Empire of Sin(Empire #2)(52)

“Uh-huh. Your denial is adorable.”

I glare at him. “Don’t call me adorable.”

“Well, you are. Deal with it.” He motions at my phone. “Why do you like vintage music?”

“I’m an old soul that way. I like historical novels, music from decades ago, and everything vintage.”

“But you’re in IT.”

“An old soul with a futuristic mindset.”

The corners of his lips curve in a smile before it spreads all over his face. “I like that.”

My breath catches and it takes me a few tries to swallow it down. Hearing him say he likes that while smiling makes me think that maybe he likes me.

And that’s just stupid.

If there’s anything Knox has proved thus far, it’s that whatever is between us is only sexual, so I better kill that small voice whispering inside me.

“What’s your favorite band?” he asks.

“I don’t really have one.”

“Come on, everyone does.”

“Guns N’ Roses, I guess. They make me feel powerful.”

“You mean their music does.”

“What’s the difference?”

He’s poker-faced as he says, “There’s one. It’s their music, not the men in the band.”

“No clue about the logic in that, but whatever.”

We continue eating in silence, listening to the music and stealing peeks at each other. Or I am, anyway. Knox watches me openly, periodically narrowing his eyes on me and pursing his lips as if he disapproves of something.

“What?” I ask when he continues doing it.

“I want to see your real eyes.”

“W-what?”

“The blue ones. And don’t even dare say these are real. Without the glasses, they look fake as fuck.”

“I…can’t.”

“Why not? I already know your real name and what you look like.”

“Just…no.”

“Why?”

“Because…I don’t like it. Just like you don’t like looking into my eyes during sex. Do you see me asking about that?”

“Who told you I don’t like looking at your eyes?”

“Well, you’ve always fucked me or touched me from behind. Isn’t that indication enough?”

“I prefer that position.”

“And I prefer having these eyes.”

A muscle tics in his jaw and I expect him to insist, but he does something entirely different.

His voice lowers when he speaks. “I don’t like fucking from the front. It makes me feel less in control and brings back dark shadows from a past I like to keep buried.”

I’m suddenly hyperaware of the tension floating between us, as if he summoned it and its sole purpose is to suffocate us both.

“What type of past?” I ask in a murmur.

He shakes his head slowly. “You don’t get to ask that when you’re hiding yours.”

“I told you about my mom.”

“She’s not what you’re hiding from, so that doesn’t count.”

I purse my lips and attack another slice of pizza.

He just leans back on his palms, watching me with a grin. The asshole. “That’s what I thought.”

“I want my butterfly back,” I blurt out of nowhere.

He’s still grinning and I’m considering the best way to wipe it off his face, aside from the obvious option—murder.

“What makes you think I have it?”

“You mentioned it the other day, so that means you do.”

“Maybe if you show me your real eyes.”

“I will not.”

“Then I don’t have it.”

“Knox! That butterfly is important to me.”

“Apparently not enough, because you refuse to compromise.”

But it’s not a compromise. He’s demanding to see a part of me that will make me vulnerable and I refuse to play that game. “Are you always an asshole or only with me?”

“A little bit of both.” His grin widens.

“I hate you right now.”

“We have all the time in the world, so I’ll convince you otherwise.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Of course we do.” His voice drops when he says the words that make me shiver, “I’m not even close to being done with you, beautiful.”





20





KNOX





“Are you sure you’re only chopping the potatoes and not murdering them?”

Anastasia stares up at me from behind the kitchen counter, a delicate frown appearing between her brows.

She’s wearing a hoodie that barely reaches mid-thigh and keeps flashing me her lace panties every time she bends over or reaches up.

Needless to say, my dick has been twitching non-stop at the view. It’s one of the reasons I agreed to let her help me make dinner, despite the fact that she’s absolutely helpless when it comes to cooking.

However, she’s taking it seriously. Way too seriously, considering the concentration that’s written all over her delicate face, accentuated by the light hanging from the ceiling.