Page 26 of Trash Talk

Chapter 15

Ruby- 29 years old

So, last week I went out with my girls for my birthday and went home with Knox. Well, he drove me home. Wouldn’t let me Uber it. He said that he’d promised Poppy to get me home safely and it’s exactly what he did. We’ve spent so many years purposely avoiding each other or trading barbs in public situations, it was odd to be so close to him in an intimate setting. I didn’t know how to act or what to say when he was being nice to me, so I said nothing at all. Neither of us spoke the entire drive to my cottage and the quiet ride did nothing to calm my nerves. The energy radiating between us was palpable. I’ve never been so aware of another person.

The warmth coming out of his vents was nothing compared to heat coming off the man in the seat next to me. I’d had a few drinks, but I was more tired than drunk at that point. I allowed my sleepy gaze to rake over him. The same long dark hair I remember; several strands had broken free of the haphazard bun, framing his handsome face perfectly, begging me to tuck them behind his ears to uncover his eyes. Almost black eyes that still have the power to make me weak in the knees. Tanned skin covered in ink stretched over taught muscles, a beard I want to drag my fingers through. Feel its roughness against my skin. My mind starts racing with ideas as I breathe in his familiar scent, and my panties flood with warmth. Heart rate up, skin flushed.

My physical reaction to him has always been intense, it’s why I avoid him. When he makes it impossible to evade him, I’m borderline rude or patronizing. I’ve been waging war with this man for so long, it’s hard to remember why I started. Especially hard to tone down my natural response, which is either to deploy every defense mechanism I own or climb him like a tree. I’m confused as all hell right now; his pleasantness is throwing me. Making me remember a time when we weren’t enemies. When we were friends. More than friends. Skatá. I shouldn’t go down that emotional rabbit hole right now, but the memory of that kiss is on repeat.

Knox had his face smashed against mine a mere thirteen days ago, wouldn’t let me pay for my bar tab that night (or last week on my birthday), he even let me hustle a few older guys at the pool tables without threatening to kick me out. Whatever was going on was new. He’d driven me home and waited in the truck until I made it inside. I heard the gravel crunch under his tires as I leaned against my front door. I’d gone to bed confused and have remained in the same state since.

My heart doesn’t think it’s wise to give him another chance, and my brain tells me he can’t be trusted. But my body wants him. Is it odd to feel loathing and longing at the same time for a man? Perhaps, but I’m feeling it. Maybe Em’s right and we could work out some kind of arrangement. God knows I could use some sex in my life right now. I’ve never been more frustrated. Even when Barry and I were having sex, it was rare that he delivered the goods (and by goods, I mean orgasms). And I know Knox is more than capable of giving me the goods. Incredibly good goods. I’ve made the mistake before of thinking we could have sex without getting feelings involved. But that was different. He was my friend then; I already liked him. It didn’t take long for lines to get blurry. I hate him now, so chances are, we could have some really hot, angry, rough sex for a few weeks, and my heart wouldn’t be tethering any strings to Knox’s.

I just keep repeating everything Em and I talked about yesterday. She kind of talked me into this… it didn’t take a lot of convincing to be honest. She knows I need a release and Knox is a quick fix. If I just put a time limit on it and shut myself down emotionally, neither of us are in danger of catching feelings. There won’t be any flowery words between us, and we’ll both know there’s an end date. Incentive to make the most out of every minute we have. Then we can look back at our time together fondly and move on with our lives. Perhaps being more cordial than we are now. I can do that, right?

I must think I can; it’s why I’m here tonight. At Depot. By myself. Having a beer (okay, so I’ve had two), to get my courage up, and get him alone in his office. Make him an offer he can’t refuse. I’m almost finished with the bottle when I see him walk in. He doesn’t look anywhere but straight ahead as he beelines it for his office in the back. Something’s clearly on his mind. Maybe tonight isn’t the best night to talk to him.

“Bwok! Bwok!” My almost empty beer taunts me. God, I hate that I’m so competitive. Once I get an idea— in this case, a wild hair, I’m forced to take action. It helps that the majority of my plans rock. Plus, I can’t let that bottle mock me like that. I’m off my stool and knocking on the office door before I can chicken out again. Knox opens the door, and quickly covers the shock on his face with a charming smile. I’m probably the last person he was expecting to see.

“Um, can I talk to you for a second?” He opens the door further and does a sweeping gesture with his arm. I sit in the weathered leather chair in front of his desk.

“This verbal beating won’t take long, will it? Not that I don’t enjoy sparring with you. There’s just somewhere I have to be.” Great, he’s expecting me to roast him; after all this time, I suppose I deserve that reaction. But for some reason, it sends my nerves through the roof. I don’t think I can do this. Jesus, how did I let Em talk me into this? It’s the stupidest idea we’ve ever had. I’d rather injure my pride myself by wussing out than have him reject me.

“I’ll just go,” I’m standing and turning, but before I can take my first step his hand is on my arm. He guides me back down to my chair and instead of walking behind the desk, he sits in the chair next to mine. His proximity is throwing me off. It’d be so much easier if I could just jump in his lap, start making out with him and send him some suggestive brain waves.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to be short. I just have a meeting with Jake tonight. I’m helpin' him with something, and I don’t have a lot of time.” Why is he meeting with the sheriff? It’s obviously personal, or he would’ve elaborated. He waits a minute before dropping his hand from my arm. I miss its warmth immediately. “Come on Rubes; talk to me. You obviously came back here for a reason. We used to tell each other everything.” I can’t look at him and say this, so I stare hard at the birthmark on my thigh. Visible because I’m wearing a pair of ridiculously short cutoffs. I figured showing off my assets might help speed things along. I may be short, and I may not have big boobs, but my legs and booty are killer.

“That was before. Things are different now. Although,” I sigh, “I still can’t seem to turn my body off when it comes to you.” I expect to see a smirk when I look up at him, but it would appear I’ve shocked him again. “I don’t trust you Knox. I don’t even like you.” I swallow hard, and force myself to meet his eyes, “but I want you.” I don’t know what I was expecting, but him pushing himself up out of the chair and silently pacing wasn’t it.

I hate awkward silences, so I fill the void with babble. “You know, maybe we could come to some kind of arrangement. I know I’m not your favorite person either. We’ve hurt each other, and I’m not suggesting we jump into some kind of relationship. The opposite actually. We have ridiculous chemistry. And I remember things being, um, pretty good.” They were better than pretty good; Knox is the best I’ve ever had. But there’s no way I’m telling him that. Hello, I have some pride. His already gigantic head would explode. Has it really come to this? Am I this freaking desperate to get laid? Surely there’s a less complicated way to a cock-induced orgasm.

God, why did I let Em talk me into this? She made me believe this was a great idea. She took me to breakfast yesterday and filled my head with all kinds of ideas. I didn’t tell her I was coming tonight to act on said ideas. Now I wish I’d dragged her or Poppy along, so they could’ve talked some sense into me. I wish someone were here to shovel my words back in my mouth. I wish he would say something. I just put myself out there. Way out there. I was banking on him not dating anyone right now and wanting me after all this time. If I’m wrong about either, I’ll die of embarrassment.

I turn to him; he’s still pacing. “Knox, say something.” He doesn’t show any signs that he’s heard me. My anxiety is eating me alive, and my self-confidence, which is currently circling the toilet bowl, won’t allow me to stay seated. I take it he needs some time, or he’s not interested. Either way, he doesn’t need me here anymore.

This was such a huge mistake. I won’t be able to show my face here for weeks. I’m just gonna slip out, go home and take a bath and tomorrow pretend like this never happened. But as I reach for the knob, his palms slam against the door, preventing my escape. His arms brush the tops of my shoulders and I feel his chest press against my back. His breath touches the shell of my ear, making me shiver, before asking, “what kind of arrangement?”

One of his hands leaves the door to grip my hip, turning me around to face him. He leans down and presses his forehead to mine and runs his hand from my hip to my ribcage, skimming the side of my breast before wrapping it around my neck. His thumb traces across my jaw and under my chin to tilt my face. His touch sets my skin on fire. He pulls back and looks into my eyes. “What are you asking me for, Shorty?”

His face is inches from mine, his hot breath caressing my lips, his eyes intense dark pools. My breathing’s erratic, heart pounding, panties soaked. That’s what he does to me. When I let myself relax, let him in. He destroys me. If I let him, he’ll do it again. I need to have control this time. I can do this. I can give him my body without letting him in my heart. I want him.

“Four weeks. No strings. No dates. Just sex. Exclusive sex.”

“Six weeks. Some dates. Exclusive sex.”

“Five.”

“Six, or there’s no deal.” Damn, he’s sexy when he negotiates. I’m pretty sure I can handle a month and a half of no strings, best sex of my life with my nemesis. With a man that knows exactly how to touch my body to make it sing; just the thought of finally having an orgasm that isn’t self-induced has me on the verge of erupting. I’ll deal with any consequences later. I need him. Now.

“Fuck me, Knox.”

His lips crash into mine and devour me. My hands go under his shirt. We separate for a second to whip each other’s tops off at the same time, but then we’re attacking again. Our hands and mouths exploring heated skin.

“Fuck, Ruby. You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.” Shut up, Knox. I should’ve added a no talking clause. I can negotiate further terms later. This isn’t about getting back together. It’s about hooking up. Eye on the prize, I undo my shorts and pull them and my panties down at the same time. “Shit. You’re beautiful.”

“Enough of the sweet words, Teller. Take your pants off.” He hesitates, so I help him. I quickly undo his belt and pants and shove them to his knees. No underwear. Some things never change. “Do you have protection?”

“Wallet,” he grunts out. I kneel down and reach around to his back pocket, which is now around his knees. Pull out a foil packet, rip it open and slide it over his deliciously large, already hard cock. I stand and remove my bra. We stare at each other for a minute. His body is just as perfect as I remember.

“How do you want it?” My mind is mush. How do I want it? My knees are already jelly; I’ll need something to lean on. I walk over to his desk and swipe my hand across it scattering papers everywhere (I’ve always wanted to do that). I put my palms down on the now clear desk and bend over in front of him. I can’t remember ever being this bold with anyone, but something about the way Knox looks at me, gives me confidence. He wants this as much as I do. I wait for what seems like forever. I look over my shoulder to see what’s taking so long; Knox is just staring at me. Eyes blazing, chest heaving, hand stroking an impressive package that reaches his belly button. God, he’s gorgeous, but I don’t want to stare at him all night; I want him inside me.

This isn’t going to last long. I’ve decided. Hard. Fast. Dirty. That’s how I want it. “You comin’, Teller?”

Then he smirks and flicks the lock on the door. “I will be in a minute. And I won’t be the only one.” Oh, he aint lyin’.

---