15. Nina
Chapter fifteen
Nina
In the days that followed, Knox and I reverted to our routine of constant sex. But somehow, somewhere, there was an obvious shift that neither Knox nor I wanted to focus on. I tried to ignore it. But with every moment we spent together, the change was there, glaring and mocking me, daring me to do something to fix it.
First off, I had not slept in my room since the night of his corporate event. I spent every sleeping and waking moment in Knox’s arms, and missed him every second he wasn't home. I paced a hole in the tiles, counting each of those seconds until he would walk through the door, after which my entire day would somehow brighten up and I would throw myself back into his arms.
I knew it was a terrible idea to get used to being around him, but I was too far gone now to stop myself. I yearned for his touch almost as much as I needed air. My favorite thing to do had quickly become having him buried to the hilt inside me.
I didn’t need a soothsayer to tell me what was happening—I was falling for Knox. Harder than I’d ever fallen for anyone.
It was exhilarating and crazy and entirely stupid of me. The worst part? I’d begun to wonder if he was falling for me, too. Which was even more stupid because I knew that never in a million years would that happen.
Knox had made it extra clear that his interest in me was only sexual. And as much as I hated to admit it, it made sense. He was an attractive man. I was a beautiful woman, and we were living together. With our hormones and desires clashing, something was bound to give.
The knowledge did not stop me from hoping, though. When we lay in bed at night and he whispered sweet nothings in my ear, I wished deep down that he meant them. When he held me as though I was a thousand-year-old, shiny artifact worth billions of dollars, I wished to God that he actually saw me as something other than a piece of ass to sink his dick into.
And then there was Lindsay.
I knew my best friend wanted the best for me, but at the end of the day, Knox was her brother. And I was an ambitionless, messy girl from a rich home. It went without saying that she would never be okay with it. Even I wouldn’t want my brother to date me.
Plus, our friendship meant too much to me to lose it over some intense crush on a man, no matter who he was.
I was fighting a losing battle.
The next morning when I opened my eyes, Knox was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at me. There was a soft smile on his face and a quick glance down his frame told me he was already dressed for work. Crisp sky-blue shirt and black slacks. His suitcase was on the floor next to his leg.
“Good morning, princess,” he said, still smiling.
I sat upright, stretching to fight the blush that was slowly creeping up my neck. As much as I liked it when Knox looked at me, it was still unsettling sometimes.
“Good morning, you. It’s always nice as a woman to wake up to see some creep staring at you while you sleep.”
He chortled, reaching for me—a kiss on my forehead and on my lips. “How can I not stare? You’re gorgeous even with drool dripping down your face.”
Alright. The blush wins. Damn it.
“Ready for work?” I asked, gesturing to his suitcase.
He nodded. “Do you want to have breakfast together? I made toast.”
A smile almost split my lips in two. “Yay!”
Jumping off his body, I bolted for the door, pushing past it and running to the kitchen. The smell of toast and scrambled eggs filled the air. My stomach grumbled. This was the best thing about having a roommate who knew their way around a kitchen—good food all day long.
“Jesus,” Knox commented once he stepped into the kitchen. “One would think you haven't eaten in two years.”
I shrugged. “It’s toast that you made. I’m allowed to be happy.” Settling on a barstool, I waited for him to sit next to me.
He grabbed one plate—oh, this was another one of our routines, eating together. The food didn’t quite taste as good unless I was eating from Knox’s plate. He dished a mountain of toasted bread on it, then added a heap of scrambled eggs and five strips of bacon.
He pushed the plate in front of me along with a cup of steaming hot coffee and I think I fell in love a little. Knox might appear strict and mean, but he was an actual sweetheart. And he took great care of me.
“Thank you,” I said, helping myself to a slice of toast. “Although, this isn’t ideal if you think about it. I should be the one making you breakfast. You have more important things to worry about.”
He chuckled, drinking his coffee. “Staying alive is one of them.”
Slapping his shoulder gently, I tried to look hurt, but my lips wouldn’t stop smiling. “I’ll have you know that—”
“It’s the thought that counts, yes. But that won’t matter if I’m no longer in the land of the living.”
“You’re so mean to me.” I was laughing so loudly, and it took me a second to recover, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Hey, didn’t I make you pasta the other day? You said it was good.”
He shook his head, biting into a crisp slice of bread. “No, I said it was edible.”
“What’s the difference?” I asked, then held up a hand abruptly. “Never mind. Don’t answer that.”
Knox burst out laughing, and I couldn’t help thinking that I wouldn’t mind doing this. Being here with him like this for the rest of my life. Waiting for him to go to work every day, and then anticipating his return at night. I was going off the deep end.
“What’s the plan for today?” Knox asked after his chuckling subsided. “More painting?”
“Uh… I actually finished my painting.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “Really? When?”
“Two days ago.”
He seemed genuinely pleased. “Sweet. When can I see it?”
A light giggle escaped me. “You already have, remember?”
“That was ages ago, and you weren’t done yet. I want to see the finished work.”
“Why?”
He looked at me like I’d just asked a dumb question. “Because it’s something you’ve been working on for weeks. And ever since I saw it, I’ve wanted to know who would win the battle.”
I squinted my eyes. “What battle?”
“The one between you and your emotions. Did you finally figure them out, or did they consume you?”
Well, shit. I had no idea what to say to that. Was it really a battle? I mean, I’d never thought about it like that. Sure, my emotions were chaotic and downright mind-numbing sometimes, but I never thought about them as something to subdue.
While I was reeling, Knox leaned forward to kiss my lips once more before getting to his feet and grabbing his suitcase. “Have an amazing day, princess. I look forward to seeing your painting when I get back.”
I mustered up a smile for him. “Bye, Knox.”
After he left, I finished up my breakfast, cleaned the dishes, and headed to my room to look at my painting. I was desperate to find out if Knox was telling the truth; his words felt heavy in the air. I pulled off the sheet from the canvas and just stood there for a moment, taking in the wild dance of colors I’d poured my soul into.
With hesitant fingers, I reached out, almost afraid to touch it. This painting was supposed to be my triumph, something I’d decided to do to kick start my artistic journey. But suddenly, I wasn’t so sure.
Was it a declaration of victory, or a chaotic mess of everything I hadn’t figured out? The pinks bled into blues; the blacks crept around hopeful yellows, and there, at the heart of it, was a swirl that made me think of Knox’s eyes when he looked at me, like he could see more than I wanted to show.
So, who won?
This painting was supposed to speak to the viewer, and the message was different for each person. But when I looked at it, I didn’t hear anything. Instead, oddly, it felt like the painting wanted to listen to me. And so, when I opened my mouth, it was with every single shred of conviction in my body that I said, “Not today.” I whispered to it, like I was talking to a stubborn rival. “You don’t win today.”
When Lindsay left weeks ago, I was drowning in aimlessness. Stripped of any purpose or desire to be better. I knew what I wanted, but not how to get there. But now that my painting was finished, it hit me. I wasn’t just wallowing in cycles of self-pity any longer. I was actually doing something about it. It might not have been a big deal, but Knox said that slow progress was still progress, and what mattered was showing up every single day, even if it felt like nothing was changing.
With renewed determination, I fished out my iPad and snapped photos of the finished piece. I carefully crafted profiles on Craigslist, Etsy, and eBay. I listed it at five thousand dollars—a starting point that felt both daring and humbling because I knew it held far more value to me than any number.
It took me the entire afternoon to get it done. There were no notifications yet, but I was hopeful that someone would message me soon. Fingers crossed.
I smiled to myself. Truly, progress was progress. I felt much better than I did yesterday. Once I finished, I rearranged my room and took a shower. It was past four already. Knox would be home soon.
I blushed, smiling. Home. I’d begun to see our living arrangement as permanent, which was ridiculous because his house renovations were almost done. I heard him on the phone with the contractor a few days ago. One day, he would move out and I would be alone.
Would we still meet up and fuck? Would he still want me when he didn’t see me every day? When he was horny and there were other women around? Would I still be his princess?
I didn’t like to think about it because it made me sad. Obviously, I knew that this thing between me and Knox was bound to end one day, but that knowledge did little to stop my feelings from growing with each passing day. So, for now, all I could do was ride this wave out until the storm passed and I had to pick myself up from the ground, alone.
Just because I didn’t feel like cooking, I ordered two pizzas. Knox had an enormous appetite, and I knew he would be hungry by the time he got back. So, when a knock sounded on the door, I expected it to be the delivery guy.
But when I pulled the door open, I froze. It wasn’t my pizza, and it sure as hell wasn’t Knox.
“Hey, Nina,” he said.
“Michael?”