Fine Make

The words land right in the center

of my chest, stealing the breath from my lungs: I almost smile. Almost.

God. Why does he have to say it like that? With so much passion and authority. So blunt. So certain. Like it's just a fact and not the thing I've been secrety dying to hear again since the last time he said it while chest tightening, skin buzzing, knees a little weak even though I'm sitting.

I want to throw myself into his arms. I want to blurt it back and tell him, 'Yes, I love you too. I'll stay here forever if you want me to? We'll figure out the closet space

and whose mug is whose and grow old yelling at each other over breakfast. I want to be that girl. Just once.

But that would be my heart talking. And maybe my hormones, because every inch of me wants to be touched by him when he says

stuff like that,

My brain, though? My brain is still working. Barely. It's reminding me that love doesn't mean letting him lock me away because he's scared. That just because he feels this deep need to protect me doesn't mean I should let him bulldoze my choices. Even if part of me aches to let him.

So I breathe. I hold my ground. And I say, "I'm going to stay here for the weekend. I'll even move in, and we'll be roommates with my heartbroken

stepfather. But you're not stopping me from going to work, Knox."

"Oh, I am."

"You're not."

"This is not a joke, Sloane. I'm trying to protect you."

"From what? You're not even sure there's danger, and I'm supposed to just keep my life on hold?"

He moves fast. One hand grabs the side of my chair, dragging it-and me-

closer. The other wraps around the back of my neck, pulling my face to his.

Our eyes meet, and for a second, I forget to be angry. Forget

to argue. Forget the whole reason we're even here.

He leans in so close I feel the warmth of his breath on my lips. "What's the attitude about, lady?" "Attitude?" I manage. "You're the one throwing a tantrum because you saw a ghost from the past."

"The only thing I'll be throwing is you over my lap for a spanking.”

Heat travels from my neck

down south. His fingers are moving, brushing over the tendons in my

neck, and my púlse

flutters against his touch. His eyes darken as they follow the reaction, and I hate that he notices it. Hate that he's always three steps ahead of what my body's about to do.

His hand trails down my neck. I stop breathing entirely.

"Am I always going to have a hard time keeping you safe?" he whispers, voice rough with frustration and that bass that makes my legs press together without meaning to. "Maybe you're the one you should be keeping me safe from."

He smiles, and it's all teeth. "You're not wrong."

Then, without warning, he reaches down and grabs the hem of my skirt. One strong pull and-

Riiip.

The fabric gives way in a single sound, the split shooting straight up

my thigh. I gasp.

"What the fuck, Knox!"

"You're absolutely right, Sloane." His voice is low now, velvet soaked in sin. "I'm the one you need the most saving from. Because I constantly want to ruin you. I want to rip you apart."

***

He lifts me like I weigh nothing, sweeping i off the chair. Our drinks scatter as his hand knocks the bottle and glasses sideways. Amber liquid pools an the dark wood. He doesn't even glance at it. My ass hits the counter hard.

Then he reaches under my ruined skirt and rips my panties the same way. One pull, and they're gone.

My heart jumps straight to my throat

"You can't fuck compliance into me, Knox," I say, trying to sound stronger than I feel. My voice shakes anyway. "That's not how this works."

His belt comes off with a practiced flick. His zinvers

Jesus.

1. wn. And then he reaches into his briefs and frees himself.

Even after all this time, he still makes me ache with a single and I swear I

forget how to sit upright.

look. He's already hard. Already swollen. His hand wraps around the thick length, just once,

"After two weeks away from you," he says, "I just want to fuck myself back into your

head. Getting your compliance afterward will only be a bonus.

He steps closer and drags my hips forward. My thighs slide along the cold surface until I'm perched right at the edge. My legs fall open on instinct, and that's when I feel the head of his cock nudging against me. sŵnovel

"So shut up,” he says, "and take this dick."

He pushes in.

My breath chokes out. He's too much, too intense, too everything. He doesn't wait. Doesn't ease. He fills me in a single, brutal thrust, and my hands scramble for purchase against the countertop, nails scraping against wood.

"Oh, my God," I pant.

His grip tightens on my thighs, anchoring me in place as he pulls

back and slams in again. My back arches, my vision goes blurry, and every single thought about danger or Mateo or T-Bone or promotions evaporates.

All that's left is him. His body. His breath. The way he drives in and out like he owns me.

And maybe he does.noveldrama

Maybe I've always been his.

Knox sets a rhythm, ruthless and

steady, each thrust punching a moan from my throat whether I want it or hot. His eyes stay locked on mine the whole time. Like he's daring me to look away. His hands are like vises on my thighs, holding me open and completely at his mercy.

The counter digs into the back of my legs, but I barely notice. My world narrows down to the point where our bodies meet, where he's splitting me open.

"Knox," I gasp, my fingers curling around the edge of the counter. "Please-"