Page 40 of Down Knot Out
I continue, determined to explain its full meaning before my courage fails. “I know things become hard sometimes, and you struggle with feeling alone. But I wanted you to have a reminder that you’re not. That we’re all here for you. That we’re connected, even when we’re apart.”
A tear splashes onto the velvet, followed by another, and Chloe’s shoulders shake.
“Hey.” Concern fills me at her reaction. “If you’d prefer not to wear?—”
“I love it.” The words come out with a watery hiccup. “I love it so much. It’s perfect.”
Relief floods through me, followed by a wave of tenderness so powerful it nearly knocks me back. I gather her into my arms, her tears dampening my shirt.
“Shh.” I run my hand down her back in slow circles. “No more tears.”
She wipes her face on my shirt. “Happy tears.”
I chuckle, kissing the top of her head. “Still, tears. And they’re getting my shirt all wet.”
She pulls back, swatting at my arm. “You’re ruining the moment.”
“Let me fix that, then.” I take the box from her hand. “May I?”
“Yes.” Chloe turns, presenting her back to me and lifting her pink hair away from her neck.
The vulnerability of the gesture strikes me, the trust implicit in exposing her nape, the delicate line of her spine visible above her collar. I drape the chain around her throat, my fingers brushing her skin as I work the clasp, and goose bumps rise beneath my touch.
My throat tightens as I smooth it into place. “There.”
She turns back to face me, hand rising to touch the clover where it rests in the dip of her collarbone. “How does it look?”
“Perfect.” The necklace comes alive, the gemstones catching the light and reflecting it in tiny prismatic bursts. “It was made for you.”
The bond hums between us, and she leans forward as I do the same. This time, when our lips meet, there’s nothing chaste about it. Her mouth opens under mine, inviting deeper contact, and heat spirals through me as her fingers thread into my hair, tugging me closer.
I lose myself in the kiss, in the taste and texture of her. My hands find her waist, drawing her toward me until she’s almost in my lap. Her nails scrape my scalp, and I groan, the sound swallowed by our kiss.
A sharp knock at the door shatters the moment.
I pull back just enough to rest my foreheadagainst hers, breathing heavily. “I hate delivery in this building.”
She laughs, the sound puffing over my lips. “It’s saving you from getting worked up.”
“I swear I’m not worked up. Let me prove it.”
“Behaving, remember?” She kisses the corner of my mouth before extracting herself from my arms.
“We’re using that app for breakfast tomorrow,” I growl as I follow her off the couch as she smooths her clothes and hair back into place. “No more interruptions for tips.”
“Go get the plates ready. I’ll be right back.” She heads for the door, fingers touching the necklace at her throat.
The sight of her wearing my gift sends a surge of possessive pleasure through me. I head toward the kitchen with a lightness in my step that was missing before. The evening has unfolded in ways I never expected, ways I’d hardly dared hope for.
I retrieve the plates from the drying rack where I left them earlier, imagining the rest of our night together, sharing dinner, another movie, and more kisses. Maybe even falling asleep with her in my arms, without a pillow barrier between us this time.
The sound of a yelp from the living roomfreezes me mid-motion, followed by a thud as something heavy hits the floor.
Alarm slices through me, and the plates slip from my suddenly numb fingers, clattering onto the counter. “Chloe?”
No response.
I rush back to the living room, my heart thundering. The front door stands open, cool evening air flowing into the apartment. On the floor lies a paper bag, containers of food spilling onto the carpet.
