Chapter Twenty-Three
Liam
Third day in this fucking cabin, and I still can’t stop watching him.
Knox sits by the fireplace, stoking embers that don’t need stoking, his shoulders tense beneath that black thermal. The storm
outside has quieted to a low moan, snow piling against the windows like it’s trying to bury us alive. Maybe it is. Maybe Marlena’s
counting on nature to do what she’s been too busy monologuing to accomplish herself.
Hailey’s still asleep in the bed, buried under a mound of blankets, her breathing slow and even. She crashed hard after yesterday—we
all did, in different ways. But sleep won’t come for me. Hasn’t come for me in years when Knox Bishop is in the same room.
The logs shift and settle. Knox doesn’t flinch.
I study him from my spot on the floor, back against the wall, knees drawn up. The firelight catches the angles of his face,
sharpens them into something almost brutal. He’s aged since Afghanistan. We both have. But on him, it looks good. Silver threading
through the blond at his temples. Lines around his eyes that weren’t there before. He’s harder now, leaner, like the years
stripped away everything that wasn’t essential and left behind only muscle and memory.
I’ve replayed a lot of moments in my head over the past decade. Jobs gone wrong, close calls, people I’ve lost. But there’s
one moment I come back to more than any other. One night that’s branded itself into my brain so deep I can still taste the
dust on my tongue, still feel the heat of his body close to mine.
The silence stretches between us like a wire pulled taut.
“In Afghanistan.” The words spill from my mouth. “The night before you shipped out. You remember?”
Knox’s hand stills on the poker. He doesn’t turn around, but I see his spine go rigid beneath his shirt. For a long moment,
I think he won’t answer. That he’ll pretend he doesn’t know what I’m talking about, that we’ll keep dancing around this thing
between us like we’ve been dancing for years.
Then: “I remember.”
Two words, barely audible over the hiss and snap of burning wood. But they hit me like a gut punch anyway.
We’d been drunk that night. Not sloppy drunk, but loose enough that the walls came down. We’d ended up alone in the barracks,
everyone else passed out or gone, and he’d looked at me the way he sometimes did when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.
I’d moved closer. He’d moved closer. Our mouths had been inches apart, breath mingling, and then—
Nothing.
We’d pulled back. Both of us. Too dangerous, too complicated, too much at stake. The next morning, he was gone, transferred
to another unit, and I’d spent the next ten years telling myself I’d imagined the whole thing.
But I hadn’t. I know I hadn’t.
“I’ve thought about it every day since.” I push off the wall, get to my feet. My body moves toward him without conscious thought,
like he’s got his own gravitational pull. “Every fucking day.”
Knox finally turns. His eyes find mine across the dim room, and the look in them makes my chest tight. He’s not surprised.
He’s not confused. He knows exactly what I’m talking about because he’s been thinking about it too.
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” He keeps it quiet, careful. “All those years. You could’ve found me.”
“Because you terrified me.” The words come out jagged, broken.
“What I felt. What I wanted. You weren’t just some guy I could have hooked up with overseas.
You were—” I stop, teeth clenched, fighting for control.
“You made me feel things I wasn’t ready to feel.
Want things I wasn’t supposed to want. So I ran. Buried it. Told myself it was a fluke.”
I’m close now. Close enough to see the pulse jumping at the base of his throat, to smell woodsmoke and sweat and skin. Close
enough that if either of us leaned forward, we’d be touching.
“And now?” His eyes drop to my mouth, then back up.
“I still want it.” No point in lying anymore. No point in pretending. “I still want you.”
Knox exhales, a sound that’s almost a laugh but not quite. “We’re trapped in a cabin, about to die. Probably not the best
time.”
“Probably the only time.”
He stares at me for a long moment, and I watch the battle play out behind his eyes. Duty versus desire. Caution versus need.
I’ve seen Knox face down enemy combatants without flinching, but right now, looking at me, he’s the most uncertain I’ve ever
seen him.
Then something in him gives.
He closes the distance between us in one step, his hand fisting in the front of my shirt, yanking me forward. His mouth crashes
into mine—hard, demanding, unleashing years of pent-up want in a single devastating kiss.
I respond like I’ve been waiting forever. Because I have.
My hands find his waist, his back, anywhere I can touch him. He tastes like coffee and something more dangerous, and when
his tongue sweeps against mine, I groan into his mouth, my whole body igniting. This is nothing like the careful almost-kiss
from Afghanistan. This is a wildfire. This is everything we’ve been holding back finally breaking free.
We stumble backward, mouths still locked, hands grabbing and pulling. Knox shoves me against the wall near the hearth, the
wood cold against my back but his body hot against my front, and I drag him closer, needing more, needing everything.
We both glance at Hailey—still asleep, still oblivious—and we make a silent agreement. We’ll be quiet. We’ll be careful.
But we’re not stopping.
I wanted my cock buried in Knox Bishop the minute I first saw him. Us being Marines didn’t calm the beast inside me one bit.
Every drill, every grunt in the mud, I watched him. Those broad shoulders flexing under his fatigues, sweat dripping down
his neck like a fucking invitation. He was all discipline on the outside, barking orders with that gravelly voice that hit
me right in the gut. I also saw the fire in his eyes when our gazes locked.
But nothing happened back then. As much as I wanted it to, nothing.
But now . . .
Now is different.
We’re out of the Corps, both of us, the weight of those uniforms long shed like old skin. The fire is the only sound on this
snowy morning. He doesn’t pull back, just holds my stare, lips curving into a smirk that says he knows exactly what I’ve been
thinking all these years.
He looks over his shoulder at Hailey sleeping in the bed. “Can you suck my cock quietly? I don’t want to wake her.”
My cock throbs at the question, the beast inside roaring to life. I can tell he isn’t being sneaky or keeping this from her . . .
it comes from consideration instead.
I nod. “Yeah, I can be quiet. For her.” My heart pounds as I drop to my knees in front of him, the wooden floor cold against
my skin but nothing compared to the heat building between us. Knox shifts, unzipping his pants with a deliberate slowness
that makes my mouth water. His cock springs free, thick and hard, veins pulsing like it’s been waiting for this moment as
long as I have.
I lean in, wrapping my hand around the base, feeling the warmth of him, the weight that’s all power and promise. My lips brush
the tip, tasting the salt of pre-cum, and I take him in slowly, inch by inch, savoring the way he fills my mouth. He lets
out a soft groan, muffled, his fingers threading into my hair—not pulling, just holding, like he’s anchoring himself.
The flames cast flickering shadows behind us, and I glance up at him through my lashes.
His eyes are dark with want, those blue irises nearly swallowed by his pupils, that smirk burning off, his expression going open and hungry.
I work him with my tongue, swirling and sucking, keeping it steady, silent except for the wet sounds I swallow down.
Hailey stirs once in her sleep, a tiny murmur, and we both freeze for a heartbeat, but she settles, oblivious.
Knox’s grip tightens, his hips twitching forward just enough to urge me on. The animal in me loves this—pleasing him, finally,
after all that pent-up hunger. I pick up the pace, hollowing my cheeks, taking him deeper until my throat burns with the effort
to stay quiet. His breath hitches, ragged but controlled, and I know he’s close, the tension coiling in his body like a spring
ready to snap.
I feel the first shudder run through him, his muscles tightening under my touch, and I double down, sucking harder, my hand
pumping in rhythm with my mouth. The taste of him grows stronger, saltier, as he swells against my tongue, pushing me to the
edge of what I can take without gagging. His fingers dig into my scalp now, not painful, just desperate, guiding me without
words.
A low, barely audible rumble escapes his throat, and I glance up again, seeing his teeth clenched, eyes half-lidded in that
fierce concentration I’ve known from the field. It’s like we’re back in the mud, synced in silence, but this is so much fucking
better. My own cock aches, straining against my pants, but I ignore it—this is for him, this release I’ve craved.
Then it hits. He bucks once, twice, spilling hot and thick down my throat. I swallow every drop, milking him through it, my
lips sealed tight to keep it all contained, no mess, no noise. His body goes rigid, then slumps, a deep exhale the only sound
as he rides the aftershocks. I pull back slowly, licking him clean, savoring the last taste before tucking him away with careful
hands.
He looks down at me, that smirk returning, softer now, laced with something like gratitude.
“Fuck, that was . . .” he whispers, trailing off as he helps me to my feet.
My knees protest from the hard floor, but the fire in my veins drowns it out.
We both glance at Hailey again—she’s still out, curled under the blankets, her breathing even and peaceful.
Knox pulls me close, his mouth crashing against mine in a kiss that’s full of heat and possession, tasting himself on my tongue.
It’s quick, intense, and when we break apart his hand is already moving, palming me through my jeans. I hiss at the contact,
hips jerking forward.
“Your turn,” he murmurs against my mouth.