Page 7 of Knight's Last Chance

“It’s none of his business. Just like it’s none of yours,” I snap. You rejected me, remember?

He winces at my words, and I know it’s not fair. Knight was nice to me when I showed up here two years ago. He treated me like his little sister even when I didn’t want him to. He gave me my first ever present when I turned eighteen. I mentioned in passing that I loved photography but never had the chance—or the camera—to explore it, and a few weeks later, he surprised me with a brand-new camera. One that cost thousands of dollars too. Before him, no one had ever gifted me something expensive, and that he’d remembered cemented my feelings for him.

I admit that kissing Knight that evening or professing my undying love to the man while he stood stunned wasn’t the brightest idea, but a naive part of me had expected him to sweep me into his arms and tell me he felt the same way.

Instead, he’d turned me down with a smile. The asshole. His voice had been soft and gentle as he’d reminded me that I’d just turned eighteen and I still had a lot of living to do. That I needed to go off to college, meet people, go on friendly dates, and other things I have since blocked from my mind.

So yeah, it’s not fair for me to rage at him when he wants to know what I have been doing this past year, but I can’t help myself. Being this close to him and smelling his woodsy aftershave and the leather of the vest on him reminds me that I will never have this man. Some lucky girl will have the pleasure of running their hands through his midnight black hair and feeling his firm lips on them.

Someone who is not me.

“Rhea,” Knight whispers, his voice much softer than before. “I’m sorry I hurt you, sweetheart.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” I say stubbornly, but I can’t meet his eyes.

A tremor runs down my spine when he brushes my hair behind my ear, the back of his rough hands skimming my face. I fight back the need to lean into his caress like a touch-starved puppy, but dammit, I am touched-starved, and I only want Knight's hands on me.

Will only ever want him.

“I don’t want to ruin your trip.” Knight grabs my chin and tugs gently, forcing me to meet his stormy gray eyes. “I don’t want you to disappear for another year. What can I do to make you forgive me?”

Love me. Kiss me. My desperation is endless, but I say nothing, unwilling to risk opening my mouth and blurting something that will make things even more awkward between us.

I’ve learned the hard way that I can’t always voice the words of my heart, but Knight is unwilling to take my silence for an answer so he inches closer to me, forcing me to back up.

“Knight,” I gasp when my back hits a rough surface, and it takes me a second to realize it is a tree. This is not an ideal position to be in when I am trying to get over the man, but I cannot make myself move a muscle.

“I want to make it up to you, sweetheart,” he says deeply, propping a hand over my head and caging me to the tree. We’re nearly in the open, but none of that seems to matter with Knight so close to me. My stomach is filled with butterflies, my heart racing so fast, it threatens to pump its way out of my chest, and I am weak . . . this man does that to me.

“K-Knight,” I whisper again, softly and slightly panicked, trying to find the words I need to stop this—whatever the hell is happening—but the second my eyes lock with his, I lose the ability to speak.

He’s perfect, this man.

Long midnight black hair held back in a man bun, and eyes are so dark, they remind me of the ocean on a cold night. They’re beautiful, and just like I did a year ago, I lose myself in them again.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he breathes before his eyes drop to my lips. “I bet I can make you feel better than your little boyfriend. I can take better care of you, Rhea.” My lips part in a gasp when I feel his right hand climb my thigh, dragging my little black dress along with it. I clench my fists by my side as his calloused palm slides up my skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. I have to bite my lips to stop a moan that threatens to slip out.

Control yourself, Rhea!

“Knight . . . I . . .” I whimper when he runs his middle finger over my sex, sending a rush of wetness spreading between my legs. A harsh grunt leaves his mouth when he finds my panties sodden, but of course they are. They have been since I saw him standing in his living room in only a towel, and for him to know how I’m feeling has my cheeks flashing with heat. I try to press my thighs together to hide, but the cruel man stops me.

A shudder shakes my body when he leans in and presses his lips to my cheek, kissing a path to my ear. “Let me show you, baby,” he rasps against my skin. “I can give you pleasure unlike anything you’d ever get from anyone else. I want to make it up to you. Let me give you a better memory of me.”

Oh, I am going to be recalling this moment when I am old and surrounded by a hundred cats because that’s how it’s going to end for me. There is no way I am ever going to let another man touch me after this moment, and . . . I should nip it in the bud.

I shouldn’t let Knight ruin me for any other man, and yet, I find myself leaning into his touch when he kisses the shell of my ear.

“We shouldn’t,” I moan, tilting my head back for him when he trails his lips down my neck. Knight responds by pushing closer against me, pinning my body to the tree before pushing his hardness against my thigh.

“Feel how hard I am for you, baby? You have no fucking idea how many times I have thought of touching you . . . kissing you . . . fucking you in every corner of my house and outside it. I bet Edward will never make you feel as good as I can.”

I suck in a shaky breath at his words, but he doesn’t allow me a moment to think as he slides his thick digits under the waistband of my panties and tugs them down my thighs a second before he tears them completely off.

“Knight!” I cry out, but quickly slam my palm on my mouth when I realize we’re still outside and in the open. Sure, there are a few trees around us, but it’s not sufficient cover. Knight, however, doesn’t seem too worried about the noises he’s drawing out of me. He shoves my torn panties into his jeans pocket before his fingers are back between my legs. His hard eyes are on mine when he runs his middle finger over my sex, parting my folds. There is no prepping me for the pleasure that shoots up my spine when his thick digit grazes my sensitive nub. My hand drops from my mouth to grab his arm as a pulsing heat grows in my sex.

Oh!

Oh, God!

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