Chapter 46 Knox
KNOX
“Haven’t you examined my brain enough for two weeks?”
Harper glanced up from her tablet, one eyebrow arched. “We need to continue monitoring you for delayed neurological deficits.”
I smiled. She smiled.
This was our new normal.
Ever since Harper had spent not one, but two nights in a row checking on me every two to four hours, everything had shifted between us.
There was a lightness about her now, something that had taken root and spread like spring after a brutal winter.
The way she walked was different. Softer.
The tone of her voice pitched a little higher, a little warmer.
But mostly, gloriously, she smiled. A lot.
And I fucking loved it.
She smiled when I came in for my daily neurological checks.
She smiled when she got close enough to shine that penlight into my eyes.
She smiled anytime our hands brushed together, like even that small contact was a gift she hadn’t expected to receive.
And she smiled at the prospect of my restricted activity being lifted, so I could come back to work in her infirmary.
“Well?” I leaned back on the exam table. “Am I still a genius?”
She laughed. High and bright, the sound of it hitting me somewhere deep in my soul. She shook her head, typing something into my chart. “I’ll be sure to note that your confidence is still intact.”
“I love seeing you smile,” I said.
Harper’s fingers stilled on the screen. After a few seconds, her attention drifted down to my face, those green eyes studying me.
“I like it too,” she said softly.
I glanced toward the door, where Officer Marks stood just outside. Close enough to intervene. Far enough to give us the illusion of privacy.
“Can we talk?” I kept my voice low.
Harper moved closer, placing her hand in mine.
“Squeeze.”
I squeezed. Three times. I. Love. You.
She squeezed back three times. “Good. Still a strong grip. That’s a good sign.” She tilted her head, her thumb brushing over my knuckles. “You got lucky, you know.”
“Trust me”—I held her gaze—“I know.”
The weight of my words landed exactly where I wanted them to. On her. On the thing growing between us that neither of us had the courage to name out loud until recently.
“Knox …”
“Harper, I want to talk about us.”
This was the conversation we’d been dancing around for two weeks. We’d kept things light. Full of banter. Full of discreet flirtation that made my blood heat and my chest ache in equal measure.
But my parole hearing was coming. And I needed her to understand.
The seriousness in my tone slowed her movements. She set the tablet down on the counter.
“At the hearing,” I said, “if things don’t go my way …”
“They will.”
“But if they don’t …”
“One day at a time.” She squeezed my hand again. “We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.”
“Harper”—I sighed—“I won’t let you put your life on hold for me.”
“That’s not your decision to make.”
“It is.” I shifted, ignoring the pull in my ribs. “I’ve had a lot of time to think over the last couple of weeks. A lot of time to reflect on how I’ve been absent for my daughter. I won’t be absent for you too. If I can be there for you in a real, meaningful way, great. But if I can’t …”
“We’ve talked about this.”
“We talked about it when I was barely conscious and recovering from having my ribs caved in.”
She crossed her arms, but I caught the way her fingers trembled slightly. “I need to finish your exam.”
“I just want you to know …” I swallowed hard, my gaze flicking to the door. “I want you to know that you changed me, Harper. Forever.”
Her jaw tightened. “Don’t do that. Don’t start saying goodbye.”
I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Just in case. “Before you came along, I didn’t have hope.
” The words scraped out of me, rough and raw.
“So, even if the hearing doesn’t go my way, I want you to know that you gave that back to me.
Enough hope that maybe next year, it’ll work.
Or the year after that. But no matter what, from now on, I’ll keep trying. ”
“Your daughter deserves you in her life.”
“I’m not just doing it for her anymore.” I held her gaze. “I want to be in your life too.”
Those beautiful green eyes, the ones that reminded me of grass on a sunny day, held mine for a long moment.
“Harper …” I held my palm open, waiting for her to take my hand. When her warm palm slid against mine, I felt my heart rate settle and my blood pressure drop. She was my calm in the middle of the storm I’d been living in for fourteen years.
“I love you,” I said. “Trust me, there’s nothing I want more than to get out of here and build a life with you.”
She exhaled slowly. “Then that’s all you need to say. We don’t need to talk about what might happen. We need to focus on positive energy and manifest the outcome we want.”
My lips twitched. “Manifest?”
“Yes.” She lifted her chin, a hint of that stubborn optimism breaking through. “Feel like what we want is going to happen. Visualize it.”
I studied her. The soft curve of her mouth. The determined set of her shoulders. This woman had been through hell and still believed in things like manifesting and positive energy.
How was she even real?
“And what is it that you want, Harper?”
I needed to hear it from her. Why would this goddess of a woman settle for an inmate? A convicted murderer with eleven more years on his sentence if the hearing went sideways?
She didn’t hesitate. “I want to be there when those gates open. I want to bring you home and wake up next to you and have breakfast with you and dinner with you and every meal in between.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Moving in together? Don’t you think that’s skipping a few steps?”
She smiled and shrugged, that lightness dancing in her eyes again. “I just want to make up for all the lost time.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to say the thing that had been gnawing at me. “Let’s address the elephant in the room. Say the best-case scenario happens, and I get released. But then, after spending real time with me on the outside, you realize I’m not the man you want.”
“Doubtful.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Harper. I don’t want you staying with me out of obligation or guilt.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise me.”
She held up her hand like she was swearing on a Bible. “I promise. If you suck, I will kick your ass to the curb so fast, your head will spin.”
A chuckle escaped me. “Good.”
“Now”—she picked up her tablet again—“let me finish your exam.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Harper moved around me, checking my pupils again, testing my reflexes. But my favorite part was when she lifted my shirt to check my ribs.
I lay back on the exam table, unable to keep my eyes off her. Off the way she bit her bottom lip in concentration. Off the way her fingers pressed gently against my bruised skin, clinical and careful.
Clinical and careful, and yet every single touch lit me up like a live wire.
“You could look less thrilled about this exam,” she muttered.
“You’re touching me. So, that’s not possible.”
She shook her head, but I caught the hint of a smile. “A masochist. Great. That’s what I’m dealing with.”
“Not a masochist. Just a man who replays every second of your hands on me for hours after I leave.”
Her fingers stilled against my ribs. When she looked up, there was something new in her eyes. A flicker of heat she usually kept banked.
“Every minute. Every detail.” I held her gaze. “The way your fingers feel. The way you smell. The little furrow between your brows when you’re concentrating.”
She smirked. Tried to play it off. “Sounds obsessive.”
“Harper.” I waited until she met my eyes again. “I think about your hands on me when I’m alone in my cell at night. When I’m fisting myself and wishing it were you.”
Her eyes flew wide as she processed what I’d just said.
I’d tried this before, pushing the boundaries of our conversations into dangerous territory.
Every other time, she’d shut it down, saying it was too risky to talk like this when someone could walk in at any second and overhear, but this time, I watched the calculation happen behind those green eyes.
Watched her weigh her options. And then, instead of pulling back, she leaned in.
“So do I,” she said quietly.
Holy shit.
It shocked me. I’d have assumed that with me being so close to my parole hearing, Harper would be extra cautious. I had no clue why she was being this bold, but was I going to stop it?
Hell no.
“When I get home each night,” she continued, her voice dropping lower, “I replay every moment of these exams. Every touch. Every look you give me.” Her cheeks flushed pink, but she didn’t look away. “And then I do something about it.”
Jesus.
I couldn’t resist. Her hip was close enough to my cuffed wrist that I was able to reach out and brush my thumb against it. Just barely. Just enough.
Her lips parted, and a soft gasp escaped her.
This was another thing she’d given me. Another reason to get the hell out of this place and start living like a normal man.
When I spoke, I kept my voice low. Quiet. So only the two of us could hear it in this sterile exam room that suddenly felt very, very small.
“I can’t wait for the day I’m not handcuffed. So I can touch you anytime I want.” My thumb traced a slow circle against her hip. Even through the thin fabric of her scrubs, I could feel the warmth of her skin. “Anywhere I want.”
She swallowed. Her gaze tracked the movement of my thumb. “I can’t wait for that either.”
When she caught her bottom lip between her teeth, something primal stirred in my chest.
“You have no idea how much I fantasize about us,” I said.
Another swallow. “Oh?”
It thrilled me that she was challenging me to continue. That she was leaning into this instead of pulling away.
“Harper”—I tugged her hip closer, just slightly, until she was leaning over me, one palm flat on my chest—“I can’t wait to worship every inch of your body.”
“And how would you do that?” If anyone walked in here right now and saw us like this, there would be no explaining this away. The smart thing would be to stop.
But when it came to Harper, I was anything but smart.
I existed in a place where it was just me and her and the rest of the world had fallen away.
“First,” I said, my voice dropping lower, “I’d kiss a line down your throat. Slow. So slow, you’d be begging me to move faster.”
She took her bottom lip between her teeth again.
“Then I’d go lower. And lower.” I watched her breath catch. “Until I reached your breasts. I’d take my time there, Harper. I’d pull your nipple into my mouth and suck until you were squirming underneath me.”
A soft sound escaped her. Not quite a moan. Not quite a whimper. Something in between that made my blood run hot.
“I’d swirl my tongue around it while I tore the rest of your clothes off.”
Her chest rose and fell faster now.
“And then …” I paused, letting the anticipation build. “Then I’d spread your thighs and bury my tongue inside you.”
Her eyes fluttered closed.
“I’d lick you slow at first. Teasing. Learning exactly what makes you moan.
What makes you grab the sheets so hard, your knuckles turn white.
” I leaned closer, my lips nearly brushing her ear.
“And then I’d find that spot. That perfect fucking spot.
And I’d stay there until your thighs were shaking so hard against my ears that I’d have to hold you down. ”
“Knox …” My name came out broken. Breathless.
“You’d come so hard, you’d tremble for minutes after, but I wouldn’t stop. I’d keep going until you were begging me. Until you couldn’t take any more.” I pulled back just enough to see her face. “And then, Harper? Then I’d finally sink inside you.”
Her eyes opened. Dark. Hungry.
“I’d take you slow at first. Let you feel every single inch of me. Watch your face while you adjusted. And then, when you were ready?” I let my gaze drop to her mouth. “I’d fuck you so hard, the headboard would crack the wall.”
She let out a shaky breath.
“I’d pull your hair. Bend you over. Take you from behind while you screamed into the pillow.” My thumb pressed harder against her hip. “Then I’d flip you over and watch your face while you rode me. Watch your body bounce. Watch you lose control completely.”
“Knox …”
“Can you picture it?”
She closed her eyes again. “I picture it every night when I touch myself.”
Every muscle in my body went taut. My boxers were suddenly way too tight.
She leaned closer, her mouth hovering near my ear. Her breath warm against my skin.
“I have a fantasy of my own,” she whispered.
She made me wait for it.
“The minute you walk out of this prison,” she said, “we don’t even make it home. I hire a limo with tinted windows and a partition that blocks the driver’s view.”
“And?”
“And I get down on my knees for you.” Her voice dropped lower. Huskier. “Right there on the floor of that limo. You take a fistful of my hair, and you fuck my mouth.”
I stopped breathing.
“I want to take you all the way to the back of my throat, Knox. I want to feel you hit that spot that makes my eyes water. I want to choke on you until you lose control.”
“Harper …”
“I want you to watch me struggle to take all of you. And I want you to not care. I want you to use my mouth like you own it.” She pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. “Because you do.”
“Fuck.” The word came out strangled.
“I want you to come so hard down my throat that I have to swallow twice. And then?” She smiled. Wicked and sweet, all at once. “Then we’re still twenty minutes from home. So, you’d better recover fast.”
“Harper.” Her name came out like a growl. Because, hell, I wanted all of that. Right now. I wanted her to sit on my face until she was screaming. I wanted to watch her on her knees in that limo. I wanted every fantasy she’d just planted in my head to become reality.
She brushed a whisper of a kiss across my lips. Barely there. A promise of what was to come.
“Let that be your motivation, Knox.” She pulled back, smoothing down her scrubs like she hadn’t just turned my world inside out. “Be a good boy in that parole hearing.”
I opened my mouth to respond.
Holy shit. That’s why she talked dirty to me. To motivate me.
“You play dirty, Harper.”
“You need more of an incentive to cooperate with the parole board,” she said. “You think about my mouth. Wide open. Waiting for you to fill it.”