Page 93 of A Smile Full of Lies
My fingers curled into his shirt. It was tailored perfectly, smooth and expensive, and deliciously warm from the heat his body radiated. I felt the tension coiled in his muscles, the restraint he was fighting to maintain with every controlled breath, every firm touch.
He’d walked me backward until my spine met the edge of the counter. Now, the bowl I’d just set down rattled. My knees weakened and my thighs clenched.
God, he kissed like he fought: with quiet, focused intensity that didn’t leave room for anything but surrender.
His tongue swept past my lips, teasing, claiming, and devouring me. My breath hitched. My body arched. I grabbed his shoulders, desperate to stay upright.
And Knox? Knox kissed me like he didn’t want to stop… like he never wanted this to end.
His hands gripped my hips like he owned them, like he’d always owned them. Like my ‘neighbors with benefits’ idea hadn’t even registered on his mental radar, or maybe it had, and he was kissing me to prove how fucking stupid it was.
And fuck me, it was working.
Because if he touched me like that again, I’d give him anything he wanted, anything he asked of me, even if it destroyed me.
The second Knox’s hands slid under my sweatshirt, all the air left my lungs.
He wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t fumbling. He wasexploring…slow and thorough, like he’d been memorizing me from a distance for years and now, finally, he was allowed to confirm it all firsthand.
My back arched, offering more.
His thumbs brushed the underwire of my bra, and I gasped, the sound half swallowed by his kiss. His lips curled against mine, like he liked that sound, like he was going to spend the rest of the night collecting more just like it.
I tugged at the buttons of his shirt, frantic now, desperate to get him out of it. He stopped the kiss, even while he kept me pinned against the bench, and helped me, flicking them open one by one, like he was giving me a gift he’d been dying to unwrap himself.
When I finally pushed it off his shoulders, I nearly lost my mind.
It didn’t matter that I’d seen it before, somehow, right now, it hit me harder than ever. Knox was carved and lethal beneath the tailored fabric. He had a broad chest and defined abs. He was made up of sharp lines that made me want to taste every inch of him. His skin was warm and smooth, glowing golden under the low kitchen light.
And he just stood there, watching me drink him in.
“You done looking?” he asked, voice low and rough.
“No,” I breathed. “Not even close.”
The corner of his mouth lifted.
“Good.”
Then he dropped to his knees. I choked on air. My pulse throbbed while my brain short-circuited.
Philip fucking Knox —myKnox— was on his knees in front of me, and I wasn’t ready for what came next.
Knox hooked his fingers in the waistband of my shorts, dragging them down slow — like he wanted to savor every fucking second. His eyes never left mine, not even while he knelt between my legs and helped me step out of them, his palms hot against my calves, my ankles, my thighs.
The air hit my soaked panties and I flushed, but he didn’t tease. Didn’t smirk, or joke, or even blink. He just lookedhungry.
“Ros,” he said, like a prayer… or maybe a warning. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”
“Then show me,” I whispered.
A sound ripped from his throat, half-growl, half-moan. His fingers curled under the band of my panties and peeled them down with reverence, dropping them to the kitchen floor like they didn’t deserve to exist between us.
Then his hands were on my thighs — firm and commanding — as he nudged them apart and leaned in.
The first brush of his mouth against me shattered something. My hips jerked. My head dropped back. And then his tongue —fuck, his tongue — licked a long, deliberate path up my slit, and I forgot my own name.
“Jesus,” I gasped.
