Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Knox
Early morning light creeps in through the blinds of the hotel bedroom suite. I turn my head and see her laying there beside me. Her golden blonde hair strewn across the pillow. She looks satiated. Fucked out.
I watch her as she stirs slightly, but she doesn't wake yet. I reach out and gently move a strand of hair from the front of her face. My fingers barely graze her skin. I study the curve of her lips. The skin exposed from underneath the blanket—her bare shoulder, the line of her collarbone.
There's something about her. Everything. It's addictive. I can't explain why.
Part of me wonders if it's because I'm not supposed to touch her.
If she's this forbidden fruit. If it's because she belonged to my brother at one point.
I shake the thought away. There has to be something else.
Something more than just the taboo of it.
I decide to get up. Order room service. At least something will be ready for her when she wakes.
I slowly climb out of bed, careful not to disturb her. I find my briefs somewhere out in the living room and put them on. Then I locate the room service menu on the desk and call down to place an order. Coffee, orange juice, toast, scrambled eggs, fresh fruit.
While I wait, I open my phone and check emails. A few investor updates, a message from Fletcher about the Riverside project, something from Marcus about next week's schedule.
About twenty minutes later, there's a knock at the door. I let the room service staff in and motion for them to set everything up on the kitchen table. I hold a finger to my lips, cautioning them to be quiet so they don't wake Winter.
They nod and work efficiently, arranging the plates and pouring coffee into two cups. I tip them generously and thank them quietly as they leave. I walk back to the bedroom with a glass of orange juice and a piece of toast in hand.
As I step through the doorway, I see her eyes flutter open. I place the orange juice and toast on the nightstand beside her and slide back into bed.
"Good morning," I say.
Her eyes open fully and she looks at me. She pulls the sheet and blanket up slightly, hiding herself a little.
"Good morning," she says, her voice still soft with sleep.
"How'd you sleep?" I ask.
She has a little smirk on her face.
"Good. How about you?"
I look at her without expression, keeping my tone even.
"Amazing. Best sleep I've had in years."
I pause, then add, "I got us some breakfast."
"Oh. Okay."
She slides up slightly in the bed, adjusting the blanket around her.
"I have to go to the bathroom," she says.
I watch as she gets up from the bed. Naked.
My dick is already twitching. I can feel it rising, hardening almost immediately.
I try to restrain myself. I know I went overboard last night.
Hours of her. Hours of touching, tasting, claiming every part of her.
But it's damn near impossible to control myself with her.
A few minutes later, she comes back out. But she's wearing a robe now. The white hotel robe tied at her waist, covering everything I was just looking at.
I'm disappointed.
She sits on the bed across from me and reaches for the orange juice. She takes a sip, then bites a piece of toast.
"Come on," I say, standing from the bed.
"Let's go. They set everything up out on the kitchen table."
Winter looks at me and nods. I walk out of the bedroom and she follows as we make our way out to the dining area where the plates are arranged on the table. I lift each of the lids, showing her what I ordered.
"Scrambled eggs. Pancakes." I point to the covered dishes.
"Bacon. Sausage. I wasn't sure what you prefer."
Winter steps closer, looking at the spread.
"Oh, it smells amazing."
"Coffee as well," I say, gesturing to the carafe.
"And fresh fruit. The works."
She smiles, a genuine smile that makes something in my chest tighten.
I watch her movements as she sits down at the table.
The way she tucks her hair behind her ear.
The way the robe shifts slightly when she reaches for the coffee pot.
The way her fingers wrap around the handle with careful precision.
She pours herself a cup and takes a sip, closing her eyes briefly as if savoring it. I sit across from her and serve myself some eggs and bacon. We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the kind of silence that doesn't need to be filled with unnecessary conversation. Then Winter looks up.
"So what's on the agenda for today?"
I finish chewing and set down my fork.
"I have another meeting with the on-site contractor at the Old Naples location. Some final issues to resolve."
She nods, taking a bite of pancake.
"Okay."
There's a pause, then she asks, "Do you need me to go with you?"
"Not if you don't want to." I lean back in my chair slightly.
"But I'll have something planned for us later this afternoon."
Winter's eyebrows raise. "Like what?"
I allow myself a small smile.
"You'll have to find out."
She shakes her head, but there's a hint of amusement in her expression.
We continue eating, but I notice we keep stealing glances at each other.
Our eyes meet across the table and hold for a beat longer than necessary before one of us looks away.
Then it happens again. And again. The air between us feels different this morning.
Less charged with raw desire and more...
something else. Something I'm not ready to name yet.
Winter catches me looking at her again and she gets this shy expression.
"What? What is it?"
I study her for a moment. The way the morning light hits her face. The way she's sitting there in my robe, in my suite, eating breakfast I ordered for her.
"I'm glad we sorted things out last night," I say.
Winter smiles, and there's mischief in it.
"Is that what we're calling it?"
I nod slowly. "We can call it more than that if you want."
Our eyes lock and neither of us looks away this time. The moment stretches between us, heavy with unspoken words. I could say more. Could tell her that last night was different. That every time with her is different. That I haven't felt this way about anyone in years—maybe ever.
But I don't. Not yet.
Winter takes another sip of coffee, breaking the moment, but the feeling lingers.
We finish eating, the conversation shifting to lighter topics.
She asks about the Naples development, about the design choices, about the market here versus New York.
I tell her about the challenges of building in Florida, about hurricane codes and coastal regulations.
She listens with genuine interest, asking thoughtful questions that show she's actually paying attention.
It's easy. Talking to her is easy in a way that conversation with other women never has been. When we're both finished, I stand and start clearing the plates.
"Leave it," Winter says. "They'll come get it."
"I know." But I move them anyway, something to do with my hands.
Winter stands too, retying the robe around her waist.
"So what time is your meeting?"
I glance at my phone on the counter.
"In about two hours. I should shower and get ready."
"Okay." She nods.
"I'll do some work. Check in with my studio, make sure everything's running smoothly."
"Sounds good." I pause, then add, "Be ready around five. We'll head out."
Winter tilts her head. "You're not going to tell me where we're going?"
"No." I meet her eyes. "You'll have to find out."
She crosses her arms, but there's a smile playing at her lips.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you? The mystery."
"Maybe."
"Should I dress up? Dress down? Give me something to work with here."
I let my eyes travel down her body, still covered by the robe, and then back up to her face.
"Wear whatever you want. You'll look good regardless."
A flush creeps up her neck and I feel a surge of satisfaction knowing I put it there.
"Fine," she says. "I'll figure it out myself."
"I have complete faith in you."
Winter shakes her head but she's smiling as she walks toward the adjoining door that connects our suites. She pauses with her hand on the handle and turns back.
"Knox?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For breakfast. And for..." she trails off, searching for words.
"For last night?" I offer.
"For all of it."
There's something vulnerable in her expression, something that makes me want to cross the room and pull her back to bed and spend the entire day there instead of going to this meeting.
"You're welcome," I say instead.
She nods and slips through the door, closing it softly behind her. I stand there for a moment, staring at the closed door, feeling the absence of her in the room. Then I turn and head to the bathroom to shower.
***
Around 5 PM, we're both in the car headed toward the pier. I glance over at Winter. She's looking out the window, watching the waterfront properties pass by, but there's anticipation in her posture. She keeps shifting slightly in her seat, like she's trying to figure out where we're going.
I don't give anything away. The driver turns down a private road that leads to the marina. Winter's eyes widen slightly as we pull up to the entrance and she sees the yachts lined up along the docks.
We get out of the car and I lead her down the long pier. The sun is lower in the sky now, casting everything in golden light. The water is calm, barely rippling.
Winter's heels click against the wooden planks as we walk. She's wearing a dress—not the black one from last night, something lighter, flowing. It moves with the breeze coming off the water.
At the end of the pier, there's a yacht waiting. Not the largest one here, but substantial. Sleek white hull, multiple decks, the kind of vessel that makes a statement without being ostentatious.
Winter stops walking when she realizes this is where we're headed.
"Knox—"
"I thought this would be a nice way to get on the water and have a little dinner," I say, extending my hand to help her board.