Then get home to Memphis.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MEMPHIS
W hen you’re ready, I’ll be here.
Was I ready?
A week ago, no. Knox had picked up on my hesitancy and hadn’t pushed too fast. But now? Maybe I’d needed the week to wrap my head around this. To let him kiss me often. To smile when he smiled. To open my mind to the idea of a someone.
Maybe I’d needed the week to remind myself that Knox wasn’t Oliver. And to remind myself that I wasn’t the same Memphis who’d been blinded by Oliver’s charm.
Not fooled.
Blinded.
The person who’d stolen my sight had been me. I’d shut my eyes to his faults and seen only good looks, money and status.
But I’d had my eyes opened thanks to a baby boy. And when I looked at Knox, I saw the best man I’d ever known.
He had the looks. He had the charm. He had the money and, in Quincy, plenty of status as an Eden. But none of it seemed to matter to him. He cared about honesty and integrity.
Family and hard work. He treated me like I was precious and desired.
Was I ready?
Headlights flashed through the window and I leapt off the couch, racing for the door.
One glance at Knox at the base of the stairs and I didn’t need to ask myself any more questions.
My heart answered with a resounding thump. The landing was frozen and cold, but I stepped outside in my bare feet anyway, waiting as he jogged up the stairs. “Well? How’d it go?”
Knox answered by sweeping me into an embrace and carrying me inside, pushing the door closed behind us with his foot. Then his mouth was on mine, our lips melding in that slow, delicious tangle I’d become addicted to this week.
I was breathless by the time he finally set me on my feet.
“So? Did Lester like dinner?”
“He told me it was a bold move to serve him mac ’n’
cheese. I told him I had a woman at home who’d promised me it was the best in the world. He agreed.”
“Yes.” I flew at him, jumping into his arms because I knew he’d catch me. “I knew it. I knew he’d love whatever you made.”
“I’ve got leftovers in the truck. Want some?”
“Later.” I dropped my lips to his, losing myself in his taste and his tongue. My legs wound around his hips and when I felt his arousal press into my center, this time, I didn’t back away.
As one of his arms moved to hold my thigh, I arched into him, earning a low growl from deep in his chest.
He tore his mouth away. “Fuck, but you can kiss.”
I smiled, pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips. “Kiss me again.”
“I better walk out that door while I still can.”
“Stay,” I whispered.
His hold tightened, his eyes darkened with lust. “Memphis
—”
“I’m ready.” I ran my fingers through his thick hair. “I wasn’t a week ago. But I am now.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.” I trusted Knox. With my body. With my heart.
He was leaning in, his lips almost brushing mine, when he froze.
“What?”
“Drake.”
Oh, shit. What was wrong with me? I’d been seconds away from jumping Knox and my son was sleeping in his crib. “I’m a horrible mother.”
Knox chuckled. “You’re not a horrible mother. But let’s take this to my place.”
“I don’t have a baby monitor.” They were expensive, and since Drake and I lived in a single room, what was the point?
“Think he’ll stay asleep if you load him up?”
“Maybe.”
“Worth a shot. You get him.” Knox set me down on my feet. “I’ll get the crib.”
I tiptoed across the loft, picking up Drake and wrapping him in a blanket.
In the time it took me to pull on a cardigan and step into a pair of shoes, Knox had the crib folded up and the diaper bag hung over his shoulder.
Maybe this was reckless. Not long ago, I’d had a nuclear explosion of a breakup. Yet as I followed Knox across the driveway to his house, my feet danced over the gravel. A smile pinched my cheeks.
Every step was full of anticipation. Every heartbeat thrummed beneath my skin.
Knox Eden, for tonight, was mine.
He led the way into the house, then straight down the hallway toward the guest bedrooms. He set up Drake’s crib like a man who’d done it a hundred times, not once.
Like a father.
I pressed a kiss to my son’s head. Drake let out a squeak as I laid him in his bed. Then I held my breath, both Knox and I hovering over the crib’s rail. “Is this weird?”