Loved that I got to witness Aiden morphing from a cute little boy into a scary-smart preteen attitude-monster who rolled his eyes at his dads but thought his Uncle Gage was hot shit.
Loved visiting Luke’s classroom of second graders to do computer classes each week and watching their skills improve.
Loved that Knox made me coffee every morning using the fancy beast of an espresso machine we’d bought as a joint second anniversary present and which he’d promptly forbidden me to use because “All heroes need an Achilles’heel, Goodman, and the inability to brew drinkable espresso is yours.”
Loved that we’d gotten into a routine of spending two weeks with my family in Whispering Key every January for “Second Christmas” and that Knox, who hated beaches, heat, and people in general, seemed to actually enjoy my dad’s treasure-hunting stories and my brothers’ teasing.
But when I’d spotted that email in Knox’s inbox… well, it had made me wonder, you know? Like, how much of that life I loved was the future Knox wanted? He’d never said differently, sure… but I’d also never asked. And while I knew his happiness wasn’t my responsibility, it was my priority because wanting the best for your partner was the gift-with-purchase that got dropped in your shopping cart when you fell in love.
So… what if he was prioritizing my happiness at the expense of his own?
Valid questions, maybe, but I was a little annoyed at myself for the way I’d reacted. After four years together, I knew that what made our relationship work wasn’t some magical “happily ever after” juju but the fact that Knox and I were committed to making it work.
Falling in love with each other had been so easy as to seem inevitable, but being good partners to each other? That was a fuck of a lot trickier, especially since one of us was so cheerful he tended to repress things, and the other had anxiety that manifested as grumpiness.
TL;DR, I knew better than to take good communication for granted… and I’d still fucked up. It was a good lesson, I supposed, not to get complacent or take things for granted.
And to be honest, I couldn’t be too upset at my overreaction… because Christ, that had been some amazing makeup sex.
Like, top-three-moments-to-replay-at-the-end-of-my-life sex.
And, cards on the table, I had a lot of sex to compare it to because Knox and I had a lot of sex.
As in… daily. Usually double-daily.
In all manner of positions, all over our house, and occasionally at other people’s houses… or more specifically, in their orchards.
Once on a Whispering Key sand dune (ten out of ten for ambiance, zero out of ten for practicality because sand is fucking insidious).
Once in the back of a pickup truck at a campsite when visiting Knox’s brother in western New York (seven out of ten for novelty, three out of ten for postcoital cuddles).
All of which was to say, I was a well-satisfied individual…
And still, I was fairly sure I’d been a virgin until this morning because that was how leveled-up our against-the-wall sex was.
I loved the rare moments when Knox lost a little bit of that urbane polish and got all growly, rough, and claim-y, but I’d never felt as thoroughly claimed as I had today.
I sighed happily.
Knox’s fingers traced lacy patterns across my chest. “You’re thinking awfully hard over there, Goodman.” His voice was rough. “Pretty sure overthinking’s my job in this partnership.”
I snorted. “Not when I’m thinking about how well you fuck me,” I retorted. “See, it’d be low-key arrogant if you were thinking about that.” I glanced over my shoulder and caught Knox’s green eyes. “Possibly even… dickish.”
Knox chuckled, the vibration sending a bolt of heat straight to my cock. “Is it arrogance, though, if it’s justified?” he mused.
“Obviousl—ohhh.” Knox’s hand clenched around my length, and the breath punched out of me. “Mmmpfh.”
“Uh-huh. You know what I think? I think you like me dickish, Goodman. In fact, I think it’s one of your favoritethings about me,” Knox whispered. His breath teased over my ear, and just like that, my whole body was on fire… again.
I would have blamed Hawk’s sex rooster, but I knew better. This was all down to Knox Sunday, who’d lit me up this way for literal years.
“Would you like to know what I like best about you?” Knox’s voice was rough, intimate in a way that made my heart skip.
“M-my devastating… wit?” I tried to sound casual, but the way his sure, knowing fingers stroked me kind of ruined the effect.
“That, too. But right now, I’m thinking about how you always surprise me.” The fingers of his free hand found my nipple and circled it slowly. “Four years in, I sometimes still can’t predict what you’re going to say or do next. I fucking love that.”
The simple words hit me hard. Knox was usually an acts-of-service guy more than a flowery-declarations guy, and when he changed it up like this, it killed me.
