Chapter 7 Lucy
LUCY
“Here.”
I startled out of my daydream—or nightmare, more like. Dad disappointed in me, Cordelia rolling her eyes, and even the distant possibility of Omma’s face if she saw the painting I’d finished for Mr. Vender’s exhibit.
“This isn’t you, Lucy,” she told me, sadness in her eyes. “Why would you do this?”
I cleared my throat and shook my head, trying to rid myself of all three of them, and of what the news outlets would say if I bombed this exhibit.
I found Knox standing beside me, two plates in hand. Each one had a grilled cheese sandwich, cut in half, with some type of meat sticking out between the slices.
“Knox?” I frowned. “I thought you had to go?”
Knox raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a pitiful smile. “I did. And I’m back now, but you’re still at your easel.”
He nodded to the window behind my easel, and I gasped.
It was dark, the sun gone, the moon risen, and the lights of the city illuminating the streets.
“What time is it?”
Knox chuckled. “Almost ten. Have you been staring at your painting this whole time?”
I dropped my gaze to the painting, with shades that were sickeningly pastel, shapes that were clunky and wrong, and a feeling of death behind its visage.
“Uh,” I swallowed.
Knox took pity on me. “Alright. Hey, I brought you some food. You don’t have to leave your painting, but you have to take a break, okay? You’ve been at this all day. Take a breather. You’ll feel better.”
I bit my lip, trying to force away the smile that was trying to break free.
“You made me a grilled cheese?” And damn it, I was smiling.
I couldn’t help it, though. Since when does an attractive guy make me food? Or check on me when I’ve apparently dissociated my entire day away?
Knox chuckled. “I did, yeah. Seeing as your cat took it upon himself to eat your breakfast for you.”
He nodded to Jackson, still perched on the small table between us, then back to the kitchen island, where there was an abandoned plate of French toast and eggs with the tiniest bites taken out of it.
I felt my face heat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to forget about breakfast. I’m sure it was delicious.”
Knox shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, really. It was just breakfast basics.”
I shrugged. “I’ve never made French toast.”
Knox’s eyebrows skyrocketed. “Seriously? Lucy!”
I blushed harder, my heart skipping a beat at the way he said my name, all rough and full of something I wouldn’t dare label as affection. “What? No one ever taught me!”
“Well, we have to fix that. You can’t just go on not knowing how to cook yourself breakfast.”
I huffed. “I can make myself breakfast just fine.”
“Let me guess.” Knox put our plates down so he could cross his arms against his chest and give me the most effective disapproving look I think I’ve ever gotten, complete with the pushed-up pecs and everything. “You can fry an egg and cook some bacon?”
“Uh,” I swallowed. “I can scramble an egg.”
Knox closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “You can’t fry an egg?”
I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. I wrung my hands together in front of me, a part of me panicking at the thought of Knox disapproving of me now, too. It’s not like he’s necessarily liked me very much until now, but I wanted him to.
He opened his eyes again and studied me.
It just made me more nervous. I crossed my arms so he wouldn’t see me grip onto the material of my shirt and worry it between my fingers.
“Hey.” Knox’s voice was gentle as he reached for me. He grabbed my wrist and tugged me forward, forcing me to look up to maintain his intense yet somehow soft eye contact.
It had to be his eyes and that barely-there smile. They softened his face, and now I was looking into his eyes and feeling his hand on me at the same time.
He uncrossed my arms and held my hands in both of his, his thumbs brushing over the backs of them and sending shocks of pleasure up my arms.
I was shaking.
“Just breathe, Lucy,” Knox soothed, like I was a stray cat on the streets. It made my heart jump more, and I tightened my grip on his hands to stop the shaking.
Knox tugged me again, and I had to step sideways so my hip didn’t run into the table that held my paintbrushes and water cups.
Now, we no longer had a barrier between us, and all those sparks of arousal I’d felt when I was around him now sparked to life again. My pants were becoming tight, my stomach hot with butterflies, and my breath escaping me in a gasp.
I tilted my head back as he pulled me almost all the way to him, with only our clasped hands between us. My knee bumped into his thigh, settling between them even as we stood, his hair ghosting across my forehead with our proximity.
His eyes were soft, but full of emotions I couldn’t name. Heated. If I was delusional, I’d say they were just as aroused as I felt.
But for me?
“Knox?” I asked, and his jaw clenched as he swallowed. I caught the jerking movement of his throat and licked my lips.
“Lucy,” Knox exhaled, voice rough, strained.
He tugged me again, and my hands found his shoulders.
When I felt his hands on either side of my waist, I leaned up, pushing up onto my toes as his hands guided me up to meet him.
Then his lips were on mine. None too gentle, instead coaxing my mouth open and overwhelming me with his taste.
His grip tightened on my waist, and I melted into him. I wound my arms behind his neck, tugging at his hair and hearing a satisfying groan in return.
He slipped his tongue into my mouth, and I moaned, pushing closer.
Then our kiss broke, and our ragged breaths mingled between us, silence coming back slowly, and with it, reality.
“I, um,” I swallowed roughly, “sorry if I–”
“No.” Knox shook his head and squeezed my waist once. Twice. “Don’t be. It’s okay.”
I opened my eyes to meet his gaze. “Are you sure?”
I hoped I didn’t sound as desperate as I felt, but my arms were still around his shoulders, and my fingers were still buried in his hair.
Knox nodded, releasing a soft laugh that eased my nerves, even if just a little. “I’m sure. I started it anyway. Probably not the most professional thing I could have done.”
I laughed. “Not professional? You work for my dad, remember? Not me.”
His eyes softened, and he kissed me again.
This was much softer, and it was over before I could properly enjoy it.
“I’ll remember that for next time.” Knox eventually pulled his hands away from my waist. “Right now, you’re supposed to be sharing a meal with me.”
“Next time?” My eyes widened.
Knox merely winked before pulling me to the couch and grabbing our sandwiches.
I’d have to remember that. There was going to be a next time.