21. Sawyer
Sawyer
Iwatch Knox’s expression shift as the words hang between us. His eyes darken, his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and heat pools low in my stomach.
I mean it. Every word. We’re terrible people who did terrible things and didn’t deserve Owen. We don’t deserve comfort or forgiveness or each other.
But that doesn’t stop me from wanting anyway.
“You want to feel worse, Thorne? You want me to tell you that you’re a piece of shit?” His voice drops, and he leans in closer. “That you’re wearing my dead brother’s ring while spreading out on his bed, looking at me with those big fucking eyes.”
“Yes,” I say.
His hand grips the blanket right next to my hip, close enough that I feel the energy coming off him. “You followed me up here. Chased me into his room. Why?”
“To yell at you for embarrassing me.”
“Bullshit.” His eyes rake over my face, down to where my chest is rising and falling too fast. “Why?”
“Because…” I roll my lip between my teeth, not knowing how to answer that.
“Because you wanted to feel worse?” he says, moving his other hand, caging me in. “Or did you want to feel me?”
Heat spread to my cheeks and neck. “Both.”
“That’s fucked up, Thorne.”
“So are you.” I reach up and fist my hand in his shirt, pulling him closer. “You made a scene down there. Forced everyone to look at me. Put me at the family table like you own me.”
“Maybe I wanted them to see you as mine. Owen’s name might have fallen from my lips, but that act was all me.”
“Who’s fucked up now?”
His forehead drops so we’re breathing each other in, just an inch closer and our lips would be touching. “But you liked it, didn’t you? You liked me claiming you in front of all those people. I bet it made you soaking wet.”
Fuck.
I should deny it and shove him away. But I whisper, “Yes,” quiet enough that maybe the Devil won’t hear me.
He makes a sound low in his throat, and his hand moves from the blanket to my waist, his fingers digging in. “We’re going to Hell for this.”
“Maybe we’re already there.” My free hand slides up to his neck, feeling his pulse racing under my fingertips.
His hand slips under the hem of my dress, grazing up my outer thigh. “Then what’s a little more sin?”
I should say something. This is so fucking wrong. But his lips brush against my jaw and every coherent thought evaporates.
His mouth trails down my neck, teeth grazing my pulse point, and I can’t stop the moan that escapes my throat. His hand moves higher, skimming my hip, and I feel him growing hard against me.
“I think about you every fucking day,” he murmurs against my skin. “Every time he touched you. Every time you were his and not mine.”
“Knox, please,” I beg, though I don’t even know for what.
“You wore that ring to torment me, didn’t you?” His thumb traces the edge of my thong. I fist his shirt and arch into him, causing a low groan to leave his lips. “I fucking know you did.”
“No.” But my body betrays me as I tilt my head to give him better access.
“Liar.” His teeth sink into my neck, not hard enough to mark but enough to make me gasp. “You wanted me to see it…wanted me to lose my fucking mind. Just like the hickey that day.”
His thumb slips beneath the fabric, so close to where I need him. I stop breathing, stop thinking, every part of me is focusing on how he feels against me.
“Is this what you wanted?” His breath is hot against my ear. “Me touching you in his bed? Me making you feel exactly how wrong this is?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “God, yes.”
His lips crash into mine, brutal and claiming, his tongue invading my mouth while his fingers finally slide through my wet folds. I moan into his mouth and his hips press harder against me, letting me feel exactly how much he wants this too.
My hands are everywhere—his hair, his shoulders, pulling at his shirt until buttons pop. But it’s not enough. I need skin. I need to feel him, all of him.
He circles my clit and my back arches off the bed, gripping his hair harder, scraping his scalp with the ring.
“That’s it,” Knox murmurs against my lips. “Be rough with me, Thorne. Be greedy. Take what you want…what you fucking deserve.”
I don’t deserve to feel good, but I’m selfish enough to take everything he gives me.
“Yes,” I moan.
He sucks and nibbles along my neck while his hand works between my thighs, and I’m so close already it’s embarrassing. Every nerve ending is on fire. Every thought has narrowed to this moment, this feeling, this—
There’s a knock at the door.
We both freeze.
“Knox?” Ella’s voice drags me back to reality.
Knox pulls back, his hand still under my dress, both of us breathing hard and staring at each other, eyes wide.
She knocks again. “Knox, are you in there? Your dad is looking for you.”
He hangs his head and slowly removes his hand. I blink a few times, realization of what we just did coursing through me. How close we were to doing more.
“Get up,” I say quietly.
He sighs but moves, adjusting his erection and fixing the buttons on his shirt with shaky hands. I get up too, yanking my dress into place.
“Fuck,” he mutters, running his hand through his hair. Hair I just had my fingers in.
My lips feel swollen. My skin is still burning where he touched me. And I don’t feel sorry.
I should. God, I should feel horrified and disgusted with myself but there’s only frustration that we got interrupted.
“Knox?” Ella tries the doorknob but it must have been turned to lock when I closed it earlier.
“Yeah, I’m here,” he calls out, sounding as frustrated as I am. “Just needed a minute. I’ll be down soon.”
“Okay.” She pauses, then adds, “Are you sure you’re alright? Can I help?”
“No. I’m fine,” he says, looking at me with dark, hungry eyes. “Be right there.”
Her footsteps retreat down the hall, and his shoulders relax. The silence between us now is thick and electric. Neither of us moves.
“We should…” I start.
“I know.” He takes a step toward me instead of away. “We should stop.”
“Yeah.”
“Go back downstairs.”
“Right.”
“Sawyer, if you don’t leave right now—”
“What?” I tilt my chin up. “What are you going to do, Knox?”
His eyes drop to my mouth. “You know what I’m going to do and you know it won’t be enough.”
I step closer, and drape my arms around his neck, speaking low against his lips. “Good.”
I brush my lips across his, sweet and slow.
A low rumble comes from his throat. “Fucking cock tease is what you are, Thorne.”
I step away, taking in the room one last time. I feel different than when I first came in here. Guilt sits heavy on my chest, but need is heavier. It feels right to leave this room without either of us getting off.
That’s what we deserve.
I move toward the door, my hand on the knob.
“Sawyer.”
I turn back.
His eyes drop to my left hand and his expression goes dark. “Take it off.”
“What?”
“That fucking ring.” He takes a step toward me. “If I see it on you again, I’ll rip it off myself. And I won’t be gentle about it.”
We stare at each other while I let his command hang in the air. Part of me wants to refuse, to tell him he doesn’t get to make demands, to keep tormenting him. But another part of me wants to obey so I can see the satisfied look in his eyes.
“Not yet,” I finally say.
He pulls a hand through his messy hair, jaw clenched. “Thorne…”
I meet his eyes, holding my ground. “I’ll take it off when I’m ready. Not because you told me to.”
“Fine. But the next time I touch you, that ring better be gone. Or I swear to God…”
I smile, loving the challenge. “You swear to God, what?”
He crosses the room in two strides, backing me against the door, his hand coming up to brace beside my head. His still hard cock, pressing against my stomach. “I’ll fuck you so hard you forget his name. I’ll make you scream mine instead. And that ring will be the last thing on your mind.”
Heat floods through me, and I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning.
“Is that a threat or a promise?” I whisper.
“Both.” His mouth hovers over mine, his exhales coming in short pants. “Now get out of here before I lock that door again.”
I slip out into the hallway, my heart pounding, my body still aching for him.
And I don’t look back.
I can think of at least ten things I should be doing right now and none of them are lying on my bed, still in my funeral dress, staring at the ceiling.
I have at least thirty unread texts, a dozen voicemails, piles of laundry from the lake, dishes in my sink, and nothing to eat except the leftover meat sauce.
But here I am replaying every second in Owen’s room, my face hot, along with every other part of me.
Knox’s hands, his mouth, his body. That look he gave me—like he wanted to devour me whole. How his voice deepened when he talked about next time, like it was a promise or maybe more like a warning. Not that I need to be warned…I’m ready for whatever he dishes out.
I should feel worse than I did before the services, and I expected to be drowning in grief and heartache. To a certain extent, I am…but it’s different now. Like I gave myself permission to accept what happened the moment I watched him get lowered into the ground.
That doesn’t mean I’m done grieving. No fucking way. My heart is still heavy…I still miss him, and always will. Maybe I’m just tired, I don’t know. Tired of letting the guilt eat me alive. It’s easier to just lean into the self-loathing, add to it, because that’s what I deserve.
If I really think about it, this thing with Knox…it was always going to happen. Wasn’t it?
Maybe not like this. Not after we survived hell and watched Owen die.
Not taking place in his bedroom hours after we buried him.
But somehow, some way, we were always heading here.
We’re two people who’ve been circling each other for years, pretending we didn’t feel what we felt.
Both of us trying to hide who we are and what we want.
I twist the ring on my finger, remembering his final promise as I left Owen’s room. My stomach clenches, imagining all the ways I can get him back now that I know how much it bothers him. He treated me like scum for years, so why should I obey?
Without thinking it through, I grab my phone and take a selfie of my hand resting on my chest, ring front and center, and send it to him.
It’s reckless. Ella could see it. He could open it, get angry, and storm over here. Not that I’d mind. And who knows what kind of secrets Ella’s hiding? I didn’t get to talk to her earlier, but I’ll find out soon enough.
He texts back immediately.
Remember what happened the last time you pushed me, Thorne?
My breath catches and heat floods through me.
Yeah, I remember.
I close my eyes, and I’m back there. Over two years ago, at Hailey’s wedding.