27. Sawyer
Sawyer
Gia left a little while ago after dropping off some pizza and wine. I wasn’t the best conversation partner. I’m hoping she didn’t notice.
I’ve read the same documents four times, while finishing off half the bottle of wine, and haven’t absorbed a single word. I’m uncomfortable, the guest house feels smaller tonight, like the walls are closing in every minute that I don’t hear from Knox.
I can’t believe he’s at Moretti’s house. The same guy that had the shit kicked out of him. Unarmed and alone with a barely formed plan. There’s no way this turns out in our favor.
My phone buzzes and I swipe it open immediately, holding my breath. But it’s only a promotional email. It’s been about an hour since he texted me. He’s got to be done there soon.
I try to distract myself with the case files again, spreading my annotated copies across the little kitchenette table, on top of the pizza box.
We’ve found a few inconsistencies in the original permit filings, dates that don’t line up with the construction timeline or invoices.
There’s small gaps that might mean nothing or might mean everything.
These could be the breakthroughs to show how Richard was hiding money.
I make a note to ask the lawyer about cross-referencing them with county records, and for a few minutes, I manage to focus on something other than Knox’s impending doom.
Then my phone buzzes again and every bit of calm flies out the window.
Gia: You good? Felt like a weird vibe tonight when I was over earlier, just checking in
I stare at the text. She always senses things. It’s a gift. I type back a vague answer—all good!—and immediately feel like shit for lying, especially considering how much she’s already done for me without question.
The silence afterward stretches so long I start pacing the same six feet of hardwood floor over and over, phone clutched tight enough to make my knuckles ache.
I can’t stop thinking about him showing up at my doorstep, bruised and beaten, barely able to stand. This was done by the same man he’s with now. Maybe it wasn’t Moretti’s own hands that delivered the blow, but he was the one who orchestrated it.
When I close my eyes to calm my racing heart, he’s there behind my lids. Knox, bloody and broken…not just the other night but from the accident too. Then it cuts to Owen falling…the screams, the terror. I’m next.
I open my eyes, forcing the images back down where they belong, breathing through the tightness in my chest until my heartbeat slows enough to think straight again.
He’s fine. I’d know if he wasn’t.
I don’t fully believe myself but repeating it helps.
It’s been an hour and a half now and still nothing. I force myself to sit back down at the table and read over more documents. It’s not helping—words blur together and worst-case scenarios push their way to the front of my mind.
I hate that I go there first. Knox never leaving Moretti’s house again. Or worse, Knox coming back to me, but Moretti deciding he’s seen or heard too much and killing him later, when we least expect it.
I should be thinking about the future. Knox and me somewhere far away from Ashford, doing something ordinary like grocery shopping or watching a movie.
A house that’s just ours, somewhere near a lake.
Lazy mornings in bed, holding each other, and never having to look behind our backs or feel bad for our love.
I want that so badly, I ache.
My phone rings, pulling me out of my fantasy, and I answer before the first ring even finishes.
“Knox?”
“Hey.” He sounds tired, his voice rough around the edges, but he’s alive and whole. “I’m okay.”
Relief hits me so hard that I have to hold onto the table before I tip out of the chair.
“Thank God. Tell me everything.”
“I got him to agree that my father’s a liability. He said he’ll cut him loose. Escalate is the word he used.”
Escalate? Does that mean? I don’t let myself ask the question.
“Is that what you wanted?”
He sighs and is quiet for a moment. “I don’t know now. I thought waiting on the attorneys and cops would take too long. I wanted to break Moretti’s ties to my father. I hoped if he knew my father was about to be in deep shit, he’d want to get far away from our family.”
“And the wedding?” I hold my breath, dreading the answer.
“Moretti still wants it, for Ella, apparently. He wasn’t budging, but I think he’s focusing more on the trouble my father can bring into his life now, so I don’t know. We’re running out of time, Sawyer. I—”
“It’s okay.” I rub circles on my temple. “Come back and we’ll figure out the rest together.”
“On my way, just needed to hear your voice first.”
“I’m here,” I whisper. “Come back to me.”
I wait outside in my nightshirt, swatting away mosquitos as I stare into the dark tree line. As soon as I see movement from the branches, I’m up and meeting him at the break in the fence, relief flooded through my veins.
“Hey.” He wraps his arms around me, and I bury my head in his chest, breathing him in. His smell comforts me more than he could know.
“I was so worried.”
“I know,” he sighs. “I don’t blame you.”
His lips find mine, and the scrape of his stubble, the heat of his mouth, it grounds me in a way I desperately needed.
I kiss him back, curling my fingers into his shirt to pull him closer.
A groan rumbles in his chest and his hand slides around my waist, drawing me in until there’s no space between us.
My breath catches, every nerve ending on fire where his fingers rest on my skin.
I want more, and the raw need of it catches me off guard.
I break away just long enough to breathe, but he doesn’t let us stay apart for long. His mouth claims mine again, hungrier this time, and then his hands are under me, gripping my ass, lifting me off the ground like I weigh nothing.
I wrap my legs around his waist, and he drags me against his cock, groaning into my mouth.
“Please,” I say. “I need you.” My breath comes in shallow pants. I’m ready to rip our clothes off, push him onto the grass, and take what I want.
But I don’t have to.
He walks me back until my spine hits the wall, rougher than normal, knocking the breath out of me for a second.
“Shit, sorry,” he says, fumbling with his belt, using the wall to hold me up.
“Don’t be,” I pant. “I can handle it.” I grind against him as much as I can, but it’s not enough.
“Fuck, Sawyer—” His voice breaks, and he kisses me, sliding his tongue between my teeth, licking into my mouth. One hand fists into my hair and he tilts my head exactly where he wants it, swallowing my needy moans.
His lips move to my jaw and down my throat, teeth grazing my skin, making my core ache. I tip my head back to give him more room.
“Knox,” I gasp when he sucks hard enough to leave a mark.
He pulls back to look at me with dark, heated eyes, then he hauls me over his shoulder. “Not here. I need to take my time.”
I let out a sound that’s half laugh, half gasp and brace my hands against the solid muscle of his back.
“I could get used to this.”
He cups my ass to hold me steady, smacking it playfully as he carries me across the lawn. “You got it. Carrying you everywhere from now on.”
Such a wiseass. A sweet wiseass, though. Who would have thought I’d ever call Knox Aldrich sweet.
He kicks the door shut behind us and tosses me on the bed. I bounce a little, catching my breath as I watch him look down at me, chest rising and falling like he’s barely holding onto his control.
“I want you in every way possible,” he says, voice low and rough. “I want your mouth. I want to bury myself in that ass. I want to feel you come around my fingers before I even get inside you. I want to hear you beg for it, and then I want to give you exactly what you’re begging for.”
His words have me aching. Literally throbbing, dying to be fucked.
“You’re looking at me like you want that too. Am I right, baby?”
“You know I do,” I say.
“Then take off your clothes. Let me look at you.”
I sit up on my knees, feeling his eyes on me like a physical touch, and pull my nightshirt over my head slowly, dragging it out to tease him. My underwear are off next, and I toss them both aside without breaking eye contact.
He doesn’t move from the edge of the bed, but I see the subtle shift in his body language. He’s memorizing every detail.
“Fucking perfect.”
Heat spreads up my neck and to my face, but I don’t argue him. If he thinks I’m perfect, then I’ll take it.
He crooks his finger, and I crawl down the bed toward him, my sensitive nipples grazing the blanket as I move. Once I reach him, he touches his zipper. “Take them off.”
I raise a brow and roll my lip between my teeth, doing exactly what he asked.
Button first, then zipper, before tugging them down to his knees.
His cock’s jutting out of his boxers, thick and hard.
I don’t think or wait for direction. I pull his boxers down, wrap my fingers around the base of his length, and suck.
“God…your mouth.” He clutches onto my hair, and his breathing goes sharp and ragged.
I let saliva pool in my mouth, and swirl my tongue around his head, loving how he’s losing control.
“Fuck, just like that.” His hand tightens in my hair, guiding without forcing, and I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks the way I know drives him crazy.
His hips rock, as he hits the back of my throat.
“Sawyer…God,” he groans, pulling back, tugging himself out of my mouth with a shaky breath.
A string of saliva follows. “Shit…I don’t want to come yet. ”
He drags me up by the arms, kissing me hard. Then he climbs up the bed and lays on his back, head propped against a pillow. I move to straddle him, when he wraps his hands around my waist, lifting me up his torso.
“Climb up here and sit on my face.”
My face floods with heat, but I’m too turned on to hesitate. I work my way up his body until my knees frame his head, and he grips my thighs, guiding me down on his mouth.
“Oh, God,” I gasp. He’s not easing me in, not taking it slow. He eats like he’s starved. It doesn’t take long for me to roll my hips, chasing my release. All semblance of inhibition is out the door, there’s no room for it.
I brace a hand on the headboard, trying to ease some of my weight off him, but his fingers dig into my thigh pushing me back down, holding me right where he wants me.
His tongue laps and flicks, pulling sounds out of me that I’ve never heard before. “Don’t stop.”
He answers by pulling me closer, using his strength to guide my hips. I’m so close, grinding shamelessly as he lets out a groan that I feel everywhere.
“Knox, I’m—”
Right as that first wave of pleasure hits, he grips my hips and lifts me up, moving fast, flipping me onto my back before I can even process what’s happening. He lines himself up and fucks into me in one hard thrust, hitting that perfect spot inside.
“Fuck—” My back arches off the bed as my orgasm tears through me. I dig in with my nails, holding him as deep as he can go, but it’s still not close enough.
“That’s it,” he says, watching me come apart. “Jesus, fuck, Sawyer, you feel so good.”
I’m shaking, barely able to breathe from the pleasure. He keeps going, pounding into me deep and relentless. Then he hooks an arm under my knee, pushing it toward my chest, and I cry out.
Our moans are so loud I’m afraid we’ll wake Miriam. The headboard thumps, our skin slaps, nonsensical words slip from our lips. Pressure builds and builds, another orgasm coming to a peak.
“Sawyer…fuck,” Knox cries as he stills inside me, coming hard. I tumble over the edge, contracting around him. “You’re choking my cock so good.”
“Mmm, don’t move. I want to keep you right here,” I say.
Finally, both of us completely wrecked, he kisses my shoulder and rolls to the side. We’re sticky messes, panting and exhausted but I’m so damn elated.
I’ve almost forgotten where Knox went tonight. I know I should ask about details, hear what was said, what he has planned, but bursting this bubble we’re in is the worst thing I could imagine.
So I let him hold me while I stroke his back, and within minutes, his breathing deepens and he’s snoring lightly.
I lay awake for a while after, listening to the sounds of nature outside mixed with Knox’s quiet breathing beside me, hoping that tomorrow will be better.