Chapter 9
KNOX
Ishould be messaging my boys to tell them I’m safe from the storm. I should be checking the doors and making sure Maren and I are safe, and planning for defending this room should anybody attempt to follow us in.
I should be putting a call into my club to tell them about the two men and the truck they were driving and the first four numbers and letters of the license plate.
Instead, my lips are finally on Maren’s lush and pillowy ones, and I can’t bring myself to end it.
Because this kiss is like a lightning strike. Like one of those uber-unrealistic kisses you see in movies where we’re supposed to believe the kiss changed everything the hero knew about the cosmos.
Never believed in that shit, until now.
But as I dip my tongue past Maren’s lips and taste the sweet flavor of her, every single responsible thought melts into the concrete, taking my moral code with it. The taste and warmth of her, the way she responds with urgency and need to my kiss, hits me in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
I slide my hand into her hair, curling my fingers at the base of her skull, and hold her tight against me. But I know I could let go and Maren wouldn’t go anywhere.
There is no fear or protest. She’s not tentative or uncertain. It’s like she’s been waiting for this moment as long as I have. When a soft moan escapes her, I forget every single reason this is a terrible idea. Who she is. Who her father is. What he did. Her age. My goals in life.
Instead, I grip her hip with my other hand and tug her closer to my hardening cock. Angling my head, I deepen the kiss without thinking about what comes next, which, if we keep this up, will be me coming in my jeans where I stand just because of the feel of her body against mine.
Her fingers slide to the front of my T-shirt, gripping the fabric like she needs something to hold onto. The wet fabric drags and pulls over my skin.
But the shift causes her to move differently, just the smallest adjustment of her body against mine, and Maren hisses in pain.
The sound cuts through me like cold water, and I pull back immediately.
I’m a selfish prick.
We’re both breathing harder than we should be. I feel like I just ran a marathon, my legs just as stable as if I had. Her pupils are blown wide in the low light, and my hand is still tangled in her hair as I press my forehead to hers.
The reality of what I just did hits me, and I reluctantly let the soft strands drop through my fingers. It’s hard to accept something that felt so good was a mistake.
“You’re hurt,” I manage to say, my voice rougher than I meant it to be as I take a step back from her delicious warmth.
“Take that look of regret off your face,” she replies. “We’re grown-ups.”
I huff at that. It’s ridiculous because I’m known for being able to school my expression, but I struggle to relax my jaw. “Yeah, but some of us are more grown up than others and should know better.”
“How old are you, Knox?”
“Forty-four. You?”
“I’m twenty-eight. Twenty-nine next month.”
I shake my head at that. “The extra year doesn’t make that gap sound any better.”
“For the record, I don’t regret kissing you. Not even a little bit. What happens in here, stays in here.”
“This isn’t Las Vegas.”
“I’m aware.”
For a second, I just look at her. Her lips are still parted, her breath a little uneven. Her lips are a little swollen because of just how hard I kissed her. There’s a pretty flush to her cheeks, but her eyes are utterly guileless.
I swear beneath my breath. If anyone found out about this, it would be chaos. Suddenly, it feels as if there’s a certain poetic justice to me stuck in here with this woman.
Caldwell might see it as me obtaining leverage or revenge. Or as a betrayal from his own daughter. Maybe both. I could handle however he responded if he knew. But I saw the way Maren looked on that dock when he spoke to her, and don’t know if she could.
“We should get out of these wet clothes.” But as she says the words, she tilts forward a little, as if unsteady on her feet.
“Fuck me,” I say, grabbing her. “I’m an asshole. You’re in shock. There’s adrenaline. And I know for sure I’m not your definition of a safe space. Let’s get you cleaned up, first. Will the shower still run?”
Maren nods. “It’s a tank. I turned it on this morning.”
She moves toward the bathroom, but then stops and leans forward, putting her head down by her knees. “Jeez, I feel dizzy.”
I hurry to her to catch her if she falls. “I don’t think you should be showering alone.”
She stands slowly and stubbornly raises her chin. “Believe me, I have years of experience doing that.”
Gently, I hold on to her bicep, careful not to grip where those assholes bruised her soft tanned skin. “And I’m not arguing with you. Think of it this way: If we shower together, we save hot water. Let’s go.”
“Fine,” she says sharply, as if she agrees with me that this whole arrangement is anything but fine.
We stumble our way to the bathroom. She wasn’t lying when she said it was basic.
It’s a concrete room. No real shower stall, but the concrete floor has been gently sloped to make sure the water runs in the direction of the drain.
The toilet and sink are close by, but are going to get soaked as soon as we turn the water on.
The rain barrel sits on the floor next to the toilet. It’s ugly, but practical.
There’s a series of floating shelfs on the wall by the door with four towels on it, and on the wall by the shower are three utilitarian dispensers that, I’m guessing, are some kind of soap and shampoo and conditioner shit.
“You really don’t have to stay,” she says, holding on to the sink in a death grip.
I glance at her. “Yeah. I do. Guessing you’re gonna take a bit longer than I am, so let’s get you naked, first.”
“Knox…”
“Relax. I’m helping you in the shower. Not seducing you. If it makes you feel better, pretend I’m a nurse.”
Her mouth presses into a thin line. “Yeah, because you’re known for your caring and giving manner.”
“I can be very giving when I need to be. So stop making this even more awkward for the two of us.”
She opens her mouth like she’s about to argue, then closes it and reaches for the hem of her polo shirt. It takes about two seconds for her to realize this is a bad idea due to her injuries. “Fine. You do it.”
I step forward before she changes her mind and pull the Magnolia Bait and Marine Supply polo shirt gently over her head.
When it’s finally off, she sucks in a breath, which I can barely focus on because the sight of Maren in little denim shorts and a pretty burgundy bra covered in lace flowers is quite the distraction.
Sure, I’m here for noble purposes, but my inner dialogue is fixated on her figure.
Some of the bruises on her body look worse under the dim bathroom light.
“You want help with the rest?” I ask, but I can’t help the slight twitch of a smile.
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Trust me,” I say, tugging off my own T-shirt and letting it drop to the ground with a splat. “This is not my idea of a relaxing evening. I had very different plans of riding this out at the clubhouse with my brothers.”
“Then why were you here?”
The question stops me in my tracks. “I’ll tell you what, we get showered and cleaned up, and then we’ll talk about what happened earlier, yeah?”
She nods, but then her eyes flick down to my chest and back up again. “This is embarrassing.”
“Which bit?”
“All of it,” she says, every word filled with exasperation.
I slide my hand to her neck and rub my thumb along her jaw. “Vegas, remember? Tomorrow, we get out of here, and we can go back to ignoring each other.”
“You realize you’re completely inappropriate as both a hook up and a human.”
I shrug. “Maybe. But I’m me. And I’m finding this whole thing as weird as you. So let’s just make a fucking pact to get through it.”
She offers me her hand, and I take it and shake it.
“For the record,” I continue, “I’m gonna touch your body in there to make sure all these wounds get cleaned up properly.”
“Just don’t make it weird.”
“You kissed me. My cock got excited. Might happen again. Doesn’t mean you need to do anything about it.”
“So reassuring,” Maren says, but she grips the sink again.
I crouch in front of her, then unbutton and unzip her shorts before hooking my fingers into the waistband to lower them.
It takes everything I am not to press my nose to the seam of her pussy, because, well, I fucking love pussy.
And I’ve a strong suspicion that Maren’s might move to the top of my list if we were to get acquainted.
Her underwear matches her bra and fits her just as well.
And, fuck me if there isn’t a little damp spot I want to suck on. In the moment, it felt like she was enjoying our kiss, but seeing the evidence she liked it just as much as I did sends me a little feral.
I want to press my thumb over it, circle her clit, maybe, see what Maren Caldwell looks like when she lets go of who she thinks she should be and slides into who she is.
When I stand again and reach behind her, I find the clasp of her bra and pop it open.
“The single-handed bra-opening technique. Well-practiced, obviously,” she says.
I brush the straps from her shoulders and guide them down her arms. “One of those core boy skills you practice on your first girlfriend and never forget.”
That pretty flush reappears on her cheeks. “You don’t strike me as a girlfriend kind of guy.”
“I’m not, but I’m also a really fucking long way from an inexperienced virgin.”
She snorts, despite herself.
I have a momentary thought that I shouldn’t look at her breasts.
For a second, I try to honor it.
But they’re right there, in front of my fucking face as I drop to my knees again to remove her panties.
Her breasts are soft. A lot of the club girls and strippers have implants that keep ‘em high and round. They’re hot, not gonna lie.
But Maren’s natural tits are so much prettier.
They’re heavy, less round, with dark nipples.
The temptation to suck one into my mouth makes my cock ache.
If I’d stayed in the clubhouse, I’d be fucking one of the girls right now.
This is better.
The thought comes unbidden. But I’m starting to think that any time with Maren is better than fucking some girl I don’t really care about just because my pipes need emptying.
If I’m not gonna freak Maren out, I need to get my cock under control, so I don’t even look at her at all as I pull her panties down some of the softest skin I’ve ever touched. And I certainly don’t scrunch them in my palm and press my nose to them, just to inhale the scent of her.
I try to think about where the water flow goes from the drain in here.
And whether the boys are okay at the clubhouse.
And whether I’m gonna be able to ride out of here soon, because staying the night seems like a recipe for good intentions and primal need to collide in a way I’ll never recover from.
“Get in and get rinsed,” I say gruffly as I remove my heavy rings and place them on the sink.
I turn my back to the shower so I can’t see that water sluice down her body.
I focus on the wall and wonder what you’d need to prime the concrete with before you could paint it.
I unzip my jeans and remove the rest of my clothes before gathering up everything we wore and dropping it all outside the bathroom door so it doesn’t get any wetter than it already is.
Then, I turn around, knowing I’m gonna have to face Maren’s naked body at some point if I’m going to help her.