40. Knox
Knox
It’s late by the time we return to the penthouse.
Chey is curled against my side on the couch with her legs tucked under mine and her head resting on my chest. She changed into one of those little sets that drive me crazy—sports bra, tiny shorts, and bare feet.
I’m in nothing but my boxers, the TV playing something neither of us are paying attention to.
My hand drifts up and down her back in a comforting caress without conscious thought. I can’t stop touching her and making sure she’s really here.
That she’s okay.
I press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the faint scent of her shampoo as I try to calm the part of me that keeps replaying tonight on an endless loop. Dakota’s hand locked around her wrist. The stark fear on her face. Something inside me snapped the second I saw it.
“I’m so damn glad nothing happened to you,” I tell her.
She shifts, tilting her face to glance at me. “I’m fine.”
“I know.”
Although, that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about how much worse it could have been if I hadn’t gone looking for her when I did. It’s only when her fingers slide over my ribs that I’m pulled out of my head.
“Hey,” she murmurs. “Are you okay?”
For a second, I almost tell her the truth.
That no, I’m not all right. That the thought of something happening to her makes me feel sick in a way I’ve never experienced. That seeing another man put his hands on her in anger nearly sent me out of my mind.
Instead, I huff out a breath. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
She studies me for another second, as if she’s debating whether to push, before her expression softens. “Would you mind playing for me?”
The question catches me off guard. “The piano?”
She nods. “Yeah.”
“Right now?”
“Please? I kind of need it.”
The admission slips past the last of my defenses. Not because she asked, but because she’s allowing me to give her what she needs in this moment.
Without waiting for a response, she sits up and tugs my hand. “Come on.”
I let her pull me off the couch, even though part of me was perfectly content to stay where we were.
After turning off the TV, we cross the space and I settle on the bench, flexing my fingers over the keys.
Instead of taking the seat beside me, she climbs into my lap, facing me, her knees settling on either side of my thighs as her arms slip loosely around my neck.
I raise a brow. “You expect me to play like this?”
A small smile tugs at her lips. “Consider it an exercise in concentration.”
My hands settle on her hips, steadying her as she shifts closer. “You’re distracting as hell, baby.”
“Not up for the challenge, huh?”
“Where you’re concerned? Probably not,” I say with a snort.
I lift my hands to the keys, and the melody comes easily as muscle memory kicks in. After everything that happened tonight, it feels good to let the music drift over me, washing away the tension.
For a second, she watches me before her eyes feather closed, her forehead resting against mine as the notes fill the room. Time falls away as one song bleeds into the next. The piano has always had the power to calm me, and I love that it does the same for her.
My fingers stroke over the keys one final time before stilling. We sit in silence as the last note reverberates through the air. Her eyes open, gaze locking on mine. She’s close enough for her breath to ghost across my lips.
“That was beautiful.”
My hand slides up her spine, drawing her closer. “Not more beautiful than you.” I hesitate for a beat, then add quietly, “I like you here.”
Her lips curve. “Here?”
“In my lap. In my place.” My thumb strokes up her side. “In my life.”
Her breath catches.
Now that I’ve said that much, I can’t seem to stop. Tonight rattled me more than I want to admit, and hearing her talk about returning to LA has been weighing on me. If I keep playing it safe, pretending this is something I can control, I’ll end up losing her.
She studies my face. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I admit. “A lot.”
Her breath stutters. “Knox…”
I should probably slow this down and think it through. Find the right words so I don’t end up scaring her away. But all I can think about is how close I came to losing this moment with her.
If she ends up walking away without knowing how I feel, I’ll never forgive myself.
“I don’t want you to go back to LA,” I rasp. “I don’t want you disappearing from my life again.” I swallow hard. “The thought of losing you… It rips me apart inside.”
Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t pull away. “If Broadway doesn’t work out—”
“I don’t care if it works out,” I cut in. “Or about the show. None of that matters.”
Her hand tightens on my shoulder. “Then what does?”
I hold her gaze. “You.”
The floodgates open, and there’s no holding any of it back. My heart pounds so hard she can probably feel it.
“I’m in love with you, Chey.”
The words hang between us.
Her eyes search mine, as if she’s making sure she heard me correctly.
I force myself to keep going, even though every instinct tells me to shut my damn mouth. “I never meant for it to happen. Hell, I even tried to stop it.” A humorless laugh huffs out of me. “Guess that didn’t work.”
A small smile lifts the corners of her lips.
I push forward before I lose my nerve. “It’s hard not to fall for you when you’re like this.” My hand slides to her waist, pulling her closer. “Perfect. And now that I have you, I don’t want to lose you.”
There.
It’s all out in the open.
Emotion flickers across her face as silence stretches between us. Just as desperation starts to creep in, her arms tighten around my neck, drawing me in until her mouth finds mine.
“I don’t want to lose you, or this, either,” she whispers against my lips.
Relief surges through me as my hands tighten on her hips, unwilling to allow even an inch of space between us.
I’ve spent years dreaming about her.
About this.
And now that she’s here, in my home and in my life, there’s no way I’m letting her go.