Chapter 10
TEN
PARIS
The Wolf-zombies howl outside my window, their cries cutting through the night like rusty chainsaws. I draw the silk duvet over my head, burying myself deeper in the Egyptian cotton nest I’ve built on my king-sized bed. Blocking them out.
Blocking everything out.
Another howl splits the darkness, closer this time, and I clamp my hands over my ears, eyes squeezed shut like a child convinced monsters can’t get you if you can’t see them.
Stupid.
Almost as stupid as throwing myself at Knox last night.
My eyes burn from crying all day. Silently, like a pathetic little princess in her tower, too proud to let anyone hear. Not that Knox tried to. He knocked once at dinner time and called my name through the door. I held my breath until his footsteps retreated.
I shove my face into the pillow, humiliation burning through me all over again. His rejection stings worse than—
Another howl pierces the night. I curl tighter, knees to chest, trying to make myself small enough to disappear. Pathetic.
My mattress dips.
I freeze, breath caught in my throat.
Warm fingers brush my shoulder through the blanket. “Paris.”
I whip around, tangling in the sheets. Knox sits on the edge of my bed, silhouette dark against the faint moonlight filtering through my curtains.
“What are you doing here?” My voice comes out raspy.
He doesn’t answer right away. Just sits there, a solid presence in the darkness, his breathing steady while mine races. The Wolf-zombies howl again, and I flinch despite myself.
He shifts his weight, mattress dipping further. “You okay?”
Am I okay? After making a complete fool of myself? After he pushed me away like I was infected? “Nothing like a zombie choir to lull you to sleep.”
His silhouette moves, head tilted. Studying me.
“What do you want from me?” I sit up, sheets pooling around my waist. “I’m fine. Totally fine. No need to check on the crazy girl.”
“Kept thinking about you in here. Alone.”
My heart stutters, traitor that it is. “I’ve been alone for a year. I’m used to it.”
“Maybe I’m not.”
“You’re leaving anyway.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, thanks for the update.” I shoo him away with my hand.
The mattress shifts as he moves, and I scoot back instinctively, flattening myself against the headboard. But instead of reaching for me, he stretches out on top of the covers, fully clothed in a t-shirt and sweatpants.
“Knox—”
“Just sleep.” He repositions his head. “That’s all.”
He can’t be serious. Why is he—
Another howl echoes from outside, and he reaches for me, his hand finding my wrist. One gentle tug, and I’m sliding down beside him without any resistance, my back to his chest.
He’s spooning me. Knox, Mr. Die Hard himself, is actually spooning me.
“Get some sleep.” His lips brush my temple, so light I might have imagined it. “I’m here.”
The Wolf-zombies seem suddenly distant and unimportant compared to the heat of his body wrapping mine through the thin fabric of my sleep shirt and leggings.
Or the way his chest expands against my back with each breath.
Or the slight roughness of his stubble when he tucks his chin against the crook of my neck.
I shift, trying to get comfortable, and—
Oh.
Is he—He’s hard. It nestles against my ass. I never felt it, but it’s unmistakable. I shift again, testing.
He stills my hips, fingers digging into my soft flesh. “Don’t.”
A small whimper escapes me before I can stop it. Not from pain. From want. Pure, desperate want that pools between my legs and makes me ache.
“Sorry,” I whisper, not sorry at all.
I should lie still and be grateful for this comfort, this closeness. But something reckless makes me shift my hips again, grinding back against him with deliberate pressure.
“You’re driving me crazy.” His grip tightens and his breath comes faster, hot against my neck. “So please stop moving.”
“You’re giving me really mixed signals here,” I say, voice trembling with either courage or stupidity. “Don’t kiss me, but crawl into my bed. Stop moving, but hold me tighter.”
His dark chuckle rumbles against my back. “You want a clear signal, princess?”
I try to turn in his arms, to face him, to see his expression in the darkness, but his hand on my hip keeps me in place, back to his front, my ass against his hardness.
“You sure you’re ready for that?” His fingertips caress the bare skin where my sleep shirt has ridden up.
“Yes,” I breathe.
“Then stop fucking moving.” His lips caress the sensitive spot on my neck, while his hand travels higher, splaying across my ribs beneath my shirt like he’s claiming territory. “And let me touch you.”
I hold my breath, suspended between fear and desire as his fingers graze the underside of my breast.
“No bra.” He cups my breast, thumb ghosting over my nipple. “Were you hoping I’d come to you tonight, princess?”
My only answer is a broken moan, silently begging for more, while my hips shift back against his erection.
“You trying to tell me something?” His hand squeezes my breast. “You want me to concentrate down there instead? I can give you both.”
His other hand glides between the mattress and my waist, anchoring my body to his while his hand moves to the elastic waistband of my leggings. This is better than any dream. His fingers dip lower, past the thin cotton of my underwear, until they reach the slick heat between my legs.
“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he groans, his middle finger sliding easily through my folds. “Is this all for me?”
I nod. I’m beyond words, beyond shame, beyond anything.
“Say it.” He pinches my nipple with his other hand. “Tell me who made you this wet.”
“You,” I gasp. “Just you.”
He rewards me with an open-mouthed kiss to my neck, surely leaving a mark as his finger continues its torturous circles, occasionally dipping lower before returning to that bundle of nerves that sends sparks through my limbs.
“Knox.” I roll my hips against his hand. “I—”
Before I can finish, his finger delves inside me. The sudden intrusion makes me jerk, a strangled sound escaping my throat, but he’s unfazed, adding a second finger almost immediately.
“So fucking tight,” he growls, sinking his fingers deeper. “How I’d love to fill this pussy up with my cock right now. Feel you sucking me in like the greedy little princess you are.”
His words send a jolt through me that’s almost as electrifying as his touch. I’m caught between wanting to settle back against his cock and forward into his fingers, my body greedy for every sensation he offers.
“Please,” I whimper.
He curls his fingers, finding a spot that makes lightning skitter up my spine. My entire body tenses, head thrown back against his shoulder, as he works that spot relentlessly.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, lips against my ear. “I could do this all night.”
He grinds his palm on my clit, and the dual sensation sends me spiraling toward an edge I’ve never approached before. Not like this. Not with someone else. Not with Knox’s voice in my ear.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers.
My moans grow louder, more desperate, as pressure builds low in my belly, coiling tighter with each second. My thighs begin to tremble as I chase something just out of reach.
“You close?” Knox asks.
I nod.
“Then beg for it.” He slows down, a torture I can’t bear. “Beg me to let you come, princess.”
“No. Please,” I gasp immediately. “Please, don’t stop. I need… you.”
“Good girl.” His fingers resume their perfect pace, not too fast, not too slow. “Now show me.”
The tension builds, overwhelming, terrifying in its intensity. My body tightens around his fingers, and then loosens for one second before my hips buck, everything seizing up again. It’s too much. Too intense. I try to escape the onslaught of sensation, but Knox’s arm locks around me like iron.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He rolls my nipple between his fingers.
“It’s too much.” My body fights the approaching storm so intense, it borders on pain.
“I’m not letting you escape this.” He bites my earlobe. “You’re mine now.”
His words push me over like a wrecking ball, tearing down walls I didn’t know existed.
My body convulses, inner muscles clamping down on his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure pulses outward from my core.
I cry out his name, the sound muffled as he abandons my breast to cover my mouth with his hand.
“That’s it,” he whispers as I shake against him. “Let go, Paris. I’ve got you.”
I surrender to it completely, helpless in his grip as the most intense pleasure I’ve ever felt courses through my veins. My vision blurs, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes.
His fingers draw out every last tremor, and my thoughts scatter like glitter caught in sunlight. I can’t form words, can’t remember why I spent so long afraid of connection, of the reality of Knox’s hands on my body, and the safety I feel even as he dismantles me.
A year of isolation, and now this.
When I finally come down, limp and panting in his arms, Knox slowly withdraws his fingers, making me whimper at the loss.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs against my hair. “Absolutely fucking beautiful.”
I struggle to form words, my body still trembling with aftershocks. And somehow, he knows exactly what I need as he cradles my body, his lips brushing my forehead with surprising tenderness.
I stare into the darkness, hyperaware of the fact that he’s still hard against my ass. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Don’t play dumb.” I wriggle my hips back against him. “This doesn’t look comfortable.”
He catches my hip, stilling my movement. “Not about me tonight.”
“I don’t understand you,” I whisper.
“Join the club.” He squeezes my hip before relaxing his grip. “Paris?”
“Mh?”
“Will you come with me? Back to my community?”
His question transforms the atmosphere from post-orgasmic bliss to something heavier. Come with him? Leave my fortress, my sanctuary, everything I’ve built?
“To your… community?” I finally manage, my voice still unsteady from what happened.
“Iron Gate.” His thumb traces circles on my hip, casual as if he didn’t just blow my mind apart and then drop a bomb on me. “It’s secure. Walls. Gardens. People.”
“You’re kidding, right?” I twist in his arms, facing him. “Yesterday, you couldn’t wait to get away from me.”
“Things change.”
“Like what? The fact that I let you finger me?” I shouldn’t be this defensive, but my walls slam up automatically. “Is that what this was about? A girl to warm your bed?”
“Paris.” He sits up, running a hand through his hair. “I—”
I bunch the sheets around me, the sudden modesty ridiculous, but I don’t care. “Is that all I am?”
“That’s what you think?” His voice drops low, rough-edged. “That I just want to get off?”
“You tell me. One minute you’re pushing me away, the next you’re in my bed with your hands down my pants. Then suddenly it’s ‘come join my community.’ What am I supposed to think?”
He reaches for me, but I scramble back.
“I fucked up.” His hand falls to the mattress between us. “The timing, the way I asked—”
“The way you treated me like your dead fiancée’s replacement?”
His face hardens. “Low blow, princess.”
“Stop calling me that!”
“Why? Because it reminds you that you’re hiding up here while the world burns?” He gestures around my bedroom. “Living in your tower like none of it matters?”
“Fuck you!” I try to get out of the tangled sheets.
He catches my wrist, not roughly, just… holding. “Stop.”
We stare at each other, breathing hard. His thumb brushes over my pulse point, so gentle it burns the anger away.
“You’re not her replacement.” His voice is barely audible. “You’re nothing like her.”
“Great. Thanks.”
“Sarah was… practical. Tactical.” His fingers tangle with mine. “You wear glitter during the apocalypse and talk to telescopes.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“I’m saying you make me feel something I didn’t think was possible anymore.” He rests his forehead against mine. “And it scares the shit out of me. And I tried keeping my distance, but it’s not working. Would you please think about it? It’s either you coming with me or me staying here.”
Knox? Staying here?
“You’re shitting me.” I drop my gaze. “You can’t—”
“Can’t what? Make my own choices?”
A laugh escapes me, half-sob. “You’d really stay? For what—for me?”
“Yes.”
“Or you’d take me with you?”
“Yes.”
“What if your people hate me? What if I’m useless out there?”
“Then we’ll figure it out.”
“I—”
“Look at me.”
I raise my eyes to his.
“I’m not asking you to decide right now.” His eyes dart between mine. “But I’m not leaving without you either.”
“Okay.” I nod repeatedly. “I-I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” Something dims in those gray eyes, and he rises.
“Wait.” My hand shoots out, catching his arm. “Where are you going?”
“Couch.”
“You don’t have to.” My fingers loosen, but don’t let go, tracing the ridge of veins along his forearm down to his hand, tugging at it. “Sleep here. If you want.”
“That a good idea?”
“Probably not.” I laugh. “But when has that ever stopped us?”
He hesitates, weight balanced on the balls of his feet.
“Just sleeping,” I say. “Unless…”
“Unless?” His eyebrow arches.
I shrug one shoulder, trying for casual and landing somewhere near desperate. “I mean, technically, we’ve only used your fingers. Seems like a waste of potential for not knowing what happens next.”
His laugh is unexpected, a short bark that crinkles the corners of his eyes. “Jesus, Paris.”
“What? Was that too forward?” Heat crawls up my neck. “The romance novels—”
“Fuck the romance novels.” He crawls back into bed with me, mattress dipping under his weight. “They don’t tell you how fucking terrifying it is when you actually care.”
“You care?”
“Wouldn’t be here otherwise.” He lifts the blanket. “Cuddle?”