The Locker Room(92)

After a few painstakingly long moments, he lifts his head slowly, his blue, stormy eyes connecting with mine. His arms pulse at his side, his knuckles white from holding the molding so tight. Intense and impassioned, his body vibrates with mixed emotions passing through his eyes and for the life of me, I can’t read him.

Finally, his lips part and in a tortured voice, he says, “I fucking love you, Emory.” Every sound, every flash of light, every beat of my heart stops as he reaches out, grabbing me by the back of the neck, and hauling me toward him. Stunned, my hands fall to his chest finding my balance. He angles my head so I’m forced to look him in the eyes. “I love you so goddamn much that I can’t seem to let my heart stop bleeding until I have you in my arms. I need you in my fucking arms.”

“I . . . I . . .” Air is barely reaching my lungs.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same way. Tell me right now, and I’ll walk out this door and never bother you again, but if you have an ounce of love for me, you’ll invite me back into your apartment. What’s it going to be, Em?”

There’s confidence in his voice, a command I remember hearing many years ago, but it’s contradicted by the shake in his hand at the nape of my neck and the rapid beat of his heart beneath my palm.

I never stopped.

“Answer me,” he demands, his patience falling short.

“I . . .” My voice shutters. “I love you, Knox. I never stopped, and I don’t think I ever will.”

Lips tight, jaw flexing, I worry for a moment he’s about to push me away, but when he steps into my apartment and slams the door, he hauls me into his arms and walks us over to my bed where he lays me down gently and stands over me. Reaching over his head, he yanks on his shirt and pulls it off, revealing the sexiest chest I have ever seen.

Holy.

Shit.

Knox had already been fit with defined pecs and sculpted abs, but college Knox is nothing compared to grown-up Knox. He’s added on weight, but not fat, just pure muscle. He’s broader, has more meat on his bones. Above his hips, there are muscles that twitch and move with his breath. His abs are perfectly chiseled and sculpted. His arms and shoulders are sharp in their angles, bulky in all the right places, and between his pecs, there’s a definitive line where one begins and the other ends. An Adonis that takes my breath away.

And also makes me self-conscious.

I look to the side and bite my bottom lip, not really wanting to strip down in front of this athletic powerhouse.

“Lose the shirt, Em.”

I clench it tighter. When he sees my apprehension, he squats in front of me and lifts my chin. “Lose the shirt.”

“I’m different, Knox. I’m not the same girl.”

“Yeah, you’re right. You’re even more beautiful than I remember, so lose the shirt.” His hands go to the hem and he slowly pulls it over revealing my black cotton bra. My boobs are bigger because of the weight I’ve gained, and there’s more to my ass than there used to be. Not to mention, my stomach isn’t as flat, nor do I have as much confidence as I did in college. I never had a problem stripping in front of Knox before, but now, it feels like a spotlight is highlighting every insecurity.

I wrap my arms around my waist and look away. “I’ve put on some weight.”

Once again, he tips my chin with two fingers so I’m forced to look him in the eyes. “Trust me when I say this, Em. You are by far, the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.” He reaches behind me and with one hand, unclasps my bra, letting the weight of my breasts push the fabric down.

“Fuck,” he mutters, laying me back and hovering above me. “Em, your tits . . .” His voice cuts off as he takes one in his hand and squeezes. His hand works over the round globe, exploring its new size, my increased sensitivity. My nipples peak, and he takes that moment to lower his mouth to the rosy nub. With his head bent forward and his body over mine, I glide my hands across his back, every muscle twitching beneath my palm.

Sucking hard, he squeezes one breast while pulling on the other nipple, shooting waves of pleasure through my veins. The ache I have for him grows exponentially when he lifts up, smiles at me, and then grabs the waist of my pants and pulls them down along with my thong.

“Shit, Em.” He stares at me. “You wax?”

“Yeah,” I answer, my face burning red as he lowers himself between my legs.

We talked about this, we joked about it for months, we even bet on who would break first, so for it to finally be happening almost seems unbelievable.

“I’ve been dying to know what you taste like.” Without hesitation, he spreads my legs, pushing my knees out. He then licks his lips and looks up at me. “I’m not going another minute without finding out.”

His head dives between my legs as his fingers part me and his tongue reaches out and barely flicks my clit.

“Oh God,” I moan, my back sinking into the mattress as my hands fall to my sides, gripping the comforter.

“Are you still a virgin when it comes to your pussy being licked?”

I want to tell him yes, I want to tell him this will be the first time for me, but unfortunately, I wasn’t a saint over the last eight years, and I doubt he was either. Hell, I know he wasn’t. So I choose honesty.

“No.”

His jaw pulses as he studies me through lust-filled eyes. “Well then, I’m going to have to erase the memory of anyone else’s tongue stroking your clit.”