Chapter 23 #2
“If you say so. Though I can’t imagine you ever being a nerd. Me, on the other hand…glasses, braces, pocket protector. Classic nerd. I’m surprised I had any girlfriends.”
“Please. Girls who date nerds are smart. Nerds always turn out to be hot when they grow older.”
Knox lifts a brow, eyes sparkling. “Oh? So you think I’m hot?”
Before I can answer, his hand slides under the covers, palm curving around my hip, fingertips squeezing just enough to make me nudge closer on instinct.
I smirk. “I haven’t made that obvious?”
He leans in slowly, the space between us disappearing one heartbeat at a time.
“Maybe,” he rasps. “But I’m a nerd, and sometimes I need things spelled out.”
I tilt my head, pretending to think. “I thought nerds were smart.”
“Not girl-smart,” he quips, his mouth finding mine, patient, showing me he knows we can’t go beyond this kiss.
Not tonight, anyway.
And that’s how we spend the next who-knows-how-long, kissing, touching, making out in what feels like slow motion.
Each brush of our mouths and graze of our hands feels unrushed, as if we’re both relearning the ache of restraint—which is almost worse than giving in.
I swear, when this man holds me close but not too tight, his fingers pausing on my hip, I can’t help but wonder if it’s his way of reminding himself, and me, where the line is.
Either way, my body aches in a deep, low way that isn’t about need so much as wanting something I can’t have.
And I don’t know if it’s the hospital or the bath or the quiet of this night without the kittens.
But every time our mouths part and he presses his forehead to mine, it feels like I could fall asleep with my heart wide open.
As our make-out session winds down, Knox pulls back, studying me. “Need anything? I can grab you water and an electrolyte packet.”
I shake my head, catching my breath. “I’m fine.”
His brow shoots up, skepticism written all over his face.
“I promise,” I add, my smile tentative.
We lie, face to face, close and still, lips swollen from too much kissing.
“But also, I’m not sleepy yet,” I hum.
Knox’s mouth curves, his tone playful. “Okay, let’s stay up and talk till our mouths and ears fall off.”
I scoot closer, fingers tracing the curve of his chest like I’m still mapping him into memory. “How many girlfriends did Nerdy Knox have in high school?”
“Nerdy Knox?” He laughs, the sound warm and a little self-deprecating. “Not many. But I did lose my virginity at a school dance.”
I gasp in shock. “Like at Prom?”
He laughs again, shaking his head. “Some junior dance and not exactly the stuff of legend. Think itchy tux, gymnasium lights too bright, and somebody’s older brother’s van parked out back.
Not very romantic though I tried to make it special even when cuddling afterward was on top of an oil-stained tarp. ”
I snort, pressing my face to his chest. “Wow. First-time fantasy, shattered.”
“Hey,” he teases, brushing a thumb over my lower lip, “at least she became my girlfriend afterward, regardless of whether it only lasted a month.”
Our laughter fades, and now it’s the sound of us breathing plus waves pounding against the shore.
I can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat under my palm, solid and sure, and it hits me how safe I always feel with him.
He tilts his head, watching me with those steel eyes that never seem to miss a thing. “So, what about you? How many boyfriends did High School Cami have?”
I let out a short laugh. “Boyfriends? Yeah, that would’ve required me to have a life. Like I said, my dad was super strict. I wasn’t allowed to date.”
Knox’s brows lift. “I know. But not even a secret boyfriend?”
I shake my head, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Not even one. In fact…” The memory clogs my throat. “…My first real boyfriend was my ex.”
The weight of that truth lingers between us, pressing into our beat of silence.
“Does that mean he was also your first?”
“Yes. And my first time wasn’t romantic either.
In fact, it was in between classes. He left right after, like it was nothing.
Like I was nothing. As if sex was a pit stop, not something that should mean anything.
I remember lying there, pulling myself together, wondering why I felt emptier than I had before.
Sad, embarrassed…like I’d handed over something fragile and watched it drop without a second thought. ”
The words hang in the dark, and my throat feels raw, shame from years ago brushing against me like bullies taunting a kid for milk money.
Maybe that’s why being with Knox feels so different.
So safe. He doesn’t just want me. He takes care of me.
He stays. He holds me afterward, wipes me down with a warm towel, or pulls me into a shower as if closeness is the point, not the afterthought.
With him, intimacy isn’t a pit stop. It’s where we begin and where we end.
Knox’s hand stills on my cheek, his thumb hovering just beneath my eye. “Baby…” His tone is threaded with something fierce. “He didn’t deserve you. I’m sorry you went through that.”
I swallow, unable to meet his gaze at first. “It’s stupid. I mean, it was forever ago yet hard to forget.” My throat tightens around the last word. “Being with you feels so different.”
“Sweetheart…” Knox leans in, presses the gentlest kiss to my temple, then brushes a lone tear from my cheek with his thumb.
He tilts his head, listening, giving me space.
I let out a shaky laugh. “Paxton told me about this test once. Something from a chick flick. You ask a guy you’re newly dating what color your eyes are. If he doesn’t know, he doesn’t deserve you. I should’ve known then he wasn’t the right one for me.”
Knox’s brows draw together. “He got it wrong?”
“Yep. Basically said, ‘I dunno, hazel?’”
For a long moment, Knox says nothing. He just studies me, his gaze steady and unflinching.
“Your eyes were the first thing I noticed when we collided that night on the beach. Sapphire-blue,” he murmurs. “In the sun, they shift to teal, like sea glass. At night, like now, they deepen to stormy blue. Heart-stopping. Impossible to look away from.”
He pauses, stroking my hair, lips curling into a gentle smile.
“You’ve got twelve freckles. Three on the left, four on the right, five across the bridge of your nose. I know because I count them every time you’re this close.”
His gaze holds mine, and I bite down on my lower lip, belly in freefall.
“You have a beauty mark on your inner thigh,” he adds. “Another on the small of your back. You go quiet when you’re processing something. And tuck your hair behind your ear whenever nerves swoop in.”
Heat stings the back of my eyes, and I have to blink fast to keep from crying.
Pressing my palm against his scruff-dotted jaw, I steady myself. “Well, for the record, you’re not the only one who’s paid attention.”
His brows lift, amused. “Yeah?”
“Gunmetal eyes,” I whisper, searching them in the dim light. “But when the sun hits, there’s this caramel ring smack in the center.” My fingertip traces the bridge of his nose. “And three freckles, lined up like Orion’s belt.”
A laugh rumbles in his chest, but I’m not finished. I let my thumb brush along the curve of his cheek. “And then there’s your dimples. The ones I see only when you’re Naked Face Guy.”
His grin widens, a low chuckle slipping out. “Naked Face Guy?”
“Yeah. Whenever you’re clean-shaven.”
“And when I’m not?”
“Scruff Face Guy.”
Knox tilts his head, inching closer. “And which face do you prefer?”
I graze my lips over his, teasing, breath catching between us. “Whichever one’s between my thighs.”
A groan escapes him, ragged and real, as he eases me onto my back, his weight settling carefully over mine.
His hand fists the sheets beside my head, every muscle taut like he’s holding himself back.
“Fuck, Cami.” His timbre is rough, hungry. “You’re gonna be the death of me. And if it weren’t for your doctor telling you to pace yourself”—he exhales, a stifled laugh breaking through—“we wouldn’t even make it through this conversation.”
Our gazes remain locked, mouths so close that each breath skims his lips, both of us trembling with everything we’re holding back.
And as waves crash outside, the truth swells inside me, huge and unmoored, like a parade float drifting off course.
Damn. I’m in way too deep.