Unexpected Eva (Triple Trouble #3)(52)

Why didn’t I see how good we could be together before?

Our temples beat in time, his grip growing firmer with every swish of my hips.

Undeniably, we have intangible chemistry without the need for any verbal communication.

When he does speak, he slays me in unexpected ways with his thoughtful words. But this. This is everything I have wanted. Someone who connects, understands, and is in the moment with me.

Another firm brush of his thigh against my jean-clad pussy pulls a deep, raspy moan from my chest. I need to come.

Knox stops dancing, then instructs the lights to go off.

Plummeting us into darkness again, he removes his hand from my waist, unbuttons my jeans with Olympic expertise, thrust his hands down the front of my jeans, and he commands me to come.

With feral groans he smothers my lips with his mouth, attacking me with his tongue and intoxicating, velvety, indefinable scent.

He cocoons my ass cheek with his strong, frantic hand, thrusting my hips into the fingers of his other hand.

With a couple of quick flicks of my clit ring, I come, shattering in his arms as my orgasm cascades in waves. It’s violent, soul-shattering, and tender all at once.

Feeling like I’ve been stripped of all my senses, I can’t think straight. Or see, and it’s not from the dark; it’s the powerful orgasm he pulled from my body. It’s too much.

And yet not enough. I want more.

Wobbling on jelly legs, Knox blankets me in his arms, placing hot, gentle kisses down the side of my face and neck as my hard breathing subsides, finding peace in his arms.

“Same time next week,” he joshes between peppered kisses.

“I don’t think I can take any more. I need time to recover or work on my cardio or I need an energy drink or something,” I pant.

“I’ll help you with your cardio later tonight. Now button up your jeans, naughty girl.”

“So bossy.”

“I am the boss.”

“Of staff. Not me.” With no music on anymore, I fumble in the dark, pushing the metal donut button through the buttonhole of my jeans.

He chuckles in the pitch-black. It’s deep and velvety.

“Hello,” a voice bellows from the dark. “Eva, are you here?”

Oh, sweet baby Jesus, it’s my father.

Shit, shit, shit.

Frantically, I pull myself together, smoothing my clothes out.

What should I do?

Knox grabs me. With an oomph, I stumble into his chest, causing my heels to click against the wooden floor. Decision made.

“We’re here, Charlie,” Knox says in his authoritative tone.

“Eh, yeah, here, Dad,” I stammer.

“I knew you were here. Both of your cars are parked outside. Why are you dancing in the dark?”

“Alexa, studio lights on.” Thank Christ Knox is in control. I feel totally unhinged.

Squinting and blinking, adjusting to the bright strip lighting overhead, Knox holds me in place.

Knox saves us, he says, “Eva was teaching me how to dance without inhibitions. Building trust with her and using only my senses to lead and follow.”

That was too close for comfort.

I’m grateful I didn’t apply any lipstick, although my lips feel swollen as I rub my fingers over them nervously.

“Hey, that’s pretty cool, Eva. You’re such an incredible teacher.” He beams with pride. My dad thinks he’s twenty still and uses the word cool, ’cause he thinks he’s cool.

My dad's curiosity bounces off him. “Is this something new you’ll be rolling out to all of your students? Sounds interesting. Is it like bats and how they use their sound senses?”

I’ve no idea.

“I suppose it’s like bats, yeah.” I squirm.

Knox squeezes my waist playfully. “But no to rolling it out to everyone. It’s something I watched online one day. Won’t be trying that again.”

“No?” Knox looks down at me.

“No.”

“Was I not very good in the dark, Eva?”

Flustered, I move out of the dance position and tuck an invisible hair behind my ear, forgetting my hair is slicked back so tight I have ponytail ache.

I shake my head, screwing up my face, trying to think of what to say. “Mmmm, your footing needs work and your hands move too much.”

I’m a big fat fibster.

He’s an incredibly sensual dancer. Perfect, in fact.

“Hands or fingers?”

“Sorry, what?” I blink.

Knox looks at me with a mischievous smirk. “Do my hands or fingers move too much, or is it both?”

“Both. Both hands and fingers. Both need work. No moving and wiggling of the fingers or hands. Just waaaayyy too much of the twitching, digging, flicking.”

“Flicking?” He tilts his head.

Oh, he really is Lucifer.

Ignoring him, I face my dad again, who’s watched our whole weird interaction. “Did you want something?” I feel perspiration bead along my top lip.

“Oh, yes. I came to ask a huge favor, Knox.” My dad moves fully into the studio. “Ella asked me ages ago, then I forgot. She tried calling you and couldn’t get you, so now I am in the Guinness Book of Records under The Worst Dad title.” My dad runs his hand through his white locks. He’s such a handsome man. My mother says he’s her silver fox.