A pipe burst in Ian’s building the other night, so Rose and I have extended our stay at The Chapel while Ian camps out at Mel’s. “Seriously, we need to get back to our routine,” I grumble.
“Do you?” he asks. “’Cause we could just make a new routine. Like, it’s 9 in the fu—freaking morning. A couple of weeks ago, my lazy...tush would still have been in bed for another three or four hours. But these days, waking up early has its perks. Routines are great, but sometimes they’re worth switching up, that’s all I’m saying.”
“Fair enough, but Ian said everything should be fixed by tomorrow or the next day at the latest, so…”
“So... Let’s table this discussion until tomorrow, huh?”
I roll my eyes. “Fine.”
He kisses my cheek then turns toward the fridge. “Want some eggs?”
And this is why we need to move back out. Not that I mind Knox making breakfast or waking in the night to feed Rose and rock her back to sleep.
But we’re playing house, and I know it. And I’m getting attached. Each kiss, each touch, weakens my resolve. It’s so easy being here, but life can’t always be easy—that’s what I have to remember.
I sip my coffee, and Knox serves up eggs for me and Rose. Booker comes in from an early morning skate and gives Rose a kiss.
“Hey, Willa, how’d you sleep?”
We talk for a while before Ty and Phoebe come down; then Whit joins in.
Before long, they’ve all left—even Knox and Rose—and I have the house to myself. I made that offhand comment at Breakfast with Santa last week, but Knox took it seriously and gave me the day. I have no clue what I’ll do with the time, but I’m kind of excited. It’s a strange feeling. I can’t remember the last time I was alone like this. Surely it must’ve been before Rose was born. I feel a little guilty sending her to daycare since I have the day off, but it’s part of her routine, and there’s a little holiday party, so I know she’ll have a good day.
But I’m free all day since Mel needed to switch shifts, and I’m going to enjoy it.
Well, I’ll enjoy it after I do some laundry…
Three hours later and the house is clean, our laundry is folded, I’ve watched TV, and read two chapters of my new book.
But I’m bored. Well, not bored, exactly...but restless. I lie back on Knox’s bed—that I just freshly made—and close my eyes. Sleep won’t come, but I relax and my thoughts stray to the novel I was reading. The dryer dinged in the middle of a particularly delicious scene, and I was momentarily distracted. But now, my thoughts wander back to that scene, and I can see it all in vivid detail. The hero had his girl backed up against a door, their bodies pressed together, his hardness flush against her curves. Almost without my permission, my hand strays down my body and lingers there. I feather a light touch between my thighs, and a surge of electricity rushes through my body. It’s been so long, and these last few nights have been torture. Lying next to Knox is so tempting and it’s getting harder to stay away. Maybe if I... take care of things, I’ll have an easier time resisting him. Yes. That’s it. I’ll take the edge off, and then I’ll be able to think straight when he’s around.
I check my phone and realize I have at least two hours before he comes home. And with finals coming up, everyone else has been scarce.
Feeling bold, I stand and strip, leaving my leggings, bra, and long-sleeved tee in a puddle on the floor near the foot of the bed. Turning back the covers, I crawl in between the silky sheets. They’re cool against my skin, and my nipples harden. God, it’s been so long since my body has been used for anything other than practical purposes. It feels decadent to lie here and touch myself like this, so I revel in it. Closing my eyes, I trace the curves of my body, spreading my legs wide as I feel myself getting wet. I dare to slip a finger between my folds, and holy hell, it feels so good that I cry out with abandon, not caring how loud I am. For once, I’m all alone and I’m taking full advantage of the situation. I bend my knees and scooch my feet back toward my butt, then run my fingers along the seam of my sex—up and down. As wetness pools between my thighs, I spread it across my body. I’m making a damn mess of these sheets, but I don’t care. I enter myself with two fingers, gasping at how good it feels. My body is alive and electric, and I cry out again as I circle the tight, needy bud of my clit with my index finger. I moan with pleasure, but it’s not my own voice I hear in response.
It’s Knox's.
* * *
Knox
“Holy fuck,” the words leave my mouth and the shocked look on Willa’s face are the only indications that this moment is really happening; that it’s not all a dream.
Because I have definitely dreamed about Willa coming apart in my bed.
I just never figured she’d be getting herself off.
But sweet hell, I am here. For. It.
I lean against the door and cup my junk because I’ll blow my goddamn load otherwise.
“Knox?” Willa squeaks. “I thought you were—”
“Yea, my Stats class got out early, and my Psych professor canceled so we could study for the final. So I…”
She clutches the comforter to her chest and scooches down the bed, reaching over and grasping for clothes that are way out of her reach. I should be a gentleman and hand them to her. Or I should leave. Tell her I'm going for a drive or some shit. But I’m no gentleman.
“Jesus, baby, don’t stop,” I coax, still holding my junk. Fuck, I’m hard. I could look at her all day—fully clothed, wearing her coffee shop apron, or holding our daughter. But the sight of her naked, touching herself? Holy hell. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
