“Oh. Okay. That would be nice.” The butterflies in my stomach have me stumbling over my words and regretting that last glass of whiskey.
Who does this, though? What man stands outside, waiting for a girl, so he can walk her home when it’s her family ranch and she lives a quarter mile away? This man, apparently.
He says nothing, just whistles at Rein, and we head toward my house, gravel crunching under our boots. Moonlight is the only source of light on the lane.
The walk is quiet. We don’t talk, but we don’t need to. The sky stretches wide above us, but the open air does nothing to steady my quick, nervous breaths. I can feel his body heat next to me in the cool night air. I feel his eyes flick over to me every few seconds. When the wind shifts, I smell bergamot with a touch of leather and sandalwood. I suppress a moan.
Damn, he smells good. Has he always smelled this good?
I feel myself leaning toward him before I catch myself and jerk away.
Knox tenses and puts his hands in his pockets but says nothing.
I refocus on the gravel lane winding ahead of us.
Rein, oblivious to the tension, runs ahead of us, then circles back, then runs ahead again.
He walks me all the way to my door before I finally find some words. Not the words I was expecting, but words, nonetheless.
“So, what would a gentleman do now?” I turn to face him, coming a step closer than I should. I blame the two glasses of whiskey and whatever heaven-made cologne he’s wearing.
He gazes down at me, always looking into my eyes like he’s searching for something. “You want me to tell you what a gentleman would do? Or what I would do?” His voice has a raspy edge to it.
I attempt to swallow my nerves, and his gaze drops to my throat. His eyes flare as he tracks the movement.
“Are you saying you aren’t a gentleman?”
He smirks, drawing my eyes to his mouth. “Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what I am.”
“What wouldyoudo?”
Yep, it’s definitely the whiskey making me this brave.
He reaches out, his fingers lightly grazing my wrist, setting my skin on fire. “Well, first, you would invite me inside.” He starts to run the pads of his fingers up my arm, painfully slow. “Then, I’d ask you how your day was. You’d tell me all about the things you did and what happened.” His hand has reached my shoulder now, and I have goosebumps that have nothing to do with the chill in the night air.
“Then what?” I ask, my voice sounding breathier than expected.
His fingers inch toward my neck. “Then I would pull you into my arms, tell you how beautiful you are, and kiss you. You’d moan into my mouth and push your hips into my hardening cock.”
Oh my gosh.
I thought men only said things like that in books. It’s like a switch has flipped in this man and this isn’t a game I’m going to win. I’m not sure I want to win if losing means his hands stay on me. I’ll gladly lose all day.
His other hand comes to rest on my hip, and I hear my breathing speed up. I start to lean into him. I’m clenching my thighs together and feel the moisture building between my legs.
“Then what?” I’m like a parrot repeating the same question over again, but I can’t help myself. For as much as I’ve tried to keep my distance from this man, I’m failing miserably tonight, and I’m not sure that I care.
He cups the back of my head. “Then, I’d tell you good night.” He drops his hands as a smirk crosses his face. “Goodnight, Kace.”
Uh, excuse me? My brain must be short-circuiting. Wait, what just happened?
He turns and walks down the steps as I huff out an angry breath. He just turned me on, then walked away.
Fine. Fuck. Him.
I don’t respond as I go inside and slam the door.
Joke’s on him, because I don’t need him.
