Chapter 17
The beach house feels like a dream.
I wake to sunlight streaming through French doors and the memory of Knox's hands on my skin. Two days into our two-week deal, and everything feels possible here – away from campaigns and scouts and everyone's expectations.
"Morning." Ace's voice carries from the kitchen. "Sleep well?"
If he only knew. Knox had snuck into my room last night, spending hours teaching me exactly what his mouth could do before disappearing like a dream.
"Great," I manage, trying not to blush. "Where's Knox?"
"Running on the beach." Ace slides me coffee. "You two seem... intense lately."
I hide my smile in my mug. "Do we?"
"Just... be careful, okay? Knox is—"
"Your best friend?" I cut him off. "The guy who always has your back? The one who—"
"The guy who's never been in love before." Ace's voice gets serious. "Which means he doesn't know how not to screw it up."
Before I can process that, Knox appears in the doorway, shirtless and sweaty from his run. My mouth goes dry.
"Morning." His eyes lock on mine, heat flickering in them. "Sleep okay?"
"Perfect." I bite my lip, watching his eyes track the movement. "Really... good sleep."
Ace groans. "I'm going to town. Try not to do anything disgusting while I'm gone."
"Too late," I mutter into my coffee, making Knox choke on his.
The moment Ace's car disappears, Knox has me pressed against the kitchen counter. His hands slide under my sleep shirt. "Everyone thinks you’re so innocent, but you’re really not."
I shake my head. "I’m really not." I arch into his touch. "I’m counting down the days. It’s thirteen days now."
His mouth cuts me off, hot and demanding. I sink into it, loving how he surrounds me – the solid warmth of his chest, the familiar smell of sweat and ocean air.
"Shower," he growls against my lips. "Now."
We barely make it upstairs, leaving clothes scattered across the hallway. The shower is huge, steam filling the air as Knox presses me against cool tiles.
"Fuck," he murmurs, hands mapping my skin. "You’re so fucking beautiful."
He turns me around and looks at me from behind. His noise sends chills down my spine. I wonder if he likes what he sees. And then he’s pressing his hard dick against my ass while he whispers in my ear, "You have no fucking idea what I want to do to you right now."
"What are you waiting for?" I ask, pushing my ass against his dick.
"Thirteen days," he whispers. Then his fingers are at my entrance. "For now I’m going to fuck you with my fingers. It won’t break your cherry, baby. I promise."
He slowly inserts a finger as he moans into my ear. "Holy fuck. In thirteen days, this is going to be my dick."
I push my ass out so he can go deeper. His finger feels so fucking good. He slowly pushes in and out and the sensation is making me moan. If this feels this good, I can’t imagine what his dick will feel like.
"Kennedy," he growls. "You’re so fucking tight. When this is my dick, I don’t think you’ll be able to walk."
The thought of him taking my virginity turns me on. "I wish you would take it right now."
His chuckle is devilish. "Don’t fucking tempt me."
"Come on, baby," I whimper. "Don’t you want me?"
"More than anything."
His finger moves faster, and I think he inserts another one, causing me to cry out in pleasure.
"Your fucking ass is beautiful." He grabs my ass with his other hand. "Do you like being fucked by my fingers?"
I nod, trying hard not to moan too loud. "Yes."
"Do you want my mouth?"
"Yes."
He spins me around as the water falls on his face. He works his mouth against my pussy and inserts his fingers again.
"Holy shit," I cry. "Please."
My body convulses at the pace he’s going. I cry out, not caring about the noise I’m making now as I reach my peak. My body releases and I’m grinding, moving my hips, against his mouth.
"That’s it, baby," he says, muffled.
I’m trying to catch my breath but it’s impossible. He stands, hovering above me.
"Grab my dick."
I do as he says, watching him as I pull him towards me.
"Put it in your fucking mouth."
The demand turns me on, so I kneel and suck him.
He warns, "I’m already at the edge, baby. You don’t need to do much."
I give him everything I have. I want to taste his sweet and salty come inside of my mouth. I want to watch him let go and release because of me.
I pull back and look at him.
"What’re you doing?" he asks.
I lick him. "Do you want to… fuck my mouth?"
His reaction is sexy while he grabs my chin. "Can you handle it?"
I stick my tongue out and nod.
"Fuck yeah," he says. "I’ll go slow."
He controls my head as I hold my breath. He starts slow, watching me take his dick in my mouth. He reaches my throat and moans.
"Baby," he groans. "Holy fuck. You can take my dick so fucking deep."
I nod.
"Such a fucking good girl."
He does it again slowly and then pulls out. He starts picking up his pace, and I feel like I’m suffocating but absolutely loving it. His head rolls back after a few pumps and then he’s coming down my throat. He pulls out quickly, and I can breathe again.
"So fucking good," he says, pulling me up and kissing my mouth. He lifts me up, so I wrap my legs around him. When his dick presses against my opening, he says, "You’re everything to me. I probably won’t fucking say it enough outside of this moment, but you are, Kennedy. Don’t ever forget it."
I nod, feeling like I’m on top of the world.
He presses his dick against me. "This dick. Me. All of me…is yours. And you’re mine."
I kiss him, feeling the water get cooler.
"You’re all mine."
The rest of the beach week passes in a haze of stolen moments.
We don’t have another shower together, but he’s holding my hand and kissing me.
We play board games and stay up all night.
He helps me in the kitchen and cleans with me.
I could see us together in the future just like this.
Each kiss leaves me desperate as I continue to count down the days.
Then we return to reality, and everything shifts.
"Perfect timing," Patricia says the moment we're back. She hasn’t lectured me about staying with Knox. "Your father has three campaign events this week. The press wants family photos, interviews about your relationship..."
Just like that, the dream bursts.
Knox plays his part perfectly – charming reporters, handling interview questions about our love story, looking every inch the reformed bad boy who found redemption in the senator's daughter.
Too perfectly.
"Tell us," one reporter asks at a fundraising dinner, "what made you fall for Kennedy?"
Knox's answer is smooth, practiced. "How could I not? She sees the best in everyone, even someone like me. Makes me want to be worthy of that faith."
The quote makes all the papers. My father actually smiles when he reads it.
"Perhaps I was wrong about him," Dad says over breakfast. "He seems to be a stabilizing influence. Keeping you focused on your future instead of... rebellion."
The words hit like a slap. Because that's exactly what this started as – rebellion. Using each other for our own ends. And it turned into my father’s approval. It was quite the opposite I was shooting for.
But this is different now. Isn't it?
"Kennedy?" Knox's voice pulls me from my thoughts. We're at another campaign event, his hand warm on my back. "You okay?"
"Fine." But I'm not. Because he's being perfect again – saying all the right things, charming all the right people. "Just tired."
He studies my face. "Want to get out of here?"
"Can't." I gesture to where Patricia is waving us over. "Duty calls."
The next few days pass in a blur of appearances and interviews. Knox grows more distant with each one, pulling away whenever we're alone. The passion from the beach house feels like a dream.
"Maybe it's the pressure," Sawyer suggests when I confide in her. "The combine is next week."
"Maybe." But I can't shake the fear that it's something else. That he's realized he doesn’t want this life with me. I’m the Senator’s daughter, and that comes with pressure. He is playing along way too well. I’m still counting down the days, but it doesn’t feel like we’re connected anymore.
The final straw comes during an interview with a magazine. The reporter asks about our future plans.
"Taking it day by day," Knox says smoothly. "Kennedy's been good for me. Helped me grow up, you know?"
Grow up. Like I'm some phase he needed to get through. Some rebellion he had to overcome.
Later, in my dorm room, I stare at the ceiling and try not to cry. Because maybe that's all this ever was – him helping the senator's daughter through her wild phase, using it to clean up his image for the draft.
Maybe the beach house was just another lesson. Maybe every touch, every kiss, every whispered promise was just part of the game.
Maybe I'm the only one who stopped pretending.
My phone buzzes with a text from Knox.
Knox: Miss you, Princess. Two more days until the combine. Then I'm all yours.
But am I his? Or just another carefully managed part of his path to the NHL?
I fall asleep with his hoodie pressed to my face, trying to remember how real it felt at the beach house. Trying to believe that somewhere between fake kisses and real feelings, he fell as hard as I did.
Trying to ignore the voice that whispers: Some things are too good to be true.