Chapter 52 Knox
KNOX
The second the front door clicked shut, I locked it, turned around, and stalked toward Harper.
A mischievous glint flashed through her eyes. “Boy, you don’t intend on wasting any time, do you?”
“Not one second.”
I moved closer, but with each of my steps, she backed away, that smirk still playing on her lips.
“If you want me,” she said, her voice dropping to something low and teasing, “you’ll have to catch me.”
With that, she bolted.
I smirked and gave chase.
She darted down the short hallway, her laughter echoing off the walls as she rounded the corner. I could’ve caught her in two strides. Could’ve had her pinned against the wall before she made it three feet.
But where was the fun in that?
I let her think she had a head start. Let her weave back into the living room, around the couch as she squealed and ducked under my reaching arm.
“Too slow, Blackwood!” she taunted, breathless.
God. When I’d first met her, she was so tortured and sad and serious.
Now look at this woman. Something in my heart hurt, realizing she’d probably never had this kind of carefree laughter.
She’d grown up way too fast with parents suffering a disease and later got into an abusive relationship with a man that used her kindness as a weapon.
I forced myself not to think about that and stared at the beautiful, smiling woman in front of me.
“Princess, I’m savoring.”
She made it to the kitchen, put the table between us, her chest heaving, her eyes bright with pure, unfiltered joy. This woman. This beautiful, broken, healing woman was playing with me.
I faked left. She bought it, darting the opposite direction.
Wrong move.
I caught her around the waist before she made it two steps, and she squealed so loud, I was pretty sure her neighbors heard.
“Caught you,” I growled against her ear.
“That was cheating!”
“That was strategy.” I threw her over my shoulder in a fireman’s grip, and she beat her fists against my back, laughing, kicking her feet in mock protest.
“Wait!” she gasped between giggles. “Wait, wait, wait! I almost forgot! I have a surprise for you!”
“Don’t need a surprise.” I palmed her ass, gave it a squeeze. “I need to be buried inside you.”
I continued stalking toward the bedroom while she squirmed, her delicate frame draped over my shoulder like she weighed nothing.
“No, seriously! Please!” She was laughing so hard, she could barely get the words out. “I put so much time and effort into the surprise. I promise you’re going to love it!”
I paused mid-stride. Sighed. Years I’d waited. What was another few minutes?
“You’ve got thirty seconds.”
“I need at least two minutes!”
“Sixty seconds. Final offer.”
“Deal!”
I rounded the corner into the bedroom and tossed her onto the mattress. She bounced once, twice, her dark hair fanning out around her like spilled ink, those green eyes sparkling up at me.
I reached for the hem of my shirt.
“Nope!” She scrambled up onto her knees, pressing her palms flat against my chest. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist you wait outside.”
I let out a low growl. “Harper.”
“Knox.”
“I’ve spent the entire night making conversation with people, trying not to get a raging hard-on in front of all of them.” I stepped closer, forcing her to tilt her chin up to maintain eye contact. “My patience is gone.”
She laughed—actually laughed—and patted my chest like I was an overeager puppy. “Trust me, big guy.” She hopped off the bed, planted both hands on my chest again, and started pushing me backward toward the door. “You’re gonna want to wait for this.”
And then she shut the door in my face.
I stared at the wood grain.
Here I was. Six foot four. Two hundred forty pounds of muscle and tattoos. A man who had killed. A man other inmates crossed the yard to avoid.
Bested by a five-foot-four woman who weighed a buck twenty, soaking wet.
I scrubbed a hand over my stubbled jaw, listening to her move around on the other side of the door. Drawers opening. Fabric rustling. The soft pad of her feet against carpet.
But somewhere between my impatience and my need, gratitude crept in.
She’d planned something. Taken time out of her life to create something just for me. Whatever it was, lingerie, candles, I didn’t care. The fact that she’d thought about me, wanted to give me something, meant more than she’d ever know.
I smiled.
Her voice floated through the door, nervous and sweet. “So … I’ve never done anything like this before. If you don’t like it, we can stop, okay?”
My brow furrowed. What the hell was she up to?
“I’m just going to lie here and pretend to be all bold and brazen,” she continued, her words tumbling out faster now, “and that this isn’t making me nervous that you’re not going to like it, or you’re going to think I’m weird, or whatever.
In my head, I’ve been planning this for days, and it sounded perfect, but now that I’m actually doing it, I feel a little silly because if you don’t like it—”
“Harper”—my voice came out softer than I intended—“there’s nothing you could do that I wouldn’t like.”
Seriously. She could be wearing a hazmat suit, performing an interpretive dance about proper dental hygiene, and I’d still be undone.
“Okay,” she said, and I could hear the tremor in her voice. “Open the door.”
I turned the handle.
Pushed.
And the second I caught sight of her, I froze.
Every muscle in my body locked. My lungs forgot how to function. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard, I was pretty sure she could hear it from across the room.
Harper lay sprawled across the bed, completely naked. On her back. Legs spread. Arms stretched above her head.
And her wrists were handcuffed to the headboard.
Holy shit.
“I figured,” she said quietly, “you’ve been shackled for fourteen years.
And the first intimate moment we had together, you were cuffed.
” She swallowed hard, her throat bobbing.
“I wanted to be shackled for you. I wanted to be an offering. Something you could take however you wanted.” Those green eyes, so full of trust that it made my chest ache, locked on to mine. “I want to be your prisoner, Knox.”
I couldn’t move.
Couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t do anything but stare at this woman who had just handed me the one thing she’d never given anyone.
Control.
I knew what that word meant for Harper. I knew about the childhood spent watching her parents surrender themselves to addiction, powerless to stop it.
I knew about the years she’d spent under Silas’s thumb, learning that love was something that could be weaponized.
Control hadn’t been a personality trait for her. It had been a survival mechanism.
The only thing that made her feel safe.
And by handcuffing herself to the bed, she was surrendering it. To me.
The magnitude of that hit me somewhere behind my sternum. She wasn’t just offering me her body. She was offering me the most terrifying thing she possessed. Trust. Real trust. The kind that couldn’t be faked or forced.
She bit her lower lip. “Is it too much? Too weird?”
A rough laugh escaped me as I stepped into the room. “No, Princess. It’s fucking perfect.”
And, my God, her body.
Creamy skin that seemed to glow in the soft lamplight. The swell of her breasts, her nipples already pebbled and begging for my mouth. The soft curve of her stomach. The flare of her hips. And between her spread thighs, her glistening pink center, flushed and ready.
I’d imagined burying myself in Harper a thousand different ways during those long, lonely nights in my cell. But I’d never imagined this.
I stripped off my shirt. Let it fall to the floor.
Her eyes tracked the movement, roaming over my chest, my abs, the V of muscle that disappeared into my waistband. She licked her lips.
“See something you like?” I asked, my voice rough.
“I see everything I like.”
I kicked off my shoes. Unzipped my pants and pulled them off.
When I hooked my thumbs into my boxer briefs and pushed them down, her breath caught audibly. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, then spread wider, like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to hide or invite.
“Eyes on me, Princess.”
She obeyed. Those green eyes, wide and wanting, locked on to mine as I climbed onto the bed. As I settled my weight over her, careful not to crush her, bracing myself on my forearms.
My thick length pressed between us, sliding through her slick heat, and we both groaned.
“Knox …” My name was a prayer on her lips.
I kissed her. Deep. Slow. Savoring the taste of her, the soft sounds she made against my mouth, the way her body arched up to meet mine despite the restraints. Her wrists strained against the cuffs, wanting to touch me, and something primal in my chest roared with satisfaction.
Mine.
I kissed down her jaw. Her neck. Found her pulse point and sucked until she whimpered.
“You have no idea,” I murmured against her skin, “how many times I dreamed about you.”
“Tell me.”
I dragged my teeth along her collarbone. “I dreamed about your taste.” I kissed lower, nuzzling the swell of her breast. “I dreamed about these.” I captured one nipple in my mouth, swirling my tongue around the sensitive peak until she gasped and her back bowed off the mattress.
“Knox …”
“I dreamed about making you scream my name.” I switched to her other breast, giving it the same attention while my hand palmed the one I’d abandoned, squeezing, kneading, working her until she was writhing beneath me. “About making you come so hard, you squeeze my dick.”
Her taste was intoxicating. Salt and skin and all her. I could’ve spent hours on her breasts alone, watching her face contort with pleasure, listening to her gasps turn to moans turn to desperate pleas.
But I had other places to worship.
I kissed down her stomach. Felt her muscles tense and flutter beneath my lips. Dipped my tongue into her navel just to feel her hips jerk.
“Please,” she breathed. “Please, Knox.”
“Please what?”
“Please … more.”