Playing Hard to Get(91)

Since Knox has the bigger bedroom, he also has the connecting bathroom, to which he left the door cracked open. Steam from his hot shower billows out, making the room feel damp and humid and I shrug out of my cardigan, dropping it on the back of his desk chair. I hear a creak, the bathroom door swinging wide open, and I turn to find Knox standing in the doorway, clad in a white towel and nothing else.

“Oh. Hey.” He’s got another towel in his hands, scrubbing the back of his head, drying his hair. The towel hangs low on his hips and I’m pretty sure I can see the outline of his dick beneath the terrycloth.

A little sigh leaves me as I try not to stare. I am a lucky, lucky woman. I know this and remind myself of this little fact on an almost daily basis. And fortunately, there is nothing little about Knox Maguire.

Not a single thing.

“Hi.” I drink in all of that naked skin on display. He’s covered in water droplets because, for some reason, men can never completely dry themselves off after a shower, and I watch as one drop in particular slides down the ridged muscles of his abs, eventually disappearing into the towel.

He rubs his hand across his belly, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing. “You just get here?”

I nod, unable to speak.

“Nice.” He goes to his dresser and pulls open the top drawer, peering inside. “I probably don’t need to bother with putting on clothes, huh?”

My mouth is dry when he glances over his shoulder, that arrogant smirk on his face. The one I remember seeing back when we first met and I thought he was insufferable.

Sexy, but insufferable nonetheless.

“I thought you had a surprise for me,” I murmur, jumping when he slams the drawer shut and turns to face me again. The towel dips lower, revealing just a shadow of pubic hair. He doesn’t completely shave down there, thank God, because I think that’s kind of weird looking.

“Oh right.” He grips the top of the towel like he’s going to whip it off at any second. “I almost forgot.”

“What is it?” My voice is weak. So are my legs. I collapse on the edge of the bed, grateful to be sitting down.

“It’s no big deal.” He shrugs, walking over to the bed and sitting right next to me. I don’t even know how that towel manages to stay wrapped around his hips, but it does. And all I can think about is sneaking my hand under it and touching him. “I just wanted to make sure you’re satisfied.”

I glance up at him, frowning. “Satisfied? Do you mean sexually?”

He nods, his lips curled up in a closed-mouth smile. “Yeah.”

“Um…yes.” One hundred percent yes. Best sex of my life yes. Please keep doing what you’re doing because you guarantee me at least two orgasms per encounter, yes, yes, yes. “I thought it was obvious.”

“With the way I make you come all the time?” His smile grows.

My face is warm, but I refuse to look away from him. “That’s one obvious reason.”

“Maybe you just come easily.” He dips his head, his mouth brushing mine when he murmurs, “And you look so pretty when you do.”

“You’re the reason I come so easily.” He kisses me before I can say anything else, and I break away from him, frowning once again. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” Knox shrugs those impossibly broad shoulders, leaning in for another kiss, but I stop him, bracing my hand against his chest.

“Uh huh. Why, Knox?” I’m skeptical. Something is up. Knox usually has a reason for everything he does.

“It’s embarrassing.” He huffs out a laugh.

The great and mighty Knox Maguire is embarrassed? “Oh, now you have to tell me.”

“On the bus ride home from Saturday’s game, I was going to listen to the new book that was just assigned in my class, but I listened to something else on your app.” He pauses. “Make a Play.”

“Wh—” Oh.

Oh.

I went through a romance reading/listening stage that started just before Bryan and I split, and ramped up after we ended things. I was consuming a lot of extra sexy romance books for months, but then school and work distracted me. Then Knox came along and now here I am, living out a real-life romance fantasy with my very own sexy football player.

“That shit was hot, Jo Jo,” he admits, his voice low, his gaze molten.

An embarrassed laugh leaves me. “How much did you listen to?”

“A lot. I opened it up and you must’ve only listened to part of the book because it kicked off with a blowjob scene and went from there.” He shakes his head, whistling low. “It was wild.”

I cover my face with my hands. “I can’t believe you listened to a romance book.”

He peels my hands away, his expression amused, yet kind. He’s not making fun of me. I think he finds this…intriguing. “It was—educational.”

“Ha! I’ll say.”

“Is that what you want from me? Something like what’s in that book?”

This man. Can he not see he gives me everything I want every time we’re together? The butterflies. The anticipation. The heat and the throbbing and the Oh my God, I can’t believe this is happening to me vibes.

“You already give me that.” I decide to be one hundred percent truthful. “You are like my own personal book boyfriend.”