20. Knox
Chapter twenty
Knox
Rule #21: Use sound safety protocols.
G emma hadn't answered me. I'd asked how long she'd wanted me, and the little minx had skated right over it. I'd been so lost in my desire for her I'd let it go, but I didn't have an eidetic memory for nothing. I wanted to know. I wanted to know the moment she'd wanted me so I could remember it forever. I wanted to know the second she'd realized that my touch was something she'd craved because God knew, it had been weeks for me.
We managed to get our soaking wet clothing back on, and as uncomfortable as it was, I couldn't seem to make myself care. I touched Gemma. I touched the small of her back as we left the greenhouse. I touched the soft skin of her palm as I held her hand while we ran through the rain to my car. I touched her knee as I drove. My suspicions about my burning desire for her had held true—once I'd started, I wouldn't be able to stop.
By the time we made it to the apartment—to our home —the rain had slowed to a faint drizzle, tapping against the windows and misting the streets with a burnished glow. I held Gemma's hand in the elevator, but as I glanced down at her, she kept her eyes on her boots, her hair dripping steadily, and the tip of her nose reddened from the cold. The elevator doors opened, and I tugged her out, trying to get a look at her face. "Did you freeze? What's wrong?"
She looked up finally, and her lips, tinged blue with cold, spread with a reluctant smile. "I think a lot just happened there."
I led her through the living room and toward the bedroom, already desperate for more of her. "You're surprised? I felt pretty sure you were deliberately pushing all my buttons so I would short-circuit and explode."
Gemma puffed out a laugh. "I do that whether I mean to or not."
That was true enough. When we entered the bathroom, I flicked on the lights, unwilling to relinquish my hold on Gemma's small hand. She felt so good in my grasp—so complete and warm. All my fears of tainting her with my issues, all my worries about the feelings her touch might dredge up had been for nothing. I'd never felt more whole than with her skin against mine. I turned on the shower, letting the bathroom steam as I turned Gemma and fitted her back against the vanity and my front to hers. Our damp clothing pressed in chilly patches against my pebbled skin, and I took Gemma's face between my hands gently.
I smoothed my thumbs over her apple cheeks, relishing the suede-soft feel and the pink glow that contrasted sharply with her cornflower blue eyes. Dampened, black lashes fluttered, and her rosy, delicate lips parted a fraction. She was breathtaking. Every blond hue in her hair, every freckle across the bridge of her nose, every fine crack in her full lips—they fascinated me.
Her gaze bounced from eye to eye as she surveyed me. "What are you thinking?" she whispered.
I traced the curve of her light eyebrow with the tip of my index finger. "I'm thinking," I murmured, "how very beautiful you are."
She pulled in a soft, barely audible breath, and her throat bobbed. "What… what else?"
"I'm thinking I almost lost you," I said honestly. "And that I almost didn’t get the chance to touch you the way I’d been dreaming about."
She leaned into my touch. "Are you going to tell me why you—" she reached up hesitantly, and her hand cupped mine along the side of her face. "Why this bothers you?"
"It doesn't," I said with gentle truthfulness, "but I worried it would." I let my fingers wander down her neck to the dipping neckline of her dress. "I'll tell you if you let me warm you up in the shower and run my soapy hands all over your body."
A wicked grin split her sweet features. "Deal."
We helped each other undress, and I marveled at the shape of her, at the way her collarbones made a ridge just below her dainty shoulders, at the way her breasts curved and dipped like full teardrops, perfectly complimenting her waist and generous hips. I traced the soft slope of her belly and the rills between her ribs, and then I let her explore my body, let her brush and graze and kiss my skin that hummed for more of her with each passing second.
When I had her in the shower and had turned her back to me, sweeping her hair over one shoulder and lathering rose-scented soap between my hands, I dropped a kiss to her neck. "I used to be a competitive swimmer," I admitted, my voice low and my heart beginning an uneasy rhythm in my chest. I rarely spoke of this—only Spencer knew the extent of it.
Gemma sent me a questioning glance over her shoulder. "Okay."
"I made state my junior year of high school, and after that, my parents and coaches pushed me to qualify for college scholarships and possibly Olympic-level tryouts. I pushed myself really hard in my senior year, and my times improved." I smoothed my soapy hands down her shoulders, and in some way, that contact with her seemed to help. I inhaled the scent of her soap, tangy and floral, and ignored the churning in my stomach. "One of my coaches in particular was—" I swallowed, unsure how to describe Coach Daniels. "She crossed boundaries with me."
Gemma went rigid under my touch, but I carried on, sliding the soap down her back and around her sides. "She verbally abused me regularly. She put me down until I had nothing left but my drive to succeed and a need to please her, and then she used it for her own… desires."
Gemma stilled my hands on her stomach, pressing them to her and pulling me closer so I had no choice but to lean into the hug and wrap my arms around her. "She groomed you?" she asked with a stricken choke.
I nodded, my face against her wet hair and the stream of warm water cascading over us both. "She did. She manipulated me with her touch, hurting me with her words but then soothing it away with her hands. Although I realized what she was doing before it got too serious, I don't think it would have mattered even if she had succeeded in sexually abusing me. My parents wouldn't have believed me."
Gemma's hands tightened against mine. Her voice shook as she whispered, "You're telling me this monster assaulted you, and they did nothing ?"
I nodded again, kissing her hairline and gathering her flush against my body. This was the only time I'd talked about Coach Daniels without breaking out into a sweat and ending up with full-body shivers. Gemma's touch was doing that. I took a moment to admire that kind of protective power that she had wrapped me in, and then I grated out, "Since then, touch has been hit or miss."
She turned in my arms, her back to the showerhead and her palms coming to land against my chest. She was so short, the top of her head barely grazed the bottom of my chin. Luculent, blue eyes hooked mine with a teary fierceness. "Someone should have fought for you."
I caught her chin between my thumb and forefinger. "I'm only telling you so that you understand, you wildcard. Don't go tracking down miserable old witches for vengeance."
She sniffed, brows still drawn together. "I'm not a wildcard. I'm fifty-two-card pickup. I'll spew a whole confetti bomb of crazy over her life if I ever come across that hag."
"Terrifyingly, I believe you."
"So, the reason you didn't want to touch me," she said, looking down at where her palms made contact with my chest, "is because it hurts you?"
"Sometimes," I clarified, wrapping her small hands in mine. "Most notably, when I really feel something for a person. I've had girlfriends before, but the moment I began to care for them past a physical dalliance, their touch would turn my stomach. It was like I expected them to betray me. Because I cared for them, it made me vulnerable, and that brought up the feelings of the past." I brought her fingers to my lips and kissed them softly. "I didn't want to feel that way around you. Even when I was furious with you," I gave her a rueful half-smile, "some part of me knew I didn't want your touch ruined."
She gazed up at me, beads of moisture on her long lashes, and she licked water off her lips hesitantly. "But you aren't hurting now? Why?"
I shrugged, lowering her hands to my chest again. "I'm not sure. But I knew after I finally touched you, it wouldn't be like that."
Gemma got a very Gemma look on her face, and her eyes tilted up to me coyly. She pressed her body against mine, rubbing her belly against my erection that I swore hadn't found relief since the greenhouse. "What is it like?"
"Your touch?" I asked, leveling a knowing look her way.
"Mhm." She licked water from her lips again, and although I knew the gesture was unconscious, I wanted to punish her soundly for it. I was pretty sure she'd enjoy it, anyway.
I cradled her face between my hands, turning it up to mine and tilting her far back enough that her lips parted for me. "It feels like it will never be enough." Her mouth stretched into a smile just before I fitted my lips to hers, and the concinnity of our mouths joining in sync nearly undid my rational control. I plunged my tongue between her straight teeth, consuming her effervescent warmth and losing myself in the velvet slide of her lips and tongue and labored breath.
Gemma ran her hands down my chest and abdomen, and I sucked in a breath mingled with surprise and desire. She looked like a water siren with her gorgeous hair dampened and curling around her face, and her skin glistening and pink. I licked water from her bottom lip and then slid my nose along the line of her jaw, taking in the scent of roses and salty skin before playfully nibbling her earlobe. She let out a breathy laugh and wrapped her arms around my torso, pressing my hard erection against her impossibly soft skin. "I wish you would have told me sooner."
I should have. I'd known that all along, but I hadn't wanted Gemma to see me as broken. I hadn't wanted her to glimpse my weaknesses and mock me for them like my parents had done. Even my sister, Arabella, didn't know the truth of what had happened. "I know," I agreed softly, kissing her neck and gathering her against me. "At the very least, I should have been honest with myself about my feelings for you."
"I have questions," she said, her voice muffled against my shoulder.
I smiled against her skin. "Later. I'm busy touching you."
Gemma hesitated, and then with her mischievous voice, she asked, "Touch me where?"
"Turn around, and I'll show you."
By the time we finished our shower, I had Gemma panting and begging, which frankly, far exceeded my imagination. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen from kissing, and she straddled my body, legs wrapped around my waist and arms around my neck as I carried her with my hands under her generous ass to the bed. Gemma licked along the inside of my bottom lip before nipping me gently. "Knox," she groaned.
I grinned. "What's my name when I'm fucking you, Gem?"
"Rook," she whispered, her breath feather-light against my mouth and her arms tightening as she angled her hips into my body.
I paused at the side of the bed, taking in the way the light from the bathroom illuminated one side of her features and the way she felt in my arms. I kissed her nose. "Get it wrong, and I'll stop." Then I tossed her on the bed and followed after her, caging her in as she shrieked and dissolved into a fit of giggles I wanted to swallow whole. Her breathless laugh fell into a moan as I pressed my lips to her pulse point.
She writhed under me, her damp body warm from the shower and skin silky soft under my palms as I ran them down to her hips. "Rook," she groaned, "who taught you to have sex? The Spanish Inquisition?"
I snorted, kissing a line down to her breasts. I wondered, suddenly, if she would let me sleep there, pillowed on her perfect tits. Jesus, God, if I could just bury myself in this woman…
"Are you going to tie me up?" Gemma asked with a husky hint of humor in her voice. "I know where the rope is."
I lifted myself over her, catching her sparkling cerulean eyes with a speculative squint. "Do you… want me to tie you up?"
"Kind of," she said with adorable frankness. She searched my expression as if trying to read how I felt about the idea.
I thought for a moment, my weight balanced on one elbow and my left hand free to wander up her hip, to her waist, under her breast, and to her nipple. She sucked in a breath, and I rolled my fingertip over the pale, pink bud as I met her gaze again. "The appeal of shibari," I said slowly, circling her nipple and relishing in the way her chest rose and fell faster and her eyes took on a glassy quality, "is that you can't touch me. Normally, I like that."
"Oh," she gusted out, her lips parted and her body arching into my touch.
I palmed her breast before tracing a line down the middle of her navel. "But I want you to touch me."
She groaned, her hips rising off the bed like an invitation to finish the path my fingers had started all the way down her delicious body. "Okay," she breathed. "That's fair."
"Is it fair?" I teased gently, smiling and letting my fingers coast to her pelvis. "Is this fair, too?"
"Mhm," she moaned, head falling back and eyes closing. She skimmed her fingers down my arms and then between us, and I sucked in a harsh breath when her fingertips found the head of my arousal. "Is that fair?"
"No," I replied, my voice strained.
Eyes still closed, she smiled like a cat in a milk barn. "Perfect." She wrapped her fingers around my cock, gripping just tightly enough that I groaned and curved inward, and then she slid her hand down to my shaft and back up. "I think you need a taste of your own medicine, Doctor." She used swift, sure strokes up and down the length of me, and I nearly saw stars, my need for her was so potent.
I was rapidly losing focus with her doing that. I slid my fingers between her legs and found her already soaking, already soft and pliant and perfectly tempting. "Spread your legs for me," I murmured.
Gemma complied readily, and I slicked my fingers in her arousal, circling her clit before dipping down inside of her. She moaned again, panting hard, and her hand over my cock stilled. "Rook," she groaned. "I'm begging you to fuck me."
I grated out a harsh chuckle. "Alright, but on one condition."
"Condition?" she asked incredulously, peeling her eyes open to peer at me. "What condition?"
I removed her hand from my cock, although it almost killed me to do it, and trapped her delicate wrist between my hand and the mattress as I held her down. Moving over her, I positioned the head of my dick at her entrance, holding her still as she tried to ease me inside of her. "Tell me how long you've wanted me."
Gemma let out a disgusted sound, tilting her chin up and screwing her eyes shut. "Rook," she whined.
I pulsed my hips against her entrance, teasing her. "Hm?"
With another unsure sound, she finally admitted, "Weeks."
"Weeks?" I kissed between her breasts, still teasing her entrance with my dick even though it felt like it might actually split if I didn't bury myself inside of her soon. "That's unusually patient of you."
She ran her hands over my shoulders and down my back. "I thought you'd laugh if I told you."
I stilled, pushing myself back up over her so I could catch her gaze. "Why would you think that?"
Gemma pulled one full lip between her teeth. "You're so serious, Rook. And…" she paused, looking up in thought. She scrunched one side of her face, "Unattainable? I thought for sure you would laugh at the idea of being with me."
I moved one of her damp, strawberry-blond locks away from her round cheek. "You are far more than I could ever deserve, Gemma."
She tucked her chin down sheepishly. "You don't mean that."
I lowered my lips to hers, and letting them brush against her parted mouth, I whispered, "I have a photographic memory. And you are picture perfect." I kissed her, and as I did, she lifted her hips to meet me, and I slowly entered her. I wasn't used to fucking women slowly like this. Teasing slowly? Always. But I'd never wanted to savor the feel of another woman quite like I did with Gemma. I took my time, entering her centimeter by centimeter until she dug her nails into my shoulders and begged me for more.
And then I filled her and retreated slowly, taking in the image of her sprawled beneath me, the way her breasts bounced with every pulse of my hips and the way she tipped her head back and lost herself in the sensation.
Although I'd lived with her for weeks, I'd convinced myself all that time that Gemma wasn't mine. She wasn't fair game. I didn't deserve to know all the things I'd longed to know about her. I realized suddenly that I hadn't been afraid of her . I'd been afraid of falling for her.
"Show me," I whispered, suddenly desperate to know everything about this woman. "Show me what feels good, Gemma. Show me how you bring yourself pleasure."
Breathing hard and moving her hips in sync with mine, Gemma hooked my gaze with hers, her features equal parts desire and unsure. "You… you want me to do it?"
I took her right hand in mine and guided it down between us. As I did, I sat back on my heels, and while she moved her fingers over her swollen clit, I leaned back to get a full view of my dick thrusting in and out of her pussy. I watched the way she moved her fingers, the pattern she chose and the pressure she preferred. "You look so good," I encouraged. "I love watching my cock fill you, Gem."
"Oh fuck," she groaned. Her thighs tensed, and I held her hips firm while I increased the pace, already dangerously close to reaching my own orgasm. No matter how badly I wanted to chase the tightening pressure, the building need for release, I needed her to find her own climax first. Gemma's orgasm in the greenhouse had been like a detonation button for my own. She was so stunning to watch and so gratifying to feel around my cock, it only made sense that watching her find her own release would set off my own. But more than that, I needed her to be happy. I needed it more than I needed anything else in that moment.
Gemma tensed, her body stilling and her fingers pressing against her clit, and then I felt her break around me. As her orgasm squeezed my dick, hard and fast, I let go, giving myself over to the pull and release of my own orgasm. I also noted dimly in the back of my brain that, like a psycho, I'd filled her with my cum not once but twice tonight, and neither of us was sure about her birth control.
Rational thoughts—gone.
Gemma melted beneath me, and I adjusted us on the bed so our heads were on the pillows and I could tuck blankets around us. Although my blood still thrummed with heat, the rain tapped against the windows, mixing into an icy slurry that I knew would chill her soon enough. I wrapped my arms around her from behind, placing a kiss on her shoulder as she hummed happily and snuggled against me. "Knox," she sighed. "You are a damn good fuck."
I laughed, soft but filling the quiet, shadow-heavy bedroom. "Maybe I should add that to my professional resume."
"Yes, Knox Rook, OB/GYN, and Accomplished Fuck," she chuckled.
I sighed, content and a little dazed. I wasn't much of a cuddler, but I couldn't seem to let go of Gemma. "I don't suppose I can engrave that on my nameplate."
"I dare you," she said sleepily. "Double dog."
"We don't need more than one dog in this house," I murmured back with some amusement.
Gemma's fingers brushed up and down the length of my arm, sending goosebumps over my skin. "Is this okay for you? I don't want to trigger anything for you."
I kissed her hair, breathing in the scent of roses and letting a contended kind of peace settle in my bones and melt me into the mattress. "It's perfect, Gem. You know me. I'll tell you if I don't like something."
She let out a breath of laughter. "I suppose you would. Although, you know we broke several house rules tonight."
I gave her a punishing squeeze. "I won't tell if you won't."
She gasped. "The corruption."
"Oh, I haven't even begun to corrupt you, Gemma Daise," I promised darkly, nuzzling under her ear and down her neck until she sighed wistfully. Only Gemma would feel content about the promise of debauchment. Little minx.