The Locker Room(62)

My hand travels up and down his back as his lips press gently into my neck. He takes in a deep breath and sighs.

“Fuck, babe, I don’t want you to leave.”

“I know.” His head lifts, and he pushes a stray lock of hair behind my ear. I hate that we won’t see each other for a month. “What happens if you run into an old fling in Texas?” I hate how insecure I sound right now, but I can’t help it. I’m close to tears. I don’t want to leave him. I don’t want to lose him.

“Clearly I’m going to fuck her.” His joking smile does nothing to ease my worry. “Come on.” He squeezes my side. “You know I’m kidding.”

“I hate to be that girl, but I don’t find that crap funny. You know what happened with—”

“Shit, Em, I didn’t mean it like that.” Immediately his face softens with understanding. “I’m sorry.” He leans down and runs his lips over mine before pressing his palm above my heart. “This right here, this belongs to me.” He takes my hand and presses it above his heart. “And this, this right here belongs to you. There is nothing you need to worry about, okay?”

I know he’s right. He’s done nothing but show me true commitment. Through our make-out phase. He’s been patient, willing to wait, even now when he showed incredible restraint. Respect. He wants to know me, not just my body, and I truly love that about him.

“Okay.” Tears start to well in my eyes. This is so stupid. I was never supposed to get involved with someone right after Neil, but somehow, Knox Gentry wiggled his way into my world, and I can’t seem to shake him . . . not that I want to. The darkness that clouded my heart after Neil and I broke up has gone, and my soul is beginning to feel again.

Knox is everything I’ve hoped for in a man. He makes me laugh, he challenges me, keeps me on my toes, and . . . he cares about me. In the last few months, he’s shown me the type of man he is: genuine.

“Hey, don’t get upset.” One tear falls down my cheek and I blink rapidly to hold back the others.

“I’m sorry.” I wipe my eyes, chastising myself for showing emotion like this. “This is stupid, I don’t know why I’m getting so upset.”

“Because you like me . . . a lot, and you’re going to miss me.” When I don’t answer him, he says, “You don’t have to say it, Em. I can see it. I can feel it. And guess what, I’m going to miss you so fucking bad too.”

With both hands, I cup his cheeks and bring his mouth to mine where I seal our lips together, wanting to capture as much of him as possible before I leave.

One month without Knox.

One month without his smile, his laugh, his teasing.

One month without his caring caresses and insane surprises.

One month without his hands, his mouth, his cock.

One month without . . . us.

I’m not sure how I’m going to make it.

I just hope after one month apart he still wants to be with me, because even though I wasn’t looking for this, he’s stolen my heart. And I don’t want him to let go.

Maybe ever.





Chapter Twenty-Three





KNOX





“Tell me all about her,” my mom says, taking a seat across from me, tea in hand and a plate of toffee from Grandma Sue between us.

“Where do I start?” I ask, looking at the ceiling of our humble ranch on our three acres of property. It’s small compared to most properties in our ranching town, but we’ve lived here for nearly twenty years, have two horses and some chickens, doesn’t take a huge amount of maintenance, so it works for our family.

“Do you have a picture?” Ever since I got back home, my mom has been grilling me to talk about Emory, but I keep putting her off, wanting to get some much-needed sleep from the grueling semester. When I woke up this morning, I told her I’d tell her everything she wants to know after I worked out, took some swings in the cages, and did some chores around the house.

Once I was out of the shower and dressed, she was waiting outside my bedroom, tin of toffee in hand, and a giddy look on her face. All she said was, “It’s time.”

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my phone and hold up the screen to her. A few weeks ago, I changed my lock screen and wallpaper to a picture of Emory smiling at me. Her honey-colored hair falls past her shoulders in waves, she’s wearing one of those sexy skirts of hers, and her thick lips are painted in pink. Sometimes, I just stare at it because that’s how infatuated I am.

Gushing, my mom says, “Oh Knox, she’s beautiful. How cute are you for having her on your phone?” She studies the picture a little harder. “Are those her real lips?”

“Yes.” I hold back the sigh. They’re very much real; if only I knew how they felt around my cock.

“Well, she’s stunning, but does her personality match her looks?”

“Easily,” I answer, taking the phone back. “She’s really sweet, timid at times, and I don’t think she realizes how beautiful she really is. And fuck, Mom, she’s funny. Loves giving me shit.”

“Now that’s my kind of girl.” She sips from her tea. “Are you in love?”

I shrug, truly unsure. “I’m obsessed, not sure about love. I’ve never been in love before, so I don’t really know. But, I will tell you this, I fucking miss her hard right now.”