Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 95951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
“Fuck,” Knox mutters. “You’re better off.” He leans down and presses a kiss to my temple. “I’m glad you’re no longer with him.”
Finally, I can’t take it anymore and turn to look at him. His blue eyes are burning with an intensity that I can’t name. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but I can’t seem to find the words. I can’t ask him if he feels this connection that strings between us. I can’t ask him why he’s always touching me.
If I’m being honest, I know why, but I refuse to admit it to myself. I’m pretty sure he feels this intense spark that ignites when we're together. I can also assume that’s why he’s touching me. Here’s the thing. If I say any of that or mention it, it might stop.
I don’t want it to stop.
Not the intensity of this pull toward him.
Not the touches.
“I’m breaking a million fucking rules,” he says, his eyes still locked on mine.
“I know.”
“I can’t stop it.”
“I know that, too.”
“He’d kill me if he knew.”
I shouldn’t ask, but I have to know. I need to hear him say it. “If he knew what?” I know he’s talking about Landry. My brother is only one of the hurdles we’d have to face. If we face them. I’m still unsure if this is a good idea, yet here I am, not pulling away. I could have removed myself from this situation, but I stepped into it instead.
Into him.
His hand slowly traces my spine, leaving trails of warmth as he goes. “That I can’t stop thinking about you. That I know touching you is wrong, but I crave it anyway. That it took every ounce of control I have inside me not to kiss the breath from your lungs when I had you in my arms and up against my truck earlier.”
“Knox.” His name is part whimper, part plea as it falls from my lips.
“We’ll figure it out,” he says softly. His hand lands on my hip, and he gives it a soft squeeze before stepping away.
The door opens, and suddenly, everyone is joining us. I pretend to be busy placing spoons in the side dishes. It’s a flurry of activity while everyone talks and makes their plates. Sloane and I are in the middle of it all, and somehow, I’m acting as if my world didn’t just flip upside down.
We’ll figure it out.
That’s what he said. I don’t know exactly what that means, but I do know that I don’t have the power to stop it. I can’t say no to him, and I don’t want to. I’m playing with fire, and I can confidently say that one of us, possibly both of us, is going to get burned, but this connection is too strong to ignore.
Chapter Eleven
Knox
* * *
I’m sure the food was great, but I didn’t really taste it. Instead, I had the taste of Corie’s skin on my lips from where I kissed her temple. It was a risky move when anyone could have looked through the glass door and seen me, but I couldn’t not do it.
That’s how it is with her.
I know it’s wrong. I know I have to stop, but I can’t. No matter how hard I try to keep my distance, something about her keeps reeling me in. Basically, I’m fucked. Well and truly fucked. I’ve never had a woman consume me like Corie does. If I were ever lucky enough to touch her—I mean, really touch her like I crave to do—I know there would be no turning back.
Dangerous.
That’s what she is. That’s what this situation is, and I still can’t stop. There’s a big part of me that doesn’t want to stop. I know how that sounds, and I’m crossing all kinds of lines, but there’s something different about her, about whatever this is, that ignites between us whenever we are in the same room together.
“Bro, good call on the pastries,” Landry says.
We’re all sitting outside at the patio table. Our bellies are full—well, everyone’s but Landry’s. I don’t think he’s ever full. The stars appear as day turns to night, lighting up the night sky.
“It’s a celebration,” I tell him. I don’t look to my right, where Corie is sitting with Sloane next to her. They’re both at the end of the table, their chairs shoved close together.
“Baby Reynolds is a Rampage!” Baker calls out.
Everyone cheers and looks her way, which means I can, too, without making it obvious. Turning slightly, I take in her smile and flushed cheeks.
Beautiful.
“She’s always been a Rampage,” Landry grumps, shoving another bite of a chocolate-drizzled croissant into his mouth.
“Yeah, but now she doesn’t need you,” Foster tells him. “She’s a Rampage all on her own.” He’s sitting to the right of Corie and holds his fist out for her. “Leaving big brother in the dust.”