Chapter 52
Chapter fifty-two
Knox
Brynn’s still in my arms, cheeks flushed, lips kiss-bruised, and I swear to God I’ve never been happier in my entire life.
I blink, trying to replay what just happened because I’m not entirely convinced I didn’t hallucinate it. One minute I was dodging a walking glitter bomb in red boots, and the next, my girl was going full small-town alpha female in front of everyone at Gordy’s.
Declaring I’m hers.
Kissing me like it’s our damn wedding day.
Telling off Debbie Carmichael is a moment I’m going to be thinking about for years.
Listen, Debbie. Deborah.
God, I love her.
The music shifts again—another slow one, easy and low, with enough swing to make the couples start pairing off. Someone dimmed the lights even more. It’s cozy now. Warm. The beer signs glow softer. The twinkle lights twinkle harder.
“Dance with me,” Brynn says, still breathless.
I give her a mock-serious look. “Are you sure? I haven't exactly turned Debbie down yet…”
Her eyes narrow with a smile. “Knox.”
I press a hand to her lower back. “Let’s dance, baby.”
We head toward the clear space near the tiny live music setup where a few couples are already swaying.
Cam’s spinning Kate around dramatically in a circle.
Kinsey’s back behind the bar pretending to polish glasses but clearly watching us.
Levi and Ty are locked in a very intense rock-paper-scissors match.
I pull Brynn close, one hand sliding to her waist, the other catching hers.
She fits against me like she always has.
“I liked your little speech back there,” I murmur near her ear. “Very romantic. Very…territorial.”
She groans softly. “I blacked out. I swear. I didn’t even see red. It was just leopard print and boobs and then rage.”
I bark out a laugh, spinning us in a slow turn. “You could’ve just said, ‘Back off, he’s taken.’ Instead, you went full Old Testament wrath.”
She tilts her head back to look at me. “Are you mad about it?”
“Mad?” I grin, brushing a kiss over her temple. “I’ve never been more turned on in my life.”
Her laugh bubbles up, breathing warm against my collarbone. She tucks her face into my neck for a second, like she can’t quite get close enough. Like she needs a second to absorb what just happened.
Same, sweetheart.
I pull her even closer, the world shrinking down to the sound of her breath and the soft strum of the guitar.
And then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch it.
Debbie.
Leaning against the jukebox with a margarita in hand and the kind of death glare that could make crops fail. She’s staring straight at me like she’s plotting how to boil a frog. If looks could kill, I’d be halfway to being cremated.
I bite back a laugh and lean down to whisper in Brynn’s ear. “So…you might want to keep holding onto me.”
“Why?” she asks, lifting her head.
“Because Debbie is giving me the absolute murder eyes from across the room.”
Brynn doesn’t even turn to look. She just smiles sweetly, presses up onto her toes, and kisses me again—slow, and just indulgent enough to really drive the point home.
When she pulls away, she says, “Let her look. I hope she takes a picture.”
I shake my head, my heart stupidly full. “You’re terrifying.”
She grins. “You’re mine.”
“You gonna start bar fights over me now?”
“I’ll fight every woman in Roanoke County if I have to.”
I laugh, the sound catching low in my throat. “That was the hottest thing you’ve ever said.”
We keep swaying. People around us laugh, clink glasses. The guy with the guitar strums into another verse, voice scratchy and warm. And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m holding onto something fragile. I feel like I’m standing in something solid.
This woman, this life, this night—it’s all mine.
By the time we make it through her door, we’re already halfway undressed.
Brynn kicks it shut behind us, her back hitting the wood, her mouth catching mine like she’s been holding her breath since Gordy’s.
I drop my keys somewhere—I think they hit a plant—but I don’t care.
I’ve got her pressed against the doorframe, her hands under my shirt, mine already tugging at the button on her jeans like they’re an obstacle I’m personally offended by.
This isn’t new.
We’ve been here before.
But tonight feels different. Charged. Like something final and beginning all at once. Her kiss is frantic, all teeth and breath and low sounds in her throat that I swear I’ll replay in my head for the rest of my life.
“You gonna take me to bed, Coach?” she pants against my mouth, that wicked grin tugging at her lips.
“No,” I growl, lifting her into my arms. “I’m gonna wreck you in it.”
She sucks in a breath and wraps herself around me like temptation incarnate. We barely make it up the stairs. Her shirt is somewhere on the landing, her teeth scrape against my jaw, and I’m muttering every filthy thing I plan to do to her once I get her horizontal.
I don’t just drop her onto the mattress—I follow, catching her wrists above her head like I might pin her down and make her beg. Hell, I just might.
Her jeans come off with a sharp tug. I’m about to follow suit with my own clothes when something stops me cold.
It’s the eyes. Beady. Like the damn thing would come to life if I fed it after midnight.
I squint toward the nightstand.
Brynn follows my gaze and lets out a horrified gasp. “Oh my God. Chauncey.”
Sitting proudly next to a half-melted candle is the stuffed bunny I got her the night she was sick—his ears flopped to the sides, his expression somewhere between confused and deeply betrayed.
“That thing is watching us like some emotionally stunted cuckold who paid for the room but wasn’t invited to play.”
Brynn collapses into laughter. “Knox! That’s my emotional support bunny!”
“I’m just saying! He’s got real ‘third wheel in a doomed throuple’ energy.”
She scrambles upright, yanks the bunny from the nightstand like she’s liberating the bedroom from evil, and hurls him into the hallway with the sort of strength that makes me consider asking her to tackle me next.
We both freeze. Then—laughter. Loud, unfiltered, stomach-aching kind. My head drops to her shoulder.
“I can’t believe I was about to go down on you with that thing watching.”
She gasps between fits of laughter. “He’s probably emotionally scarred.”
“We all are now.”
She wipes tears from her eyes, still catching her breath. “We should bury him.”
“Bonfire. July. I’m bringing the lighter fluid.”
She snorts. “Make it ceremonial.”
My hand trails down her side, settling at her hip. “I like it when you talk about the future.”
There’s a beat. A breath. A shift in the air.
I look down at her, my eyes scanning every inch of skin. “You know how fucking dangerous you are?”
She reaches up, hands on my biceps. “Show me.”
That’s all it takes.
The laughter fades, replaced by need. The kind that simmers, slow and sure.
I dip my head to her throat, kissing along the delicate curve, tasting skin that’s flushed and begging.
I trail lower, tongue sliding over the swell of her breast, then down to her stomach where I whisper promises into the soft skin just above her navel.
“Knox—” She gasps, hips twitching beneath me.
“Gonna worship this body until you forget your own damn name,” I growl, sliding lower.
I part her thighs. “Look at this pussy,” I mutter, running my thumb along her slit. “So fucking pretty. All mine.”
She whines, trying to grind against my hand, but I pull back and blow a warm breath across her clit. “You need my mouth, baby girl? Or should I make you beg?”
“God, Knox,” she moans. “Please. Don’t tease. I’m dying.”
I smirk as I settle between her thighs. “That’s the idea.”
Then I taste her—and I’m done for. She’s sweet, hot, addictive.
I lick and suck until her legs are shaking around my head and her hands are fisting in my hair like she’s scared I’ll stop.
She comes fast, hips grinding against my face as she gasps my name, back arching off the bed, and I hold her through it, letting her ride it out on my tongue. But I don’t give her a break.
I kiss my way up her body, dragging my mouth over flushed skin, murmuring filth against her neck and jaw. “You taste so fucking good, baby. Gonna have that on my tongue for days.”
She’s breathless, dazed, but pulls me down to her. “Need you inside me. Please.”
“You want this cock, baby?” I rasp, dragging the head of it through her slick folds. “Want me to fuck you like I’m claiming you?”
Her eyes go wide—need and love and a thousand unspoken things flickering behind them. “Yes,” she breathes. “God, yes.”
I fist myself and start to press in, slow and steady, eyes locked on her face. I make it about halfway when I feel her body tense beneath me—just slightly, but I don’t miss it. The tight pull, the way her expression falters.
“Knox?” she whispers, her voice small but clear.
I stop immediately. “Talk to me, baby.”
She bites her bottom lip. “Can you grab the lube?”
I nod, already reaching for the bottle in the drawer. “Of course. We take our time,” I say, pouring some into my hand and warming it between my fingers. I meet her eyes again, softer now. “This doesn’t mean anything’s wrong. You know that, right?”
She nods, but there’s that flicker of something, shame, maybe, trying to sneak in around the edges. I lean in and kiss her, deep and slow, while my hand moves between us, spreading the lube over her, over me.
“You’re perfect,” I murmur against her lips. “And I love taking care of you like this.”
I push in again, slower this time. She relaxes beneath me, and when I bottom out, we both freeze—chests heaving, bodies pressed tight. Her walls flutter around me like velvet, like her body was just waiting for the right rhythm, the right tenderness.
And fuck, I nearly come from the feel of her alone.
“Fuck, Brynn,” I groan, struggling for control. “You’re so perfect. Are you doing okay?”
She gasps, her nails biting into my shoulders. “I’m so good. Don’t stop.”
And I don’t. I pull back and drive into her again, harder this time, setting a rhythm that has her moaning under me like I’m everything she’s been waiting for.
Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper.
My mouth finds hers—sloppy and possessive.
I kiss her like I’m trying to memorize her. Like I’ve got something to prove.
The rhythm builds—faster, rougher. Our bodies crash together; her hands claw at my back. My teeth sink into her neck. She’s panting, crying out, saying my name over and over like it’s the only thing tethering her to earth.
“I love you,” I rasp against her throat, thrusting harder.
Her voice cracks. “I love you so much, Knox.”
I drive into her like I never plan to stop. My body’s on fire, pushed right to the edge. “Come for me again,” I pant. “Let me feel you break.”
And she does.
She convulses around me, body shuddering as she screams my name, her climax tearing through her like a wave. I curse, slam into her one last time, and fall with her—burying myself deep and spilling into her with a groan that tears straight from my chest.
We collapse in a tangled mess of limbs, sweat, and sheets, both of us wrecked, both of us breathless. The only sound is the whir of the ceiling fan and the soft rise and fall of her breath against my neck.
I roll onto my side, pulling her against my chest, not even bothering to grab the blanket. She’s warm and soft and exactly where she belongs.
She rests her head on my arm, one leg draped over mine, her fingers idly tracing a line down my ribs.
“So,” she says eventually, voice still rough. “Is this where you tell me I got the starting position?”
I laugh, low and loose. “Oh, baby. You’re team captain. MVP. Franchise player. All of it.”
She snorts, then kisses the center of my chest like she can’t help it. “I like this version of post-game interviews.”
“I’m very available for follow-up questions,” I murmur, running a hand over her spine.
“You’re also very naked.”
“Shocking,” I deadpan. “You ripped my clothes off in a frenzy.”
She hums, eyes closing. “No regrets.”
We lay there for a few more minutes in perfect silence. And when she finally falls asleep curled up on my chest, I press a kiss to her hair, hold her tighter, and whisper into the dark:
“I’m gonna marry you, Brynn Marlow.”