by RC Boldt
I hasten my steps to catch up to her and reach out to open her door. Her eyes flicker to mine briefly before she mutters a subdued, “Thank you.”
The way she moves, slipping her briefcase onto to the passenger seat of her car, the way the fabric of her dress stretches over her hips and molds her perfect ass, nearly elicits a groan from deep within me.
Running a hand down my face, I pinch my eyes closed briefly, attempting to regain composure.
“You don’t have far to go, do you?”
Her question is odd, the slight hint of expectation in her tone. Regarding her carefully, I tip my head in the direction of my truck, the black GMC a few yards away.
“My truck’s right over there.”
Surely you recognize it, considering how many times you rode in it, a voice whispers internally. Considering how many times you rode me in it.
Fuck.
Emma Jane fidgets with her keys before offering me an overly bright smile. “Well, thanks for all your help. Have a good night.”
“Night.”
She slides inside her car, and I push her door closed, then step back as she starts the engine. With a small wave, I turn and head over to my truck. It takes every single ounce of willpower to resist turning back, to resist the urge to look behind me.
Though I succeed, as I fasten my seat belt, put my truck in gear, and exit the parking deck, I can practically feel my willpower eroding at an alarming rate.
KNOX
HIGH SCHOOL
TENTH GRADE
“Knox,” she protests breathlessly.
“I can’t help it.” I tug her closer as we lie back on the tailgate of my truck, snuggled in the large sleeping bag to ward off the slight chill in the night air. “I love kissing you.” I dust another soft kiss over her lips. “Almost as much,” I break off for another kiss and whisper, “as I love you.”
Hesitantly, I lean back to peer down at her. My chest is painfully tight as I try to gauge her reaction.
It’s been six months since she first agreed to go night fishing with me and we’ve basically been inseparable ever since. I walk her to class; she always waits for me to finish baseball practice, doing her homework as she sits in the bleachers when the weather permits.
Her eyes are wide and her lips, rosy from my kisses, part slightly. “Oh, Knox,” she sighs.
“Is that an ‘Oh, Knox, I love you, too’? Or an ‘Oh, Knox, you’re an idiot’?” I prod, attempting to inject teasing into my voice.
The corners of her mouth tug upward, and with agonizing slowness, her lips form a smile.
“I love you, too.” Her gently spoken words wash over me and a whoosh of relieved breath escapes from my lips.
Resting my forehead against hers, I let my eyes fall closed. “I love you so much, EJ.”
She presses her mouth to mine and we get lost in the kiss, falling captive to the powerful euphoria of our love.
And I know deep within my soul that this girl is mine forever.
13
Emma Jane
PRESENT
“Beck,” I complain, cradling my phone between my shoulder and cheek as I enter my condo. I quickly slip off my heels before setting my briefcase down on the dining room chair. “You said you wouldn’t buy me another dress.”
“I couldn’t resist ordering it. Plus, it’s for a good cause. You know I always go to the Mayo Clinic’s fundraiser gala.”
With a sigh, I shake my head. “You really need to find a girlfriend.”
“Who needs a real girlfriend when I have you? You nag me enough that I feel like I have one,” he jokes.
I roll my eyes. “Very funny.”
Becket’s tone sobers. “You know the Mayo Clinic’s important for me.”
“I know,” I reply softly. He’d lost his mother to ovarian cancer years ago and the Mayo Clinic here in Jacksonville went above and beyond in helping to give Mrs. Jones more time with her sons before she finally succumbed to the disease.
“What’s the date so I can mark it in my planner?”
I pull out the thick booklet, flipping to the designated month as Becket informs me, and jot down a quick reminder. As I slide the planner back inside my briefcase, a soft knock sounds at my door.
It’s late, nearly eight thirty at night. “Becket?” I hiss quietly.
“Blue?” comes his exaggerated whispered response, laced with humor.
“Someone just knocked on my door,” I whisper because while the management of these condos claim these units are “soundproof,” they are not. At least not entirely.
“So check and see who it is.” Becket hurriedly adds, “Through the peephole, of course.”
I pad across the sleek hardwood floor to approach the door, and lift to my toes to peer through the peephole.
And my entire body freezes, my heartbeat stuttering.
Knox Montgomery is on the other side.
Spinning around, my hand flies to my chest, palm flat over where my heart is pounding. “Becket!”
“Why do you keep whispering my name?” His voice is tinged with humor. “Are you trying to upgrade to friends with benefits?”
“Stop!” I hiss, rushing away to put more distance between myself and the door. I whirl around to stare at it in horror when another knock sounds. “He’s here. At my door.” I swallow hard and my anxiety increases when Becket doesn’t immediately offer a response.
“I’m assuming I know who he is.”
“You do.”
“Huh,” is all he says for a moment. “Well, I can tell you one thing for sure.”
The mischief in his tone is evident and has me preparing for an eye roll.
“And what’s that?”
“He ain’t a Jehovah’s Witness wanting to talk about Jesus, nor is he deliverin’ a welcome casserole or—”
Yes, I was right. Eye roll. “I got it.”
“So open the door.”
“But what does he—”
This time Becket cuts me off. “Well, Blue, when a man likes a woman—”
“I’m hanging up now.”
I receive his husky laugh in response before he quickly utters a soft, “Blue, be careful, okay? Unfinished business can be tricky.”
“I will,” I utter softly. “Love you, Beck.”
“Right back atcha.”
I end the call and toss my phone on the couch just as another knock sounds on my door, this one softer, seemingly more tentative, almost half-hearted.
My feet carry me soundlessly to the door, and one hand grasps the cool metal of the door handle. My hand reaches up to unlock the deadbolt, and I cautiously open the door a crack.
My stomach gives that little lurch when I see him standing before me, still wearing the same clothes from earlier, perfectly tailored suit pants and button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His dark hair appears mussed as though he’s run his hands through it multiple times.
Emerald eyes lock with mine. “EJ.”
I lean against the doorjamb, not opening the door fully, curious as to why he’s here.
Scared as hell as to why he might be here.
“Knox.” My voice comes out wispy, slightly breathless sounding.
He drags a hand through his hair and shoves the other into his pocket. Shaking his head, he briefly glances down at his shoes before his eyes return to me.
“I don’t know why I’m here…no.” He shakes his head again with a deprecating quirk of his lips. “That’s a lie. I know why I’m here.”
His expression sobers, and his gaze, laden with barely veiled heat that radiates through me, nearly singes me with its intensity. “It’s because there’s still something here.” He waves a hand, gesturing back and forth between us. “Something powerful and I don’t know what it is, but for some reason I just need…” The urgency in his tone fades, and I find myself holding my breath, waiting for him to conclude his thought. There’s a beat of silence before he finishes, and his tone is husky, holding a heartfelt tenderness. “Y
ou.” He swallows hard, his eyes searching. “I need you.”
Vulnerability lines his features as he waits for my response.
My words feel like they’re lodged in my throat, so unsure whether I heard him correctly. Finally, I manage to speak and repeat his words with a questioning lilt at the end. “You need me?”
Slowly, he dips his head in a nod, his eyes locked with mine. “Yes.”
“What about”—I break off with a slow exhale—“our…” Past, I silently tack on.
Knox steps closer and lays a palm against the doorframe. “I don’t care.” He leans in, bringing his lips a hairbreadth away from mine. “I just want you.”
My eyes flicker between his lips and those green eyes, which watch me with intensity while I war with myself internally. Every part of me wants to give in, but a fraction of one. There’s one part that continues in a standoff.
My heart. The one he shattered years ago.
The funny thing about the heart is that even it can be conflicting, because there’s a tug-of-war happening within mine. One part vividly recalls Knox’s betrayal and the pain he inflicted, while the other recalls just how much I loved him.
Startling Knox, I launch myself at him, flinging my arms around his neck. I tug him to me, and my lips collide with his in a tempestuously feverish kiss.
And it’s clear which part of my heart won the battle.
14
Knox
The moment seems to drag on for an eternity, watching various emotions flicker across her face while I wait for her response.
She’s going to kick me to the curb, I know it. I shouldn’t have come here. Shit, I sure as hell shouldn’t have turned pseudo-stalker and gotten her address from her personnel file.
But I did, and there’s no turning back now.
Just as I’m mentally trying to figure out a way to save face and determine how I’ll make it through work days with her, she completely stuns me when she wraps her arms around me, tugs me close, and kisses me.
The second our lips meet, all bets are off. Neither of us hold back.
My hands thread through her silky hair, and I use the slight leverage to tilt her head to the side and deepen the kiss. I walk her backward, farther inside, and kick the door closed behind us.
She steers me back against the door and her hands are all over me. They graze along my shoulders, her palms gliding down the firm wall of my chest before slipping around to grip my ass—as if she’s as overwhelmed with a fierce desperation to touch me, to revel in the feel of me again, as I am her.
I tug her closer and skim a hand down her body before slipping my fingers beneath the hem of her dress to toy with the thin strap of her thong at her hip.
When I rock my hardened length against her and she releases a tiny moan, this spurs me on as our tongues slide and stroke against one another, taking part in their own carnal war. I shift my hand to the front of her panties, and when I find them damp with her arousal, it sends another sharp burst of desire radiating through me.
Tearing my lips from hers, I trail wet kisses along the slim column of her neck as I slip a finger beneath the damp fabric of her thong, dipping inside her wet heat.
Holy shit. She’s drenched, coating my finger as I work it in and out of her. I add a second, and her hands grasp my shoulders, clutching tightly as she throws her head back. Her lips part, her breath rushing out in tiny pants.
Looking down at her like this, my chest constricts. Her eyes flutter open. She peers up at me for a moment, and I can see the haze of lust ebb slightly. My movements still as I watch her, her teeth nibbling at the corner of her bottom lip, illustrating her sudden nervousness.
“Knox? Are you sure about this?”
I know what unspoken question she’s posing.
But don’t you hate me?
Right now, I’m sure about this. More sure than I’ve been about anything. Even if it’s the dumbest fucking thing I do and will probably set me back in getting over her and finally moving past what she did. All I know is I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to go back to my place alone.
I don’t want to pass up the chance to have one more moment like this with her.
As for her unspoken question, I don’t know how she can’t fathom just how impossible that is. Because even after everything that’s transpired, one thing is certain.
I could never hate the only woman I’ve been able to picture as my wife.
I withdraw the hand that’s threaded through the hair at her nape and move my palm to cradle the side of her face. My eyes lock with hers, and as I graze my thumb over her full bottom lip, I don’t break eye contact.
“I’m sure.” I search her expression. “Are you?”
I hold my breath, waiting for her answer. “I’m sure…” She averts her gaze, focusing on my lips. “Because it’s a one-time thing.”
Her eyes flicker up to mine, as if awaiting my reaction, my response, to affirm her statement.
A one-time thing. Although her words weren’t spoken in a callous manner, they send shards of unease rolling through me.
“Right,” I agree hollowly.
Her lips curve upward slightly, and she places both palms flat against my chest. Rising to her tiptoes, she presses a kiss to the side of my throat, near the base, and I suddenly feel my knees grow weak.
Long ago, she used to do that when we’d make love because she knew it was my “spot.”
I flash a mischievous grin. “You didn’t just do that.”
Her smile widens, those beautiful eyes sparkling, as she taunts, “Oh, but I did.”
“That’s it.” I bend slightly and scoop her up, tossing her over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and revel in the little squeal she lets out. “You’re playing with fire, and now you’ve got to pay the price.” I punctuate this with a swat of her ass as I head down her hallway, finding what I assume is her bedroom.
“Knox!” she exclaims with a mixture of surprise and amusement.
Entering the room, I walk to the bed. The soft light from the moon cascading in through the small slats in the venetian blinds sets the room alight with a soft glow.
Gently laying her back on the bed, I quickly rid myself of my shoes and climb onto the bed to brace myself above her on my forearms.
I reach out to slide some stray strands of hair away from her face, and she peers up at me with a tender quality I hadn’t realized I missed.
Dipping my head, I dust a light kiss across the bridge of her nose before I do the same to her lips. It’s a soft, tender kiss; our lips graze against one another in a languid caress.
We continue like this until finally, her palms press against my chest, drawing me to a stop. My eyebrows arch in question.
She doesn’t respond. Instead, she guides me to shift off her. Once I’m lying on my back, she straddles me, her fingers instantly going to work on the buttons of my shirt.
Her eyes take on a playful glint. “You won’t be needing this.”
My hands glide up her legs, bunching the material of her dress to bare her thighs and slide it up her body. She pauses in her task, raising her arms to rid herself of the fabric, leaving it to drop to the floor beside the bed.
And promptly robs me of my breath.
The black bra encasing her breasts has a lace border along the top edge, and when I finally manage to tear my eyes away to admire her stomach and lower, a laugh erupts from me.
Her panties are hot pink and have “I’m a badass on Fridays” printed on them.
She appears confused before looking down once she realizes what’s caught my attention. With a slightly sheepish smile, she tips her head to the side. “Well, I kinda was today.”
“Indeed, you were.”
I drag my index finger between the hollow of her breasts and down the center of her flat stomach, then lower to toy with the waistband of her panties.
“I don’t think we’ll be needing these.”
“You first.” She tugs at the sleeve of my now un
buttoned shirt. I carefully lift and she helps rid me of it.
“And these”—a smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she rises to her knees, still straddling me, and unfastens my belt—“pants are completely unnecessary, too.” Unbuttoning them, she glides the zipper down before gripping the waistband of my pants. “Lift up.”
Her simple command sends a surge of arousal rushing through me, and I oblige, allowing her to remove my pants with my socks following suit, both joining our other clothes on the floor.
“I suddenly feel very underdressed.” With one hand, I reach around to unclasp her bra.
“Still have that skill, huh?” Her eyes question me, though her tone is playful, recalling how I’d mastered it with her.
“Still have it.”
Only with you, part of me wants to add.
Something shifts in the depths of her cerulean gaze, as if she wants to ask that same thing, as if she’s wondering how many times I’ve exhibited this “skill” with other women. But I don’t want that tonight. Don’t want the past rearing its ugly head. I only want this moment.
Sliding the straps of her bra down her arms, I discard it and cup the weight of her breasts in my palms, reveling in the feel of her nipples tightening. When she arches her body to press more fully into my touch, something deep inside me snaps.
With one hand on her back, I guide her to lower herself, and I lift slightly, enabling my mouth to latch onto one of her nipples. I lave it with my tongue, suckling it, while I toy with her other nipple, gently plucking her hardened peak between my thumb and forefinger. Her fingers sift through my hair, tightening their grip of the short strands with a feverish desperation.
“Knox,” she breathes out, her eyes fluttering closed as she rocks herself against me. I’m unable to resist a groan as I switch to her other nipple and suckle it. “That feels so good,” she whispers.
Watching her unabashedly, I release her nipple from my lips, taking in her beauty. Then I drag my lips against her collarbone and murmur, “It’ll feel so much better once I push inside that wet pussy while I suck on your nipples.”