Chapter 15
Oh god. Oh fuck.
“Shit—I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
Knox touched his jaw, testing it, then looked at me with an expression I couldn’t read. Shock. Maybe surprise.
Archibald was laughing. “Holy shit—”
Knox grabbed my wrist. “Out of here. Now.”
He pulled me away from the bar, through the crowd, his grip firm around my wrist. People were staring. I didn’t care. My hand was throbbing, my heart was pounding, and I’d just punched Andrew Knox in the face.
We burst through a side door into a hallway, a service corridor lined with catering equipment and staff areas.
Knox let go of my wrist and leaned against the wall.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” My words tumbled out. “I wasn’t trying to—he said that shit about you and I just—let me see—”
I moved closer and reached for his face without thinking, fingers on his jaw, tilting his head to check for damage.
“Does it hurt? Can you move it? Should we get ice? Fuck, I’m so sorry—”
“Matthew.”
I froze.
He’d never—he’d never called me that. Not once. It had always been Quinn. But now—
I had a sudden, stupid thought, that if I moved, if I spoke, if I breathed wrong, he’d take it back.
“What?” The word came out quieter than I meant it to.
“Breathe.”
I was standing so close to him. My hand was still on his face. His blue eyes were locked on mine, intense and unreadable, and I couldn’t look away.
“I punched you,” I said.
“Yeah.”
“I punched my boss.”
“Yeah, you did.” His hand came up, covered mine where it rested against his jaw. His palm was warm, callused. “Why?”
“He—” My voice cracked. “He said—”
“I heard what he said.” Knox’s thumb stroked across my knuckles. “People talk shit about me all the time.”
“Well, they shouldn’t.” The words came out fierce and raw. “You’re—you’re not what he said. You have insane talent, and you’re not closeted or fucked up or—you care about things. Real things. You fund an entire medical program for abused animals and you don’t even tell anyone about it. You’re—”
I stopped. Couldn’t finish. Couldn’t say you’re good because that felt too simple, too small for whatever this was.
The air between us felt electric. Charged. Too much and not enough all at once.
Knox was staring at me like he’d never seen me before, like I’d cracked something open he’d been keeping locked down.
“You drive me fucking insane,” he said, his voice rough. Wrecked. “You know that?”
His free hand came up, cupped the back of my neck, and he pulled me in.
And—
And he was kissing me.
And that kiss obliterated everything.
Knox wasn’t careful or tentative or testing the waters.
His hand was in my hair, his lips were on mine, and I kissed him back without hesitation.
All the tension that had been building between us for weeks—every loaded glance, every accidental touch, every moment of wanting and not having—exploded in one shattering instant.
His lips were demanding, and I gave back just as hard, my hand sliding from his jaw into his hair, gripping tight. He made a sound low in his throat and pulled me closer, his hand sliding from my neck to my lower back, pressing our bodies together.
I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Could only feel the heat of him, the solid weight of his body against mine, the way he kissed like he was trying to consume me.
My heart was hammering so hard it hurt. Every nerve ending lit up. This was Andrew Knox kissing me like I was the only thing that mattered, like he’d been waiting for this, like he couldn’t get enough—
When we broke apart, we were both breathing hard. Foreheads pressed together. Neither of us letting go.
“Fuck,” Knox said between breaths.
My hands were shaking. My entire body was shaking.
This changed everything. We both knew it.
“We should—” I started, voice unsteady.
“Yeah.”
But neither of us moved. Couldn’t. We stood there in the dim light of the hall, the rest of the world a distant blur.
Knox’s thumb traced along my jaw.
“Matthew,” he said quietly. Just my name.
But the way he said it felt like a question and an answer and a promise all at once.