Cheyenne #2
One corner of his mouth lifts. “That works out well because I’m in the mood to fuck you.”
With that, I scramble out of the car. By the time I make it around to the trunk, Knox is already there waiting for me. It doesn’t seem to matter if I just came. I’m turned on all over again.
The second I’m close enough, he catches my fingers and reels me in until our mouths collide. The kiss is hungry, as if every ounce of restraint he’s been clinging to is long gone.
I don’t realize I’ve launched myself at him until his hands are on my ass and my legs are wrapped around his waist as he carries me toward the elevator.
I chuckle against his mouth. “I’m sorry, did I just attack you?”
“Pretty sure you did,” he says, sounding rather pleased about it. “And I’d be okay if you did it any time you felt the urge.”
That only makes me laugh harder before his mouth finds mine again.
Once inside the elevator, he shifts me around and pulls out a key card, sliding it into the panel.
As soon as the doors glide shut, we rise through the building.
His hands flex against my backside as my mouth skims over his jaw before settling on his lips again.
I can’t help but rock against his thick erection, needing the delicious friction.
He groans. “Cheyenne.”
My lips tremble. “What?”
“Behave.”
When I do it again, he bites out a curse, and a little thrill shoots through me.
By the time the elevator chimes at the penthouse level, we’re both struggling for air. He barely waits for the doors to fully open before stepping out, his stride uneven as he carries me into the entryway.
“Knox.” His name falls from my lips in a gasp. “I want you so much.”
“Good,” he mutters, his voice strained in a way I’ve never heard before. “I feel the same damn way. I’ve been trying to hold back and do the right thing.” His grip tightens, as if the last shreds of his control are frayed to the breaking point. “I can’t anymore.”
“I don’t want you to,” I whisper, meeting his gaze.
Unable to stand the layers separating us, I slide down his body and grab the hem of his sweatshirt, tugging it upward. He lifts his arms so I can pull it over his head before dropping it to the floor in a dark heap. And then his mouth is back on mine.
His T-shirt is next. I fist the fabric and drag it up, breaking the kiss just long enough to strip it off and toss it somewhere into the living room as we half-walk, half-stumble our way toward the bedroom.
He reaches for my jeans, hooking his fingers into the waistband. “You never buttoned them back up.”
“Guess I was a little distracted.”
A low laugh rumbles from him as he shoves them down my legs. I have to kick off my shoes before he can finish pulling them free.
His eyes darken as he takes in the scrap of fabric covering my pussy.
“As good as you look in those panties, they need to go.”
With that, he yanks them down. Once the material is in his fingers, he lifts it to his nose and inhales a deep breath. Arousal spirals through me as my entire body turns molten.
“Fuck, baby. You smell damn near edible.”
My belly bottoms out.
“Correction,” he adds, stepping closer, “you’re extremely edible. And I plan to make a meal out of you.”
A shiver races across my skin as I reach for the waistband of his sweats and drag them down. That’s when I realize he’s not wearing underwear.
God, that shouldn’t be so sexy.
Maybe everything with Knox McNichols is just sexy.
Maybe that’s the real problem here.
He kicks off his shoes and steps out of the sweats until he’s completely bare while I’m still standing in his jersey and nothing else.
His heated gaze drags over me, lingering in a way that makes my pulse stutter, before he closes the distance between us.
There’s no hesitation as his hand curls around the back of my neck, then his mouth is sealed over mine, stealing the air from my lungs.
I melt into him, my fingers spreading over the solid planes of his chest. Every inch of him is firm beneath my touch—all hard muscle and heat.
I can’t help but appreciate the hours he spends on the ice and in the gym, every bit of effort evident as I skim my palms over him.
He feels powerful and steady. Something I can hold on to when everything else in my life is spinning out of control.
He walks me backward without breaking the kiss, guiding me with an urgency that sends a thrill racing through me.
My back brushes the wall, the edge of the hallway table, anything in our path as he keeps moving us forward.
By the time we stumble into the bedroom, I’m already unraveling, my body vibrating with anticipation.
We fall to the mattress in a tangle of limbs, our mouths fastened and tongues tangling. He shoves the jersey up just enough to expose my breasts before tugging the cups of my bra down and sucking one nipple and then the other into his mouth.
“Wouldn’t it be easier if you take this off?” I ask, wanting to be as naked as he is.
He pulls back just enough to look at me before shaking his head. “Absolutely not. The first time I sink deep inside your body, it’ll be while you’re wearing my jersey.”