Chapter 30
Chapter thirty
Brynn
He follows me like gravity, and when I sit, pulling him down beside me, his hands are already back on me. Gentle, like I’m something fragile and precious and he’s scared he might break me. But I’m not fragile. Not tonight. Not with him.
I climb onto his lap, one knee on either side of his thighs, and the second I settle over him, he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years.
“Jesus, Brynn,” he murmurs, eyes dragging over me. “You’re unreal.”
I lean in, cupping his jaw with both hands, my fingers brushing the stubble that always made him look older than he was when we were kids. Now it fits. Now it’s just Knox. Steady. Strong. Mine, if I let him be.
“You changed clothes,” I say in between kisses.
“Had to feed Pres.” he says as he scatters kisses across my jaw.
I bring his lips back to mine before I can say something stupid, like you look incredible—because he does. He looks unfairly good in a T-shirt and sweatpants, like a fantasy I’ve had too many nights alone. And now he’s here, under me, kissing me like I’m the only thing he’s ever wanted.
The kiss deepens fast. His hands slide to my waist, anchoring me there, not guiding—just holding, like if he lets go, the moment might vanish.
We’re still dressed, the TV still murmuring nonsense in the background, the throw blanket sliding to the floor, but none of that matters.
I can feel him, hard and hot through the fabric of his sweats, and every slow shift of my hips pulls a low sound from his throat.
“Fuck,” he rasps, head dropping to my shoulder for a second. “You’ve driven me crazy since the second you came back.”
I slide my hands up under the hem of his shirt, feeling the stretch and heat of his skin. “Yeah?” I breathe, rocking forward again, my dress riding higher on my thighs. “That bad?”
His head tilts back, eyes full of something between awe and hunger. “That good.”
Then his lips are on my neck, slow and hot, and I can’t stop the soft sound that escapes me.
We move like magnets—slow, starved. His hands roam, memorizing every inch of me through the thin fabric of my dress. I can feel the tension in him, every muscle locked, like he’s holding back so hard it hurts.
“Brynn,” he groans against my skin, voice wrecked. “I love this body. I love you.”
I gasp when his hands sweep down to the backs of my thighs, lifting me slightly to grind me against him. “You feel so good,” he murmurs. “Always have.”
“God, Knox. I need more.” My hips are moving on their own now, searching for the right rhythm.
I need to get rid of this obstacle of a dress, so I reach behind my back to lower the zipper.
I climb off his lap, standing before him and slide the dress down my body.
His eyes are taking in every inch of my skin.
I don’t miss how his eyes catch on the tattoo on side.
He leans forward, reaching for me, places his hands on my hips and marks a soft line of kisses across my stomach, each one a straight shot to my clit.
I reach down, pulling his T-shirt off and throwing it to the floor. I run my hands along the muscles of his back, as his eyes meet mine. “We’re not having sex tonight.”
My hands stop. “What?”
“I want us to wait a bit. So, not tonight.”
I feel my face change and I think I’m actually pouting. “But I—”
He grabs my waist and lays down on the couch, pulling me with him. As if on instinct, I straddle his leg, still searching. I peer up at him as he brushes my hair away from my face.
“Don’t worry, baby girl, you’re going to come, just not on my cock. Not yet.”
My mouth goes dry and I nod. “You called me baby girl.”
He stills for a moment. “Sorry, just sort of slipped, wasn’t thinking.”
“I like it.”
The flash of concern melts into a sultry smile as he pulls my lips to his. We pick right back up where we left off. We’re all lips and tongues and hands and my mind is dizzy. My hips rock and he bends his leg to press his rock-hard thigh against my clit.
Knox’s hands grip my waist with strength. I can feel him, thick and hard beneath me, and each slow grind sends sparks skittering through my spine.
He groans low in my ear. “Brynn…”
“I know,” I whisper, even though I don’t—but this is everything I’ve been aching for.
His lips brush my neck. My hips move again. And we keep going, breaths loud and desperate, like stopping would ruin us both.
I’m grinding down on him now, shameless and frantic, his cock hard beneath me and still trapped behind sweatpants—but barely. Every shift of my hips makes him hiss through his teeth, and the low, broken sound he makes when I press down harder nearly undoes me.
“Brynn—” His voice is wrecked. “Fuck, baby girl, slow down or I’m gonna—”
“I don’t want to slow down,” I breathe, rocking harder, chasing it. “Do you?”
His answer is a growl against my neck, one hand slipping between us, fingers pressing between my legs, through the damp fabric that’s soaked through from how badly I want him.
It’s messy and hot and not even close to enough—our bodies moving like we forgot what restraint even feels like. I keep moving, the sounds of my moans filling the room, chasing friction, and he’s letting me—his hands locked on my hips, his jaw clenched tight like he’s hanging on by a thread.
“Fuck, Brynn, you are so goddamn sexy when you take what you want.” His hands roam up my sides to grip my breasts through my bra.
“God, Knox, I can feel it, I’m gonna come.”
“Please, Brynn, come apart for me. I wanna make you feel so good.”
“I can feel your cock. God, you’re so hard right now.”
My breaths come faster, the release is so close. Our bodies are a sweaty tangled mess as he presses his thigh against me again and that was all that I needed. My body slows as the orgasm consumes me.
“That’s it, come for me. Fuck, you are so beautiful.”
With his hands gripping my hips, he moves me slowly as his eyes are laser focused on my face, watching every change in my expression as I come.
I look down at him, my eyes locked with his. “I love you, Knox.” It probably isn’t the right time to say it, but I can’t keep it inside any longer. He takes my jaw in his hands, and he lowers my lips to his. This kiss is soft, it’s agreement, it’s love.
I keep rocking, riding out my high until I feel his whole body tense beneath me, and then he groans—low and broken and absolutely filthy—and I feel it.
The shudder that runs through him.
The way he buries his face in my neck.
The warmth that spreads between us as he comes, hard, in his pants.
The power of it hits me like heat rolling off pavement. I did that. With nothing but cotton between us and a rhythm we both couldn’t get enough of.
He’s panting, flushed, wrecked, still inside the lines of self-control, but barely. And when he finally opens his eyes, his voice is rough.
“I just came in my fucking pants.”
My whole body clenches, tight and electric. “I know, and it was so hot, Knox.”
There’s no apology in his eyes. No shame.
“Jesus, Brynn,” he says, dragging a hand down his face. “That was—fuck.”
“Who knew dry humping is hotter as an adult?” I say too fast, heat rushing to my face.
His eyes drop to my lips. “It’s because you’re sexy as hell, Brynn Marlow.”
And there’s something about the way he says it—quiet, reverent, almost stunned—that makes my chest ache. If he asked, if he even looked at me like that again—I’d come apart for him as many times as he wanted.
And I think he knows it.