“You’re a real couple of bookends.”
He points across the hall. “Guest bathroom.”
“Guest bathroom? As in you have two all to yourself?”
“Don’t forget Fish.”
“Oh my God.” I step inside my newfound nirvana, but it’s not the gorgeous marble countertop that has me unable to catch my breath. It’s the freestanding clawfoot tub that I hear singing out my name. “Oh, sweet baby Jesus.” I fall to my knees in front of it in a blatant act of worship. “Oh, the bath bombs I could launch in you!”
“The what?” he honks, affronted as if bath bomb were code for a bodily malfunction.
“A bubble bath, you moron.” I give the tub a hearty embrace and groan as I envision all of the lovely books I could read while snuggled in its sturdy iron arms.
“I’m not the one having a religious experiment with a bathtub.”
“Fine.” I let him help me to my feet, and his warm hand sends a quick jolt right up my arm, down my ribcage, and straight to those wild rivers that seem to be rushing for him.
Ugh! I hate that I’m wound tighter than a two-dollar watch. I need to unleash, and quick. I’m back to eyeing the tub. “You wouldn’t mind if I took a bath sometime, would you? I mean, I am letting you suck face whenever you feel the need.” I leer at him, hoping he might suddenly feel the need.
Gah! What the hell am I saying? Do not let Knox Toberman suck your face! Not without the proper audience, of course. I’ll have to kick my own ass if I fall victim to those perfect bowtie lips. For a moment, they mesmerize me.
“Follow me before this gets weird.” He leads me out and to another spare bedroom—this one laden with a desk and printer, a bookshelf with actual books lining the racks, and I’m more than impressed. “And then there’s my room.” He leads me to the last room, the master with its huge expansive wingspan, its en suite bathroom.
“Wow, you are really living high on the luxury hog. I think you lucked out ending up with the cat.”
A dark laugh strums from him. “I happen to agree.”
I step over to the enormous bed sitting right on the floor, the way God intended, and lie over it, spreading my arms wide as I swing them back and forth. “So, this is where the magic happens?”
“Nope. Not yet anyway.” He makes a face and looks cuttingly gorgeous. I swear, scowling just makes him look that much hotter. “Jen and I never. I mean, I just moved in last week, so—”
“Oh.” I hop off, suddenly fearing for the fact I could have been lounging around on her ho drippings. “I’m glad. Or I’d have to help you burn it.”
He pushes out a quiet smile, but that pained look in his eyes says it all. “Do you really think they?” He lets the question hang there without finishing it. But he doesn’t have to. I wouldn’t want to either.
“Who cares?” I shudder at the thought as if maybe I do. “Hey! I know what we can do. Let’s raid that behemoth fridge of yours. I’m starved.”
He grimaces at the thought. “We can raid it all we want, but it will still be empty. I’ve yet to hit the store.”
“Then let’s do it.” I give a weak shrug. “I mean, that’s what couples do, right? And at least that way we’ll be seen in public. It’s a start. I know for a fact Justin still follows all of my social media accounts—not to mention the fact he’s been psychotically updating his.” I don’t bother telling Knox about the fireside selfie with the two of them obnoxiously cuddled in one another’s arms. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was the real deal. But after hearing Jen’s little step-off-my-man speech, I’m pretty sure it’s not.
“I got it.” Knox pulls me to the bed and rumples the comforter before patting a spot next to him.
“You really are a genius.” I lie next to him and mess my hair up with my fingers a bit before laying my head over the warmth of this bare-naked chest. My insides pinch with a heat of their own as the heady scent of his spiced cologne infiltrates my senses. My ear touches his flesh, skin-to-skin, and my body drinks down the wild, pulsating sensation. And then, as if someone flipped on a switch, his heart gives a heavy wallop. One after the other, like some dark gong echoing in rhythm, it beats throughout his body. I hold up my phone in front of us. “Say revenge!”
“Revenge,” he growls it out low and primal, and that tender spot between my thighs quivers uncontrollably with something just this side of ecstasy.
It looks like Knox was wrong.
There is still plenty of magic happening on his bed.
Knox drives us down to Hollow Brook Farms, an upscale market less than a mile from his home. No sooner do we get inside than I check my status—all the likes are up, and several of my sisters have publicly declared they’re happy I’ve moved on. Both Ava and Lucky give a thumbs-up before sending a group text that says nothing more than WTF?
But I put my phone away for now. I’m in a grocery store that specializes in all things gourmet. Plus, they’re notorious for giving away the best samples at the end of every single aisle. A win-win if you ask me.
“Technically, this will be our first dinner date since I plan to load up on all the freebies I can,” I say as he pulls a cart from the queue.
“I’d say you sound like a cheap date, but I have a feeling this place is about to set me back a notch.” He gives a quick wink.
“I’ll go in halves with you. We should probably keep things Dutch anyway, you know, not to muddy the waters too much.”
“I think it’s pretty safe to say the waters are pretty muddy at this point. And don’t worry. I’ve got this. Despite the fact my father lost his shirt, my trust fund came out unscathed.”
“Ooh, a fellow trust fund baby!” I give a little hop. “It turns out we have more in common than I first thought. My father is a real estate magnet in New York. He owns properties around the country as well.” I shrug it off as if it were no big billion-dollar deal. “His wealth doesn’t define me, though. I won’t let it. I’ve seen what it’s done to him and my mother.”
“Are they still together?” Knox looks hopeful as if this might be good news, and trust me, it would have been.
“Nope. They bit the dust ages ago. I guess that’s why I tried to hang onto Justin long after I probably should have kicked him to the curb. I just wanted something solid that would last. It seems to work for everyone else. Maybe my family is just jinxed that way.”
He pauses a moment in front of the organic bananas and I pop a small bunch into the cart.
“That’s exactly how I felt. My parents not getting along came out of nowhere, and before I knew it, my mother was being carted off to prison.”
I freeze with my hand out just as I’m about to squeeze a tomato.
“It’s a long story.” He shakes it off. “Anyway they’re divorced and I’m not dwelling on it. I guess that whole happily ever after thing is just for fairytales.”
“I guess you’re right.” Suddenly, I’m far too dejected to squeeze anything set before me.
“How about we forget all about love and exes and the horror stories from our past and just go crazy trying to satisfy our appetite? As in food.” I glare at him a moment. Just because he’s wounded doesn’t change the fact he’s a guy with a very real time bomb between his legs that needs to go off routinely as a part of its maintenance.
His cheek slides up one side, sly and seductive, as if he’s just read my thoughts. “Sounds like a deal.”
We drop all of the organic veggies and fruits into the cart that we can before we end up staring at the wall of magical pleasure otherwise known as the cheese aisle.
“You simply don’t get a variety like this at the tiny supermarket they’ve jammed in the corner of the bookstore,” I say, picking up a golden piece of Gouda and taking in its heavenly smoky scent. “You know—I consider myself a flexible vegan. I’d go all the way, but I can’t seem to commit due to my love for all things curdled. Does Gouda sound gouda to you?”
He makes a face. “Now that’s a cheesy one-liner.”
He takes the brick of cheese from me. “Are you kidding? I love this stuff on toasted sourdough—San Francisco style, of course. And I don’t mind it sprinkled on my margherita pizza, either.”
“Finally, a man who speaks my language—formaggio to be exact.” We head to the frozen aisle and find all kinds of gluten-free vegan pizzas—which we shall soon corrupt with all things Gouda. “Oh my God.” I yank a box from the shelf. “This one has been blessed with truffles!”
“Truffles?” Knox lets out a guttural groan as if he’s craved the fungus all his life. “We’d better get six boxes just to be safe.”
“God, I love you.”
Knox and I sail from aisle to aisle, experiencing food porn like never before, moaning and groaning, filling up our cart with the yummiest, and dare I say priciest treats known to man. “What should we get to drink?” I ask as we eye the beautifully shaped bottles in a rainbow of pastels that adorn the beverage aisle.
“Pellegrino,” we say in unison and share a quick laugh.
“You’re a food snob and I love it,” I say, loading us up with six bottles.
He steps in close, warming me with his body heat, and his eyes settle over mine as if there was no place else they’d rather be. Knox purses those lips and accidentally sets off an entire throng of butterflies in my stomach. Funny, I don’t ever remember Justin setting off anything in my stomach other than nausea.
“How do you feel about caviar?” he says it low and husky, and about ten different girls in the vicinity sigh in unison.
“Are you kidding?” I swear on all that is holy, I almost just replicated that mini orgasm I had on his bed right here in front of God and S. Pellegrino. “Hell yes, I love it. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I nod toward the refrigerated section once again.
“Let’s do it. We just had the most miserable week of our lives. I say we deserve a little treat.”
We find a small variety of tiny bottles the shape and size of a silver dollar and settle on the mid-priced brand that features sturgeon. And both Knox and I groan as I place it into the cart.
“I can practically taste the beautiful salty goodness popping over my tongue.” I take a step in close to him and a hand interjects itself between us.
“You kids gotta try this!” An elderly woman who looks generically like everyone’s grandma hands us each a piece of dark candy in a cup. “Caramel roasted in creamy Dutch chocolate, not too sweet, and just a hint of salt to finish it off. It’s from Belgium!” Her eyes grow wide and she says Belgium as if it were Mars. “First time in the states this week!” she beams before heading off to a crowd of girls coming up behind us. Knox and I waste no time popping the delectable fudgy treat into our mouths, and we let out another choir of groans as we let the chocolaty goodness melt in our mouth.
“So freaking good,” he moans through his words. His lids hang low as if he were loaded, and for a second it looks as if all of his lust is directed at me.
A hard moan rips from me as I get lost in those candy blue eyes of his. “We’ll have to get a box for sure.”
“Salty and sweet”—his Adam’s apple swings up and down as he sears his gaze over my features—“with just enough notes of dark chocolate to finish it off.”
“Dark notes.” I nod as I step in close to him, and before I know it, his chest is pressed close to mine. I can feel the heat emanating off his body like a forest fire, those eyes of his hood even lower as if he was staring down his next sweet treat. And both Sylvia and I sort of hope he is.
“So very good,” I pant as my eyes magnetize to his lips. God knows I’ve been craving another delicious bite ever since that night at the Black Bear. “You know, I recognize some of the people here from school.” I swallow hard, embarrassed to go any further with the implication.
He glances to our left. “Those are Jen’s friends.” He nods as if totally onboard with what needs to happen next.
“Really?” A prickling of excitement runs through me, and suddenly I’m alert, alive, awake, making everything that came before this moment seem like a sleepy dream. “Then by all means, we should give them something to report.” That tiny twat and her empty threats come back to me. Honestly, if she ever kissed these lips, why would she leave them?
“I think maybe you’re right.” His arms find a home around my waist and my body electrifies to life. “Maybe we should give them something to talk about.”
Knox comes in close, his lids growing ever so heavy, closing his eyes at the last possible moment.
My heart drums up to my throat, because dear God, THIS IS HAPPENING!
His mouth glides over mine and a searing heat rips through my body, hot as a furnace, and in that instance, I know it’s real. Knox’s kisses are electric, mandatory for a healthy long life, sexually healing in the very best way. His tongue slips into my mouth, soft and tender at first, and then in a moment we’re probing, tasting the chocolate goodness still coating one another’s mouth, licking it down as if it were our very last meal. Knox digs his fingers into the back of my hair and pushes our mouths together, harder, far more demanding, far more passionate than anything we shared at the Black Bear. And just like that, the impossible happens. Knox Toberman’s kisses are like fine wine that just get better with time. They highlight the fact I have never really been kissed before, not like this, not in any way that mattered. I should pen both Janelle and Justin a thank you note for landing me in the only arms I ever want to be in—Knox Toberman’s.
Knox
Harper Shelton’s mouth is North Carolina’s best-kept secret.
If I didn’t think that first kiss at the Black Bear could get any better, I was wrong. Scratch that. I was fucking wrong. Just the feel of her soft little tongue probing my mouth made me hard. Not a good look for the grocery store. We hit the register and I insist on picking up the astronomical bill. But who am I kidding? This is better food than I’ve eaten in a year. The food of my youth, caviar and expensive cheeses. I can’t wait to get home and feast, and judging by those lusty groans Harper keeps throwing when she looks at the cart, she’s feeling the very same way.
We wheel our cart full of treasures right out the door, and no sooner do we hit the night air than I see it from across the parking lot.
Just when I didn’t think Harper Shelton could get any more perfect, we both freeze in our tracks at the glowing neon sign blinking on and off in the window of the Silver Spoon Restaurant and Bakery. All fresh baked pies half off!
“Oh my shit,” Harper whispers.
“The sign doesn’t lie.” I toss the groceries into the cab of the truck and we head on over.
The inside of the Silver Spoon is crowded, with the bakery humming with hungry people just waiting to get their hands on the fresh baked goodness.
“My God, what a paradise we’ve stumbled upon!” Harper manically peruses the selections. “Fruit pies, cream pies, specialty pies, cheesecake pies!” She looks up at me, and I’m stunned at how cuttingly gorgeous she is. Harper can easily be a supermodel if she wanted. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she is one. “Have we died and gone to heaven?”
“If your definition of heaven consists of a variety of half-priced pies, then yes, we have very much arrived.” A part of me wants to tell her she belongs here. She looks like an angel.
“Yes.” She pushes in close to my chest as we wait for our number to be called. “So, how many do we want to get?”
I step back with a laugh and reflexively my arm swivels around her waist. “I’m glad you asked how many and not which one.” My affect darkens as I glance to the selection. “Janelle hated pies, so we never did this.”
“What?” Her hands land over my chest as her eyes fill with outrage. “Only soulless people don’t like pie! Everybody loves pie. There’s a pie for every person on this planet. What’s not to love?”
“I feel the exact same way.” My hand drops lower without meaning to and I accidentally graze her bottom. “Sorry.” I hold my arms up a moment.
“D
on’t be.” She reaches up and places my hands square on her hips. “I think we should take advantage of every public moment with a display of affection.” Her bottom lip tugs down a moment. “Even if it is false. I mean, it couldn’t hurt, right?”
“No.” I take a step in and fall into her marbled green-brown eyes. “It couldn’t hurt.” But a pain sears through my chest like maybe it might.
They call our number and we load up on five pies, no thanks to some last-minute indecisiveness.
We climb into the truck and laugh all the way home at our culinary haul. Harper and I unload the groceries in less than three trips. She lines the pies up along the island while I set out our edible treasures for us to inspect.
“Where do we start?” I ask as I step back beside her.
“How about we throw a pizza into the oven, and while that’s cooking, we enjoy some caviar and sparkling water?”
A smile twitches on my lips. Harper Shelton has a body that looks like it was designed by Ferrari and a mind that perfectly meshes with my own. If I didn’t know better, I’d say fate just threw me the ideal woman.
“Sounds like the perfect start to the perfect evening.” We put away the rest of the groceries and I pull out a couple of champagne flutes Trixie gave me.
“I’ll grab the cheese and crackers—the caviar, of course.”
“I’ve got the fake bubbly.” I hold up the green bottle and glasses as we head over to the sofa. I flip on the TV, not really paying attention to where it lands, and both Harper and I sit so close our legs are touching.
“You do this often?” She hands me the caviar, and I pop it open before pouring us each a glass full of sparkling goodness.
“Only on days that end in Y.” I touch my glass to hers, and the sound of the crystal chiming makes Fish look up from his slumber.
“You wish.” She hands me a cracker, and we both dip into the tiny reserve of sturgeon eggs. “On three.” Her lips part, revealing that glossy pink tongue of hers, and my mouth waters on cue. “Three.”
Revenge Kisses (3:AM Kisses Book 14) Page 8