“Fuck, but that is hot.” He nibbled on my earlobe as the aftershocks rang through my limbs. Then he unwrapped me from his body and laid me on the bed, stripping off my panties and bra.
He popped his finger into his mouth, humming at my taste, then he pushed my legs apart so I was spread wide. “Don’t move.”
I nodded, lifting my hands to my pebbled nipples and giving them a tug.
“Again.” Knox stood at the end of the bed and watched.
I pulled at my nipples, loving the flare in his eyes. “Like this?”
“Again.”
I smiled and kept toying with them as he stepped out of his jeans, his thick arousal bobbing free.
He wrapped his fist around the velvet shaft, stroking it over and over as he watched me play. A bead of come formed at his crown and I licked my lips. “You want your mouth on me, Memphis?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
“Later. Tonight, I’m going to come on your pretty tits.”
My breath hitched again.
“Touch your clit.”
I let go of one breast, dropping it to the hardened nub between my legs. The second I touched myself, my back arched off the bed.
“Don’t close your legs,” Knox ordered.
I kept them wide as he settled between them, kneeling above me.
His hand on his shaft never stopped working as he pumped. The other hand swatted my fingers away from my center. “Touch your nipples.”
I obeyed. Instantly. In the bedroom. In life. Whatever pleasure I brought him, he’d give it back ten times over.
His hand found my clit again, and he matched the rhythm of his strokes on us both, working me up until I could barely breathe.
“That’s it, honey. Come again.”
I detonated, my eyes squeezing shut as the orgasm racked through my body.
Knox groaned and did exactly as promised. He came on my belly and my breasts. I watched as ecstasy washed over his handsome face. As his Adam’s apple bobbed with his release.
As he came undone. For me.
A shiver rolled over his shoulders as he opened his eyes.
Then he gave me a sexy, devilish smirk. “Now you’re a mess.”
His mess.
In that mess, there was passion.
In that passion, we were perfect.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
MEMPHIS
Knuckles had never looked so magical. This restaurant was meant to be full of people, and not a single table sat empty. From the moment I’d stepped through the door, the noise had swallowed me whole. The clink of silverware. The rumble of conversation. The boom of unrestrained laughter.
The scent of spices and herbs lured me deeper into the space. Roasted turkey. Creamy potatoes. Tangy cranberries.
Sage stuffing and sweet cornbread. My stomach growled.
Drake felt the excitement in the air and let out a little squeal, kicking his legs as we slipped past the hostess station.
Some of the people eating their Thanksgiving feast were guests I recognized from the hallways of the hotel. Others were locals, most faces I didn’t know. But someday, like Knox, I hoped to walk through here and know most people by name.
I pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen, expecting chaos. Instead, I was greeted by more laughter as Roxanne, Skip and Knox stood around the gleaming prep table. The teenager who washed dishes was stacking clean plates.
“Am I in the right place?” I asked.
Knox chuckled and came over, lifting Drake from my arms. Then his mouth was on mine, his tongue sweeping across my lips.
I blinked, taken aback by the kiss, but then I lifted my hands to his face to hold on, laughing as he growled and let me go. “Whoa. Now there’s a hello.”
“Hello.” His smile was breathtaking.
Drake latched a hand onto his beard and pulled.
“Hey, boss.” Knox kissed his cheek, then pulled me into his side. “How was the morning?”
“Guessing not as hectic as yours.”
Because daycare was closed for Thanksgiving, I’d spent the morning with Drake. Eloise, best boss in the world, had changed the shifts so I could have today and tomorrow off. I’d be working all weekend, but Knox had volunteered to watch Drake.
I’d spent an hour playing with my son, working on tummy time and rolling over. Then during Drake’s morning nap, I’d cleaned Knox’s house. He’d left just after four to get to the restaurant and prep for the holiday meal.
Knuckles had a single menu today and had been reservation only. Locals who hadn’t wanted to cook and those visiting Quincy had blocked out the day months ago. Every seat had been taken.
“How did everything go?” I asked.