Yeah, neither did I until Hogan here used a phrase I remembered from forever ago…one my dear old dad used right before he walked out the door and never came back.”
Fists clenched at his side, Cade looked about to blow his top. “You took a big chance meeting me the other day, didn’t you, Dad? Did you cross your fingers and hope that my eight-year-old memory sucked? Well, congrats. It did.
“You want to know the twisted shit?” Cade glanced to Knox. “He’d kept tabs on us. Those were his words. He’d made sure we got the best possible caregiver—Gretchen—and was even the anonymous source that paid all Zoey’s medical bills. Wasn’t that nice of him, Knox? To make sure his daughter wasn’t bogged down with unsightly debt?”
“It’s not how you’re making it sound,” Wilcox said in his own defense.
“I don’t give a shit about your my family didn’t approve excuse. You left your children. Alone. And then you have the fucking gall to say that you provided for them behind the scenes. Screw. You.”
Cade pushed Wilcox out of the way and stalked toward the hotel.
“I only wanted the best for you and Zoey,” Wilcox called after him.
Cade wasn’t the only one who stopped. Hearing the jerk mention Zoey’s name rose Knox’s hackles. “You cared so much that you left her to rely on strangers? Handpicking Gretchen or not, that’s exactly what you did.”
Cade’s nostrils flared. “You just go ahead and keep your distance from Zoey. Do you hear me? We’ve made it this far without you, we’ll make it the rest of the way.”
“Cade, maybe you should—”
“No. The bastard doesn’t get to fuck up her head. She’s finally in a good spot. She’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her. Ever. I’m not telling her, or letting this bastard tell her, that he cared enough to fork over money, but he just didn’t care enough to introduce himself in person.”
Cade stormed away, leaving Knox alone with a now silent Wilcox.
“He has a right to be angry,” Wilcox began.
“Damn right he does. If Cade was any less of a man, you’d be using all that money of yours to find someone to reattach your jaw.”
“I know.” Wilcox glanced at his feet, a telling sight for an Army general.
“I don’t think you do. Cade sacrificed a lot to be there for Zoey when she was little—sacrifices that he’d make again. There isn’t a single one of us who wouldn’t do anything for her.”
Something lit up in Wilcox’s eyes. For the first time, Knox saw his best friend lying in their depths. “You care about her. My daughter.”
More than Knox had ever said aloud. And he sure as hell wasn’t saying it to him. “I may not agree with Cade’s decision to keep you from Zoey, but I agree to not letting you mess with her head. Tread carefully, Wilcox, or next time, I’m going to let Cade off his leash and Roman’s just going
to have to deal.”
Knox returned to the ballroom but unsurprisingly, didn’t see Cade anywhere. Wanting to be here even less than he did before, he tugged his cell from his jacket and brought Roman’s name up on his contact list.
Before he shot off a text announcing that he was leaving, a swatch of midnight blue caught his attention. Knox spotted Zoey immediately.
Her dress molded to her curves like a well-fitted glove, blue waves of fabric falling from the delicate clasp around her neck to the floor. But where her dress embraced the extra folds in front, it made up for it with its entirely backless rear.
Laughing at something Grace said, Zoey’s face lit up. The delicate strength of her body made him stop and pause. But that smile?
That smile stopped his breathing.
Zoey had tried everything in her power—and Cade’s—to get out of attending the police gala, but the commissioner’s department memo had been adamant. For everyone working on the Beltway Cupid Killer case, attendance is mandatory.
At least that meant she had Grace to commiserate with.
A woman clutching the arm of her older escort passed them by and looked down her sloped nose. Her gaze drifted from Zoey to Grace before silently labeling them as inconsequential and moving onward.
“I feel underdressed,” Zoey complained, gesturing to the golf-ball-sized pendant hanging around the woman’s neck.
“I’d rather be underdressed than look like I have a severe case of constipation. I mean look at her. All that weight must be locking her colon down nice and tight,” Grace murmured at Zoey’s side.
Zoey burst into laughter, earning them both a glare from the woman in question.
“What was the captain’s answer when you asked him about this attendance nonsense?” Grace questioned.
“He wanted a united front…and for the public to be able to put faces to the names of those striving to make our city safe.” Zoey pushed her glasses onto the bridge of her nose. “He went on, but I stopped listening after he said formal attire. The point he didn’t say, is that we’re to try and impress the people with fat wallets to let the moths out and put money into the DCPD.”
“Great.” Grace plastered a fake smile to her face. “So if someone comes up to me and asks what my roll with the DCPD is, I guess I shouldn’t say that I’m the federal agent who can’t get an accurate read on this bastard.”
Zoey tugged on her friend’s arm. “You’re human, Grace. Not a magician. Did you seriously expect to be able to point us in the right direction within five minutes?”
“Truthfully? Yeah. I didn’t think I’d be stuck here for weeks.” At Zoey’s diminished smile, she added, “You know what I mean, Zo. I love you. I love my cousins and Cindy. I even love DC. But unfortunately, those aren’t the memories that are the loudest in my head when I’m here.”
“I know.” Zoey pulled Grace into a hug, avoiding a collision of their champagne glasses. “And once we nab our guy, you’ll be off to nail the next sicko.”
“From your mouth to my supervisor’s ears.” Grace blew out a breath and scanned the room. She subtly jabbed her in the side. “Isn’t that your doctor?”
Zoey followed her gaze and immediately recognized Dr. Samuel. He’d shed his surfer look and doctor’s coat and donned a smart black tux much like the other men in attendance. And he wasn’t alone.
Knox’s ex dropped a flirty hand onto his arm and laughed at something he said.
“Wasn’t he some kind of child prodigy? It seems to me that a genius would see right through the scales.” Grace released a little sigh. “Why can’t I be attracted to sweet, wholesome doctors? Or predictable insurance brokers? Or intelligent college professors?”
Zoey chuckled. “Because you’re allergic to sweet, steady, and reliable. It’s why you can’t get Cade out of your system.”
“Freakin’ allergies,” Grace mumbled.
“You need a tissue, Gracie?” Knox’s voice teased over their shoulders.
Zoey spun around just in time to witness Knox’s gaze sliding over her in a casual caress. “What are you doing here?”
He smirked. “Hello to you, angel. You look gorgeous tonight.”
From him, the words weren’t a social nicety. She bit her lip before telling him the same. Knox in jeans and a T-shirt was enough to make her drool. Knox in a tux, his dark hair brushing his collar, threw fuel into every woman’s billionaire fantasy.
“What are you doing here?” Grace asked. “This isn’t exactly your kind of scene.”
“Tell me about it. This is just Roman’s new tactic to torture me.” He tossed a quick look around the room. “He’s here somewhere…unless he ditched my ass, which wouldn’t surprise me in the least.”
“You don’t strike me as someone who’s easily taken by surprise at all, Mr. Steele.” An older man came up on Knox’s left. He stuck out his hand, first to Grace, then to her. “Judging by the beauty in this corner of the room, the two of you must be Grace Steele and Zoey Wright.”
If Zoey wasn’t her brother’s sister, she would’ve missed Knox stiffening as she shook the new arrival’s hand. “Have we met before?”
“Only in passing conversations, my dear. But I have met your brother, and may I say that you’re infinitely more pleasant.” He held on to Zoey’s hand a little longer before introducing himself. “Hogan Wilcox.”
“Do you know Cade from the Army?”
Hogan Wilcox looked a little surprised. “You pegged me as an Army man? What gave it away? The short hair? I keep telling myself I’m going to let it grow, and yet I’m back at the barber shop every four weeks.”
“It was a hunch. You remind me of my brother. And Knox. And all of the Steeles. It’s something about the way you fill a room. It’s not bad.”
“I didn’t take it as such.” Hogan Wilcox smiled, which compared to some of the others flashing around the room, seemed sincere.
Knox stepped close and tipped his chin toward the dance floor. “Want to take a spin?”
Zoey startled at the abrupt switch in conversation, and his sudden dark tone. “You want to dance? Now? Here?”
“Is that a yes?”
She contemplated telling him no, not until he worked on his people skills. But something in his eyes and the way he refused to look at the man next to him had her swallowing her words.
“Guess I’m dancing. Do you mind?” She handed her champagne flute to Grace.
Knox took Zoey’s hand and led her onto the middle of the floor. He slid his arms around her waist and tucked her snugly against him. “That’s much better. I’d rather be alone and holding you, but this is a close second.”
The hard look he’d worn a few seconds ago was gone, replaced by the man she’d gotten to know better these last few weeks. He rocked their bodies into a slow sway that couldn’t exactly be considered dancing. His hand, resting low on her bare back, gently caressed her skin. The touch sparked a slow burning heat and sent her hands up the length of his chest until she felt his heart beating steadily beneath her palms.
“Since when do you dance?” She peered up at him, and easily lost herself to the dark twinkle in his eyes.
“Since I get to do it with a beautiful woman in my arms.”
“Riiiiiiight. And it didn’t have anything to do with Mr. Wilcox?”
Knox’s jaw flexed.
“Ah. So it does have something to do with him. What’s wrong? He seems like a nice enough guy.”
“Don’t know him too well.”
“But enough to look as though you wanted to send a fist through his face.” Zoey waited for him to say something.
“He’s the wallet that Roman used to help start up Steele Ops.”
“So if he’s one of the good guys, why break out your caveman club?”
He smirked. “I want to dance with you and you call me a caveman? I’m hurt.”
“Somehow I think your feelings will remain intact. Evade all you want, Knox Steele. But I call bullshit.” His brow cocked up at her w
ord choice, making her chuckle.
“Careful now, Miss Wright. Keep swearing like a sailor the way you have been and I’m going to start thinking that you’re not the sweet, innocent woman that I once believed you were.”
She opened her mouth to make a very un-innocent retort, but he took her in a quick spin. Head tilting back, she laughed as butterflies swarmed her stomach. “Your brothers lift me up. You make my head twirl. You Steeles like living dangerously.”
“Some things are worth the little bit of danger.” Knox grinned. “So I make your head twirl, huh? I hope that’s a good thing.”
“Definitely.” But when they came to a slow stop, Zoey’s head continued to spin. Her fingers latched tightly on to Knox’s arms.
He held her flush against his chest. “Whoa there, angel. You okay?”
She took a few deep breaths in an attempt to shrug it off. “Yeah. No. I’m fine. Just a little light-headed there for a second.”
He didn’t look convinced. “You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine. Honest.” The longer they remained still, the better she felt. “But I am going to use the ladies’ room.”
He took a step as if to follow.
She patted him apologetically on the chest. “Sorry, big guy, but a girl’s got to do this business on her own.”
“I’ll be right here when you’re done.”
She nodded and left him standing to the side of the dance floor. The tingle on the back of her neck told her he watched her until she left the ballroom.
Surprisingly, there wasn’t a line for the restroom. She slipped inside, glad to find it empty, and wetted a paper towel. She’d pressed it to her forehead as the door opened.
Francine, decked out in a slinky gold dress and heels that could probably pierce a man’s heart, stepped inside.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the hometown sweetheart,” Francine said in a singsong voice. “Out playing dress-up with the adults tonight?”
“Hello, Fran. And goodbye.” Zoey reached the door.