Page 69 of A Smile Full of Lies
I hesitated at the top step.
It was just Knox. Steady, infuriatingly hot, impossibly protective Knox.
The same man who’d bought me groceries. The guy who let me stay with him, who made me peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwiches.
The same man I’d just spent the entire night trying not tothinkabout while being hunted by someone else.
My hand shook slightly as I reached for the doorknob.
It was unlocked. Of course it was.
I stepped inside.
The second I stepped across the threshold, I smelled him.
Cedar wood, citrus, leather.
My breath hitched.
The house was warm, dimly lit — the soft glow of recessed lighting spilling across the hardwood floor. I moved slowly, quietly, like maybe if I didn’t make a sound, I could get to the guest room without having to?—
He looked up from where he’d been staring at his laptop at the kitchen island.
My heartstopped.
Knox was leaning against the island, shirtless. A glass of water sat next to his elbow, condensation slipping down the side. His golden hair was messy, like he’d been dragging his fingers through it. His broad chest and defined abs gleamed faintly in the soft light, and thosegoddamngray sweatpants rode low on his hips, like gravity couldn’t resist him either.
He raised one eyebrow, slow and casual, like he hadn’t just sucker punched me with his whole existence.
“Hey, birthday girl,” he said. “Did you have fun?”
My throat closed. My brain screamed at me to say something normal.
“Y-yeah,” I croaked.
He smiled a little, like he heard every stutter in my bones.
“Good,” he said, tapping something on the trackpad. “You were out late. I figured it went well.”
I nodded, barely breathing. My hands were shaking. I shoved them into my hoodie pockets.
His gaze flicked over me, quick and assessing.
“You okay?” he asked.
No.
“Yes,” I lied.
He looked back at the screen, like nothing was wrong.
Like I hadn’t just come in his childhood home for a masked stranger, while secretly wishing it was Knox taking me apart instead.
He pushed off the counter and crossed the kitchen, moving with that slow, unbothered confidence that always made me feel like the ground beneath me wasn’t as steady as I thought.
“You want some water?” he asked, already reaching for a clean glass from the cabinet.
My voice caught.
