Worth It (Forbidden Men, #6)(49)

He gaped at me, startled. Then he winced with guilt and shame.

“Oh my God,” I blurted, slapping my hands over my mouth. “Your eye. Knox, what happened?” I stepped to him to touch the bruised side of his face, but he flinched away.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big...” I repeated, incredulous. Then I set my hands on my hips. “Knox Arrow Parker, yes, it is a big deal. Who did this to you?” He glanced away, and unease plopped heavily into the pit of my stomach. “Was it my brothers?”

“No,” he instantly reassured, taking my hands and giving me an earnest look. “This was...it was my own fault.”

I cocked my head to the side, not understanding.

He sighed and glanced away. “I didn’t want you to see because...it’s embarrassing.”

All my sympathies aching for him, I stepped in closer. When he didn’t shy away, I leaned up onto my toes and gingerly pressed my lips to the red spot. He closed his eyes and sighed as if he relished the contact. So I kissed his boo-boo again. Turning into me, he nuzzled his nose into my hairline and then wrapped his arms around me. “How do you always know how to make everything better?”

“It’s a gift.” Cupping the unwounded side of his face, I rained more delicate kisses over the slightly puffy skin. Something had to have made quite an impact to leave this much of a mark. I shuddered, wondering what he’d been through.

He merely held me close and tipped his face down toward me, allowing me to perform more tender loving care.

When I had him good and mollified, I kissed his jaw and murmured into his ear. “How did you get a black eye, Knox?”

“My dad,” he rasped, only to turn into me fully and hide his face in my hair.

I hugged him back, and we held each other for the longest time.

“I made us a picnic,” I finally said.

He made a sound in his throat; it reminded me of a sob. “I know. I saw. It broke my heart to watch you pack it back up.” He groaned his regret. “I should’ve just come out of my hiding spot and shown you my eye then.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I assured him, taking his hand. “We can still eat it now.” I led him back to the basket, but when I reached for it, he took it from me.

“I can carry it.”

I smiled at him. “Thank you. Do you want to eat at our tree? I think that’s closer than the dock.”

He nodded once. “Okay.”

So we walked to the tree and neither of us spoke the entire way. It felt strange, leading him along. He was never so meek. But whatever had happened between him and his dad must’ve rattled him. It took everything I had not to ask. Not yet, anyway. He’d talk when he was ready.

We reached the trees and made ourselves comfortable on the ground. His eyes lit up when he saw everything up close that I’d brought. Meeting my gaze, he sent me a half grin. “Good choices.”

“I had a feeling you might approve.”

Sitting side by side with our backs to the trunk of our tree and our shoulders brushing, we polished off everything. Neither of us spoke, but it was a comfortable silence, filled with a handful of glances and shared smiles.

As he was licking the last of the Doritos off his fingers, he rumbled out a moan of delight. “Mmm. One of my favorite flavors. Only one thing on earth tastes better.”

“What’s that?” I asked, determined to find this food he loved, as rare as it may be, and procure it for him, even if I had to travel to the ends of the earth.

He glanced at me, his lips curving warmly. “You.”

When he leaned toward me, I met him halfway, smashing my mouth against his. His tongue immediately spiked deep, gifting me with a hint of peanut butter, apple and ranch.

“You taste like heaven,” he broke away to tell me through shallow breaths. Then he tugged me onto his lap, and I was suddenly riding his erection through our clothes.

We’d only gone this far a couple of times, but I loved each and every encounter. I thought maybe I was ready to do more just as one of his hands landed on my waist, under my shirt. While his other hand buried itself into my hair, he slid his fingertips against my bare skin.

I sighed into his caress, welcoming it. His warm palm moved from my waist, around to my back. It followed my spine up until his fingers reached my bra. His lips left mine to move along my jaw, then down my throat. Following the line of my bra, he slid his hand around to the front until he was cupping me through cloth, but as soon as his thumb brushed over my straining nipple, I gasped and went rigid, not expecting the zing that went through me.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” His hand came out from under my shirt in record time and lifted in surrender. “Jesus, City. I don’t know what I was thinking. I should’ve asked first. I wasn’t... I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I assured him. I wanted to tell him he could put his hand back there. I’d actually liked it; it had just shocked me. But from the look on his face, he wasn’t going to touch me again, so I lost my nerve.

“I’m sorry,” I said this time, because I hated ruining the moment. I rested my head on his shoulder and he immediately wrapped his arms around me. “I just—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said and kissed my forehead.