Chapter 16 #2
Knox pulls the large suitcase behind him while I wheel the smaller one, gravel crunching again beneath our feet. We pause at his Rover where he carefully lifts the kitten carrier from the backseat.
Stripe and Shadow blink up at us, tiny faces pressed to the mesh.
As we start up the driveway, all three women are standing shoulder to shoulder on their front porch, waving like proud aunties seeing us off to college.
Knox and I wave back, and when our eyes meet, there’s a warmth in his gaze that makes my heart stumble over its own beat. “Let’s go in and get us settled.”
Knox moves Stripe and Shadow into the playpen, careful and quiet, while I ready their bottles, hands moving on autopilot, heart anything but.
I steal a glance his way, and a tenderness blooms in my chest, so big, it almost aches.
I have no idea what comes next. It’s peak tourist season. Every hotel in town is booked. We’ve checked.
All I know is I’m not ready for New York.
Not ready to part ways with those kittens.
Not ready to say goodbye to Knox.
But I can’t ask him to—
“Hey.” His voice is tranquil behind me.
I spin around, setting the bottles onto the counter, then wipe my palms down the sides of my shorts. “Hey…”
Knox watches me for a long moment, eyes searching mine. “You can stay here as long as you want. Unless you’d rather head to New York?”
“No.” My answer spills easily. “I’d very much like to stay.”
“Good,” he says, a smile pulling at his lips. “Let’s get your stuff upstairs. And pick your room.”
Upstairs, he walks me down the hall, pausing at one door. “Twin bed, garden view.”
Then he gestures to the next. “Guest room. Queen bed. Bigger closet.”
I glance into both, then look toward the closed door at the end of the hall.
“And yours?” I ask though I already know. His house mirrors Ms. Palmer’s. But asking feels like a step I need to take.
“Last one on the left.”
A quiet beat stretches between us before I face him fully. “Can I sleep with you?”
His brows lift, caught off guard.
“I mean…” I shrug, aiming for casual, but my smirk betrays me. “As of five days ago, we became a bubble couple.”
Something flickers behind his eyes. Heat? Hesitation? Want?
He steps closer, gaze steady. “Cami…”
“We don’t have to do anything,” I say. “It’s just…I won’t sleep knowing you’re so close.”
Eyes narrowed, he studies me, jaw flexing like he’s weighing reasons to say no and reasons to say yes.
Then, a slow smile tugs at his lips.
“Well, when you put it like that…” He reaches for my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “Come on, then. But fair warning: I’m a cover hog, and my alarm’s set way too early for lazy summer mornings.”
I giggle like a giddy college girl who just got asked to homecoming, the tension melting from my shoulders. “I can live with that.”
We walk the short distance down the hall, fingers still laced, each step shrinking the space between what I want and what I’m allowed to take.
When he opens the door, his room feels warm and lived-in. Simple but undeniably Knox.
He motions for me to step in first but lingers in the doorway. “It’s all original—the same furniture my grandparents left behind. Except the bed. Their mattress would’ve wrecked my back after a few nights.”
I glance at him over my shoulder.
“I swapped it out weeks ago, before my arrival,” he adds with a small shrug. “Had to special order the one I use in Manhattan. My body’s picky.”
“Noted,” I say, trying not to picture him asleep in both places. “Luxurious spinal support.”
“My chiropractor would’ve staged an intervention,” he says with a smirk. “Left side’s mine. But I’m open to negotiations.”
A few hours later, the house is still. Bags unpacked. Bottles washed. Lights dimmed.
Stripe and Shadow have been fed and are now curled up in what Knox affectionately calls their upstairs playpen, nestled beneath the bedroom window with its postcard-perfect view of the sea.
For the record, they also have downstairs and outdoor playpens because, apparently, these two demand real estate in every zip code.
We move through our new nighttime routine. I’m already showered, in shorts and a matching cropped camisole. He’s in pajama pants and a tee, towel-drying his hair in the en-suite bathroom.
The air feels heavy with something unspoken but not unwelcome, and if one were to peek in on us, they’d assume this had been our routine for years.
Knox pads over to the bed and pulls back the gray duvet and sheets, his movements unhurried. I slide into the right side, the cool edge of the sheet skimming over my bare legs, making me shiver.
The bedding smells like him. Clean cotton and something woodsy, like cedar and skin and summer.
He clicks off the overhead light, leaving only the amber glow of the nightstand lamp.
“Pillow okay?” he asks, settling in beside me.
“Perfect,” I say, adjusting mine, stealing a brief sideways glance his way.
We lie still for a moment, facing the ceiling, our arms brushing beneath the sheet.
“I’m not crowding you, am I?” he asks, tone teasing.
“No,” I murmur. “Unless you’re planning to roll over at three a.m. and take all the covers.”
He shifts slightly. “Unlikely. You’re already hogging the good side.”
“You said the left side was yours.”
“Exactly.” His grin dares me to argue.
A beat of silence passes. Then he turns to me, voice softer. “Want to watch something? Helps me fall asleep when my mind’s still spinning.”
I nod, grateful for his thoughtfulness. “Sure. But nothing with explosions or zombies.”
He smirks, eyes rolling. “Well, there goes my top five.”
Knox grabs the remote from the nightstand and flips on the TV, a dim glow flickering across the room as he scrolls.
Eventually, he settles on some nature doc narrated by a man who sounds like he’s perpetually two sips into a whiskey nightcap.
After setting a sixty-minute sleep timer, we settle in, the hum of British-accented facts about humpback whales filling the space.
A few minutes later, I feel Knox’s hand find mine beneath the sheet, fingers warm and comforting.
As I turn to look at him, his gaze is already waiting.
“Thanks for letting me stay,” I whisper.
“Thanks for wanting to.”
He leans in, the mattress dipping under his weight, the shift tilting me subtly toward him, as if gravity has already chosen sides.
His lips brush over mine in a kiss that’s barely there. Delicate, unrushed, like he’s saying, I want you, but I know we’re not going to.
Heat flares, sharp and sweet. And somehow, that unravels me more than anything else could.
When he pulls back, I’m smiling as if I’ve just been handed a sunrise, cheeks warm, matching the bloom in my chest.
“Five a.m. kitten alarm,” he reminds me, already turning off the nightstand lamp, then leaning back into his pillow.
“Right,” I say through a stifled yawn, nestling deeper into the sheets. “Guess we better fall asleep fast.”
“Race you.”
I’m lured awake by the hush of ocean waves, a cool night breeze slipping through the open bay window.
Knox lies on his side facing me, breaths slow and even, moonlight draping his skin in light, silvery shadows.
I let my gaze roam over him: the angular cut of his jaw, the perfect slope of his nose, the full curve of lips I’ve kissed, tasted, and endlessly crave like an addict needing a fix.
A stray lock of hair has fallen across his forehead, framing the edges of his beautiful face, and beneath the pillow, his arm shifts just enough to make his bicep flex, an unfair yet welcome distraction.
For a moment, I imagine leaning in, palm against scruff, the space between us vanished, me melting into him.
Instead, I hold still, desire coiling low in my belly, building slow and dangerous, a fuse burning toward something inevitable.
I steal a glance at the bedside clock—2:03 a.m., its low red glow a reminder that while everyone else is asleep, I lie wide awake, drowning in him.
My heart pounds, a frantic drumbeat I’m certain will wake Sleeping Adonis.
And as if summoned by its thrum, Knox’s lashes flutter open, his warm, sleepy gaze finding mine.
“Auditing my sleep patterns?” he says, words playful, laced in a raspy haze.
“Admiring the view.”
“Me too,” he says, his husky tone sending a breeze down my spine.
For a suspended beat, we hover in silence. Gazes locked. Breaths quickening, electricity thick, tangible between us. Until his hand slides into my hair, tugging me closer, a pull as natural as the tide to the shore.
Mouths part, tongues tangle in a delicate slide, heat and want curling between us, need following in a frantic rush.
Guiding me onto my back, Knox settles between my thighs, mouth still moving over mine as his body molds to me, hips rocking in a slow, deliberate rhythm that leaves no room for doubt about where this is headed.
A thin, shaky gasp escapes me, caught between the sweep of his tongue across my lips and the hard length of him pressing against me, heat blooming deep in my center.
He pulls back from our kiss, eyes searching, his chest rising and falling on ragged breaths. “Cami…baby, we don’t have to…if you’re not ready.”
A quiet pulse of fear hums low in my ribs, old wounds reminding me that nothing good ever stays. That this might not last.
But then he looks at me like I’m already his. Like he’s not going anywhere.
And I want this. I want him.
“I’m ready,” I whisper, heart racing.
Like a film running too fast to catch each frame, everything blurs. Clothes stripped away. Fabric forgotten. Mouths colliding in kisses that are equal parts hunger and wonder, our world shrinking to nothing but the heat of bare skin and the certainty of him above me.
My hands tangle in his hair as he travels down, pausing to taste and tease my nipples, then my belly, before he’s settled between my thighs.
His tongue traces my clit in slow, lingering sweeps, each lick deliberate, coaxing, the slick glide sending tremors through my thighs. One hand cups my breast—his thumb teasing over my nipple—while the other grips my hip, holding me in place.
My fingers curl into the sheets, clutching cotton as he alternates between sucking and licking and flicking. His mouth is pure devastating magic, each pass building until I’m suspended between surrender and desperation.
“Knox…” I breathe, my hand tangling in his hair, hips rocking greedily against his mouth, chasing the pleasure tightening low inside me.
When it hits, it’s a sudden, breathtaking rush, stealing my air, splintering me apart under the relentless stroke of his tongue.
As the aftershocks fade, his mouth slows, charting a reverent path up the inside of my thigh, over my stomach, across my ribs, every kiss another spark winding me up all over again.
By the time he’s braced above me, my breathing is shallow, my pulse still racing.
His gaze locks on mine, dark and unflinching.
“I love how you say my name when you come,” he rasps, warm against my mouth. “You’re so beautiful…taste so sweet.” His thumb grazes my cheek, his voice dropping even lower. “I can’t wait to feel you fall apart around me.”
Our mouths collide, desire sparking instantly. My hand slips between us, wrapping around him, stroking from base to tip, teasing, my fingers curling around his thick, hard length, perfectly manscaped and hot against my palm.
The weight. The faint shudder that runs through him at my touch. It all makes me ache for more.
He’s bigger than I imagined, which sends a flicker of nervous anticipation through me.
“It’s been over a year, and…” I trail off, my hips rising to meet him, a silent plea for this glorious man to finally fill me.
“I’ve got you.” His gaze holds mine, heady and sure. “Promise I’ll go slow.”
He eases inside, the first slow inch making me gasp. My nails bite into his shoulders as my body opens for him, the stretch sharp at first, then melting into a molten pull that has me clinging to him, desperate for more.
Another inch, heat and pressure building, my walls clenching around him, his hips pausing like he’s savoring the feel of me tightening around him.
“Fuck…” he groans. “So good. So…Fucking…Good.”
A breath shudders out of me, the fullness almost too much, almost too perfect at the same time.
He settles in deeper, hips at a slow and steady roll, chest brushing mine, tongues tangling, and for a beat, the world is nothing but us.
Unrushed, he draws back, pushing in and out again, the motion sending a sharp pulse of pleasure through me.
His rhythm remains unhurried, each thrust deliberate, like he’s intent on making me feel every single inch.
My hands roam his back, nails grazing the firm lines of muscle, clinging when the heat starts to crest again.
“Knox…” His name slips out, half moan, half plea.
“That’s right, Bubble Girl,” he murmurs against my mouth, kissing me between words. “Come all over me.”
His pace builds, still controlled but harder now, until the steady roll of his hips becomes something I can’t keep up with, my body tightening even more around him.
Shattering, my body quakes, its release crashing through me in waves, stealing my breath, my voice, pulling me under in one luminous starburst rush.
Knox groans low, deep in his chest, driving into me once more before his own climax takes him, heat spilling, body tensing above mine.
Forehead to forehead, we lie tangled together, breaths uneven, fingers laced above my head as if neither of us is willing to let go.
His body melts against mine, all warmth and solid strength, our heartbeats racing in tandem.
A crisp breeze slips through the window, cooling our sweat-damp skin as a blended scent of salt and sex lingers in the air between us.
Fanning his lips over mine, Knox murmurs, low and husky, “I can lie with you like this forever.” His words rumble against my mouth, amusement laced through the lazy drawl. “Even if you hog all the covers.”
I giggle and close my eyes, letting the moment wrap around us like a dream.
And, this time, I don’t think about if or when or why this summer has to end.