26. Chapter 25
Chapter 25
Knox
I know exactly what I’m about to do.
My movements are calculated, each step measured and deliberate as I cross the threshold into her bedroom, leaving her feline behind me in the living room with my offerings. Shadows stretch across the room, the faint glow of moonlight spilling through the crack in her curtains just enough to paint the edges of her belongings in silver.
I glance at the dresser first. The same delicate trinkets line its surface—small glass animals, a faded polaroid tucked carefully into the corner of her mirror, the faint smear of fingerprints on the glossy wood that only someone like me would notice. My lips curl slightly when my eyes drift to the bookcase beside it. The books have shifted again, their order rearranged since the last time I was here. She must’ve been reading before she went to sleep again.
My gaze slides back to the bed. Rayne. Her name echoes in my mind like a prayer I can’t stop repeating, a mantra carved into my very bones. She’s sprawled out on her back, the pale sheets clinging loosely to her body, one arm thrown back and the other resting limply against her stomach. I can see she is naked beneath the sheet and I wonder if she knew one of us might come tonight. Was she hoping we would? Her dark hair fans out around her head, a halo of ink against the ivory fabric, and even from here, I can see the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps.
She’s still untouched by the world in this state, stripped bare not just of clothing but of the careful mask she wears during the day. No makeup, no practiced smiles or professional detachment. Just her. Pure and unguarded.
I move closer, silent, until I’m standing at the edge of the bed. For a moment, I do nothing, letting my eyes trace every curve, every dip and swell obscured by the sheet. My fingers twitch at my sides. This close, I can see how soft her skin looks, how warm she must be beneath the thin barrier separating us. It’s maddening.
Leaning forward, I grip the edge of the sheet between my fingers. Slowly, deliberately, I peel it back, the fabric whispering against her body as it slides away. Inch by inch, the expanse of her naked form comes into view, her smooth skin catching the faint light in a way that makes something primal stir deep within me.
My breath hitches when I take her in fully, laid out before me like some forbidden offering. Heat coils through me, sharp and insistent, and for a fleeting moment, I consider burying my face between her thighs, tasting her while she’s still lost in sleep again, seeing just how much I could do to her before she wakes. But no. That particular indulgence can wait for another night.
My shoes hit the floor with a soft thud, one after the other, and the cool air brushes against my skin as I strip away each layer of clothing. My pulse drums in my ears, a quiet rhythm that mirrors the ache building low in my core.
I move deliberately, lowering one knee onto the edge of the bed, the mattress dips under my weight. Slowly, I swing my other leg over her body, straddling her hips. She shifts beneath me, her movements instinctive, unconscious—just enough to send a flicker of heat through my veins.
As I lower myself closer, I press my hand firmly over her mouth. Her eyes snap open, wide and startled, glinting like shards of sapphire in the dim light. She reacts instantly, her hands flying up to grip my wrist. I feel the slight dig of her nails against my skin, the sharp sting cutting through the haze clouding my mind. God, I love it when she claws at me.
"Easy," I murmur, my voice low, roughened by restraint. Her panic is raw, electric, but it lasts only a heartbeat before recognition dawns in her gaze. That tension bleeds away, replaced by something softer, warmer—and far more dangerous.
"Knox," she breathes against my palm, her voice muffled but unmistakable. The sound of my name on her lips sends a jolt straight through me.
"That’s better," I say, sliding my hand from her mouth to her throat. My fingers curl lightly around the vulnerable column of her neck, feeling the rapid flutter of her pulse beneath my thumb. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t fight. Instead, she looks up at me with an unreadable expression, her lips parting slightly.
"How did you get in here?" she asks, her tone calm—too calm for someone pinned beneath a man who shouldn’t be in her bedroom. The question hangs between us, but I don’t answer. Instead, I smirk, tilting my head as I take her in, savoring the way her chest rises and falls against me.
"You're awfully composed," I say, letting the words drip with amusement. "I could have done anything to you while you slept."
Her lips twitch, just barely, and there’s a flicker of something dark behind her eyes—a shadow, a whisper of fascination that stirs something buried deep inside me.
Her shrug is almost imperceptible, a subtle roll of her bare shoulders against the sheets beneath her. The movement draws my attention momentarily to the smooth expanse of her collarbone before her voice pulls me back.
"Should I be scared, detective?" she asks, her tone deceptively light, almost curious. Her eyes hold mine steadily, it’s certainly not fear swirling within them. "Are you planning to hurt me?"
I pause, tilting my head as I let her question hang in the charged air between us. My hand remains at her throat, my thumb idly brushing against the delicate skin just below her jaw. Her pulse beats steady now, no longer frantic but full of quiet anticipation. She doesn’t flinch under my grip; instead, her gaze challenges me. My eyes flick to the new book resting on the nightstand next to the bed.
"So are you saying I could have fucked you while you were sleeping and you would have been okay with that? Perhaps I should put on a mask…" I counter, my voice low, gravelly, deliberate. My lips curl into a smirk as I lean in closer, watching every flicker of emotion that crosses her face. "Not let you know who I am while I fuck you… Maybe I should’ve held a knife to your throat…” My fingers tighten ever so slightly on her neck, not enough to harm, but enough to remind her who is in control. “…Cut into all that glorious skin just to paint you in blood and cum."
Her reaction is instantaneous, her pupils dilating until only the faintest ring of blue surrounds the black. Her breathing quickens, though it’s not fear I see in her—it’s something else entirely. Something far darker. Far more dangerous.
"I mean…" she starts, her lips curling into a wicked little smile that sends a jolt straight through me. It reminds me of River. "I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of any of that." Her voice is sweet, saccharine, but there’s a razor-sharp edge beneath it. "I do read a lot of dark romance books, after all."
The sound that escapes me is involuntary—a chuckle, deep and throaty, vibrating from my chest. It fills the small space between us, and I see the way it affects her. Her thighs shift beneath me, the friction sending a delicious ripple of awareness through my body. God, I love how easily she reacts to me, how much control I have over her without even trying.
"Reading it and experiencing it are two very different things. Maybe I should read some to you out loud. Hmmm?" I murmur, amusement lacing my words. My free hand moves to the nightstand, and I pick up the book resting there. Its worn edges and well-thumbed pages tell me it’s been read more than once. Perfect.
"Let’s see what kind of twisted bedtime story you’re reading now." I open the book one-handed, using my thumb to flip to the page marked by her bookmark. The words leap off the page, vivid and raw, and heat rushes through me as I skim the contents. My cock, already stirring from the proximity of her naked body, hardens fully, pressing insistently against her.
"Well, well," I say, my voice thick with arousal as I lower the book slightly to meet her gaze. My eyes burn into hers, taking in the way her lips part, her breath catching as she watches me. She would have to know exactly what I just read. "Is this what you like, baby girl?" My smirk widens, my control slipping now. "Should I threaten to breed this pretty little cunt?"