Chapter Fourteen
She woke the next morning alone.
She had a vague recollection of Jesse kissing her goodbye in the early morning dark, and Knox doing the same, but apparently she’d had no trouble falling back asleep in the big bed without them.
With the winter sunlight streaming through the skylights, she rolled over and stretched.
The bed was enormously comfortable, much more so than hers, and though she’d wondered if she’d have trouble sleeping with two other people in the bed, that hadn’t been the case.
She’d also worried she’d get too warm, tucked between those two big bodies all night, but they kept the bedroom cool, and she hadn’t been uncomfortable at all.
She wondered idly what time it was, then decided it didn’t matter. It was her day off, and she could stay in bed as long as she liked. And if she stayed there long enough, maybe one or both of the owners of said bed would come back and join her.
She smiled at the beam that ran down the center of the ceiling.
Yesterday had been so fun—not just the sex, although on the fun scale, that certainly rated high—but the rest of it was, too.
Eating dinner in bed and laughing over Jesse’s ridiculous movie choices.
The Vampire Happening had ended sometime during the blow job, so Jesse had suggested Barbarella as their next watch.
Only Knox’s threat to withhold sex for a month had convinced him to change it, grudgingly, to Death at a Funeral.
She’d fallen asleep before Peter Dinklage made his blackmail request, waking when Jesse carried her into the bathroom upstairs.
She’d kept her eyes open long enough to pee and brush her teeth, then they’d tucked her in, Jesse climbing into bed on one side and Knox on the other, before drifting off again.
And now she was faced with a dilemma—take advantage of the big, gorgeous bed and her day off to go back to sleep, or get up to pee and find something to eat.
Going back to sleep was appealing, but her bladder knew she was awake now and wouldn’t stop nagging her. So with a sigh, she tossed aside the covers and circled the wall behind the bed to the bathroom.
She’d used the bathroom yesterday, both after the initial bout of sex and to prepare for bed. But it was no less amazing looking in the light of day.
The bath was only separated from the bedroom by that wall at the head of the bed, leaving it open at both sides.
On one side was a small alcove that held the toilet, on the other the biggest shower Chloe had ever seen.
A long counter with double sinks ran the length of that room dividing wall, above it mirrored to the ceiling.
The shower was tiled in a soft spring green all the way to the ceiling, and that same tile extended along the wall behind the toilet.
A window, either original or made to look so, was nestled in the wall between toilet and shower, the pretty stained glass affording privacy and light.
“This place just gets cooler and cooler,” she decided and went to heed nature’s call.
Her bladder no longer nagging, she washed her hands and thought about going back to bed. But the shower was right there, and though she’d tidied up after both bouts of sex yesterday, she hadn’t bathed. And she really wanted to.
She was staring at the shower, weighing more sleep against feeling clean, when Knox poked his head around the wall and said, “Good morning, sleepy head.”
“Jesus, Knox!” She jumped, one hand pressed to her chest. Her naked chest, because she hadn’t bothered to put any clothes on for her trip to the bathroom. “Don’t do that!”
“Sorry.” He stepped into the bathroom, a small smile on his lips. He wore a pair of worn jeans and a simple gray sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed to the elbows, his feet bare and his hair tied back. “I thought you’d hear me.”
“I didn’t.” Very aware that she was naked and he was not, she ignored the urge to cross her arms over her breasts. “What are you doing here?”
Amusement lit his misty eyes. “I live here.”
“No, I know that.” Heat climbing her neck, she cleared her throat. “I mean, Jesse told me you had meetings this morning.”
“I did, over Zoom.” He leaned against the wall. “They’re done now.”
She didn’t know what to say, so she went with, “Oh.”
His smile grew. “I came to see if you were awake, and if maybe you want to go get some breakfast.”
“Go? Like, go out?”
“It was just a thought.” The light in his pretty eyes dimmed, just a little. “If you’d rather not, it’s fine.”
“I’d love to go out,” she told him. “I just really want a shower first. If, um, that’s okay?”
“Of course, it’s okay,” he said, his eyes brightening again. “I’ll get you a towel.”
“Thanks.” She waited while he opened a cabinet and took out a fluffy towel the same pretty green as the tiles. “I won’t be long.”
“Take as long as you want.” He handed her the towel with a smile. “I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready.”
“Okay,” she said and he turned to go. “Unless…”
He paused, one hand on the wall, and looked back expectantly.
The nerves were bouncing in her belly again, but she liked it. She liked it a lot. “I don’t suppose you’d want to join me?”
Surprise flared in his eyes, then pleasure. “I’d love to.”
“Good,” she said, and hanging her towel on the hook on the wall, stepped inside the shower.
She was standing there, staring at the knobs on the wall, when he stepped in behind her. “You didn’t have to wait for me.”
“I wasn’t going to, but—” She waved at the series of knobs, buttons and nozzles that glittered bronze against the tile. “I have no idea how to work all that.”
He chuckled, the warm, rich sound echoing off the tiles. “Yeah, there’s a learning curve. Do you want to get your hair wet?”
“Depends,” she replied with a glance over her shoulder. “Can I use your shampoo and conditioner?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, awkward question—is it actual shampoo and conditioner, or some kind of two-in-one abomination—I mean, situation?”
He nodded toward the niche built into the tile. “We’re men, not Neanderthals.”
She turned to look, angled her head to read the label on the tall bottle. “Um, Knox? That’s lube.”
“Not that niche, the one next to it.”
“Oh.” She shifted her gaze. “Oh, nice. Yes, I would like to get my hair wet.”
“Okay, then.” He reached past her, fiddled with some knobs, pushed some buttons, and warm water came streaming out of the nozzle overhead.
“Oh,” she sighed, turning her face up to the spray. “That’s nice.”
“Hang on,” he said, still fiddling, and water began to pump out of the wall jets.
“Well, God.” Shoving her wet hair out of her face, she looked up at him. “How do you not spend all your time in here?”
“I get hungry and tired,” he explained and ducked his head under the spray.
She watched the water pour over him, arousal working its way idly, almost lazily through her system. He was so beautiful, with that sculped face and swimmer’s body, that arousal seemed almost inevitable, but it wasn’t the prospect of sex that had a lump rising in her throat.
Jesse was all bold, brash sexuality and in-your-face hedonism, but Knox was surprisingly, appealingly tender.
A little stern, yes, and that remarkable self-control was a little intimidating, but there was a softness to Knox, an inner core of mush that both surprised and seduced.
This was a man who cared, and he wasn’t afraid to show it.
He opened his eyes, water streaming down his face, and smiled. “You’re staring at me.”
“Sorry.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and smiled back. “I was just thinking.”
“About?”
“You and Jesse,” she said, giving him part of the truth. “How different you are.”
“Five eighths of an inch isn’t all that much.”
Laughing, she poked him in the belly. “Not that. I meant personality wise.”
Stepping out of the overhead spray, he reached up for the bottle of shampoo. “You mean he’s the fun one and I’m the stick in the mud.”
“Well, he is pretty goofy,” she conceded. “But I don’t think you’re a stick in the mud.”
He poured shampoo in his palm, replaced the bottle, and began to work it into her hair. “No?”
Sighing with pleasure as his strong fingers massaged her scalp, she shook her head. “You’re just more thoughtful,” she said, and tucking her tongue in her cheek, added, “I guess with age comes wisdom.”
He shoved her head under the water.
Sputtering, she fought her way clear. “Hey!”
“Brat,” he accused, smiling.
“I’m doing the conditioner myself,” she warned him.
“Fine.” He grabbed the shampoo again, this time working it into his own hair. “How are you feeling?”
“I got soap in my eye.” Rubbing at it, she stuck her tongue out at him.
“I meant after last night. Still tender?”
“Oh.” She paused to take inventory. “A little bit, but not bad.”
“Good.”
She rubbed her thighs together experimentally. “The beard burn isn’t bothering me, either. In case that information might be useful to you.”
He smiled that slow, sexy smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good. Where are we going for breakfast?”
“Depends on how soon we get out of here, I guess.” He ducked his head back under the spray, soap streaming down his shoulders.
“What time is it?” she wondered.
“Just after nine.”
“Hmm.” Chloe let her gaze drift down, following the trail of shampoo bubbles over his chest, down his abdomen. His penis lay thick between his thighs, not quite hard but not exactly soft, either. “Lots of places serve breakfast until like, ten-thirty.”
“Some places serve breakfast all day,” he replied. “Denny’s. IHOP. The diner.”
“The diner?” She met his eyes, noted the heat simmering in their gray-green depths. “The last time we were there, you got kind of pissy.”
“Because I thought Sawyer was going home with you, and I didn’t want him to.”
“Jealous, were you?” she teased.
He stepped toward her, out of the overhead spray. “Yes,” he said unsmiling. “I was.”
“Oh,” she breathed. Oh, my.