Chapter 20 Lina #2
We finished dinner with lighter conversation.
Knox told me about the twins’ latest antics, about pack politics, about funny things that had happened over the past few months.
I listened and laughed and found myself leaning closer to him across the island, our fingers brushing when we both reached for the wine.
The tension between us was building. I could feel it in every look, every touch, every moment our eyes met and lingered too long.
“I should let you rest,” Knox said finally, standing to clear the plates.
Right. Rest. That was definitely what my body wanted right now.
“Goodnight, Knox.”
“Goodnight, Lina.”
I went upstairs and immediately looked under the bed.
The box was there, just where he said it would be. A simple wooden box, worn at the edges from frequent handling. I pulled it out and sat on the bed, lifting the lid.
Letters. So many letters. Some were just scraps of paper with a few sentences. Others were pages long, filled with cramped handwriting. They were dated, I noticed. Spanning five years.
I picked one up at random and started reading.
Lina,
I saw a woman with brown hair today and my heart stopped. For one second, I thought it was you. It wasn’t. It’s never you. You’re hundreds of miles away, living your life, probably hating me. And I deserve it. I deserve every moment of this hell I’ve created for myself.
I miss you so much I can’t breathe sometimes.
Knox
I picked up another.
Lina,
I dreamed about you last night. You were laughing, that full body laugh you do when something really amuses you. I woke up reaching for you. The bed was empty. It’s always empty.
I’m a fucking idiot.
Knox
Another.
Lina,
Today is the two-year anniversary of the worst mistake of my life.
I’m drunk and I don’t care. I’ve written this letter four times already and thrown each version away because nothing I say is good enough.
Nothing captures how sorry I am. How much I wish I could go back and shake some sense into myself.
You deserved better. You deserve everything.
Knox
I read letter after letter, tears streaming down my face. Some made me cry harder. Some made me laugh. Some were just a few words, desperate and raw. Others were long rambling confessions, Knox pouring out his heart onto paper.
He had loved me. Through all those years apart, he had loved me and missed me and wished he could take back what he’d done.
No wonder my past self had forgiven him.
It was around two in the morning when I finally set the letters aside, my eyes burning and my heart full. I needed water. My throat was dry from all the crying.
I crept downstairs, trying to be quiet, and nearly jumped out of my skin when I found Knox in the kitchen.
He was leaning against the counter, a glass of water in his hand, wearing nothing but sweatpants. His chest was bare, all that muscle on display, and his hair was messy and his eyes were tired.
“Can’t sleep,” he said.
“Me neither.” I moved past him to the cabinet, reaching for a glass. “I wanted water.”
He took the glass from my hand and filled it from the pitcher in the fridge, then handed it back to me. He was standing close. Too close. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin.
I took a sip of water and set the glass down, not moving away from him. Instead, I leaned in, letting my shoulder brush against his arm.
“I’ve been reading the letters,” I said quietly.
“Oh, yeah?” His voice was rough.
“I liked them.” I turned to face him, looking up into those gray eyes. “I liked when you were honest with me.”
“I’m always honest with you.”
“Then be honest now.” I stepped closer, close enough that our bodies were almost touching. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
Knox’s jaw clenched. His hands curled into fists at his sides, and I could see the effort it took for him to hold himself back.
“I can’t believe you’re awake,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And real. And here, safe, in our kitchen. I can’t believe you’re my mate. That you’re so beautiful. And I’m really trying to control myself right now, Lina. I’m trying so hard not to kiss you senseless.”
My heart pounded in my chest. My skin felt too hot. My whole body was aching for him.
“What’s stopping you?”
His control snapped.
One second we were standing apart. The next he had me caged against the counter, his arms on either side of me, his body pressing against mine. His mouth found mine and the kiss started slow, tentative, testing. His lips moved gently, giving me time to pull away if I wanted.
I didn’t want to pull away. I wanted more.
I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss, opening my mouth to let his tongue slide against mine. He groaned into my mouth and his hands found my hips, gripping hard, lifting me onto the counter.
“Are you sure?” he asked against my lips, his voice strained. “Lina, we don’t have to. If you’re sore, if you’re not ready...”
“I’m sure.”
“We can take this slow. We can...”
“Knox.” I grabbed his face and made him look at me. “I have wanted you since I woke up. My body remembers you even if my brain doesn’t. So please, for the love of god, stop asking and touch me.”
He let out a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a groan. Then his mouth was on mine again, hungrier this time, more demanding. His hands slid under my shirt, skimming up my sides, his fingers leaving trails of fire everywhere they touched.
I ran my hands over his chest, feeling the muscles flex beneath my palms. He was so warm, so solid, so perfectly built. I traced the ridges of his abs, the planes of his pecs, the curve of his shoulders. I wanted to touch every inch of him.
He yanked my shirt over my head and tossed it aside. I wasn’t wearing a bra. His eyes dropped to my breasts and he made a sound in the back of his throat, reverent and hungry at the same time.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
His mouth found my neck, kissing and licking down to my collarbone, then lower. He cupped my breasts in his hands, his thumbs brushing over my nipples, and I gasped at the sensation. Then his mouth replaced his hands, his tongue swirling around one nipple and...
I felt it. The wetness. The milk letting down in response to his touch.
“Oh god.” I pushed at his shoulders, mortification flooding through me. “Knox, stop, I’m...”
He pulled back and looked at me, his expression confused. Then understanding dawned and his face softened.
“Lina.”
“I’m so sorry, that’s so embarrassing, I didn’t think...”
“Lina.” He cupped my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. “I love you. What the hell would you be embarrassed about? Being able to feed our baby? It’s biology.”
“But it’s...”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” He kissed my forehead gently. “Your body did an incredible thing. It made our daughter. It kept her alive. You’re a fucking miracle and I won’t let you feel embarrassed about any part of that.”
Tears pricked at my eyes. I grabbed my shirt from where he’d tossed it and held it against my chest, covering my breasts. “Can we just... skip that part for now?”
“Whatever you want.” He kissed me softly. “We do whatever you’re comfortable with.”
His mouth moved lower, trailing kisses down my stomach. Each press of his lips left a wet spot on my skin, the stubble on his jaw scraping lightly against the soft flesh there. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of my shorts, tugging them down just enough to expose the edge of my underwear.
“Can I take these off?”
“Yes. God, yes.”
He slid them down my legs, bunching the fabric around my ankles before pulling it free, taking my underwear with them in one motion.
The cool air of the kitchen hit my bare skin, making my thighs prickle.
Now I sat mostly naked on the counter, legs dangling, my pussy exposed to him.
He stood back for a second, eyes locked on me, pupils blown wide, nearly black with want.
I could see the pulse jumping in his neck, hear his breath coming rough and fast.
“I need to taste you,” he said, his voice wrecked, gravelly like he’d been holding it back too long. “Please, Lina. Let me taste you.”
Nervousness flickered through me. My body had been through a lot.
Pregnancy stretching everything out, childbirth tearing me open down there.
I didn’t know what I looked like anymore.
The skin might be looser, the folds different, maybe stretched or scarred from the episiotomy.
Didn’t know if things felt the same to him, if the taste or texture had shifted after all that.
“I don’t...” I hesitated, my cheeks flushing hot. “I don’t know if I’m the same. After the delivery. I might be different from before.”
Knox’s expression softened. He leaned in, pressed a kiss to my inner thigh, his lips warm and firm against the sensitive skin. Then he looked up at me, eyes steady.
“You’re beautiful,” he said firmly. “Every part of you. And I don’t care if things are different. I don’t care if your body has changed. You’re still you. You’re still my mate. And I’m going to worship every inch of you until you believe me.”
Then he dropped to his knees in front of me, the tile floor thudding under his weight.
His hands gripped my thighs, fingers digging into the flesh just enough to spread them apart, positioning me right at the edge of the counter.
My ass hung off slightly, and I felt the hard edge pressing into my lower back.
Exposed like that, legs wide, pussy open to the air and his gaze…
I felt vulnerable, completely at his mercy, the slight draft from the window brushing over my damp folds.
“Knox...”
“Trust me.”
And fuck me if I didn’t.