Page 32 of A Smile Full of Lies (Secrets of Stonewood #1)

Chapter

Twenty-Two

ROS

The second Knox’s mouth claimed mine, the rest of the world fell away. There was no hesitation, no soft glide, no tentative exploration, only heat and hunger and possession.

His hand slid into my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss. I gasped into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound greedily, like he’d been starving for the taste of me.

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 was exploring… 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 — my Knox — 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 looked hungry .

“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.

“No,” he murmured darkly against my pussy. “Just Knox.”

Then he buried his face between my legs and ate . No hesitation. No mercy. Just Knox dragging me under, tongue circling my clit, sucking me soft, then hard, then harder . He devoured me like he was starving. Like he needed to taste every moan, every tremble.

I fisted the counter behind me, my legs already shaking. I wasn’t going to last much longer, and from the way he growled against me, I didn’t think he wanted me to.

Knox had my thighs shaking, my hips twitching, my nails clawing for purchase on the countertop behind me. My breath came in shattered gasps, every nerve ending on fire. He licked me like he was savoring something sacred, like my pleasure was the only thing that mattered.

Like he meant to make me lose control.

One hand gripped my thigh, keeping me wide open for him. The other slid under my ass, angling me just right so he could suck my clit with precision so filthy I thought I might cry. His tongue circled, then flicked, then pressed hard… relentless, focused, fucking obsessed .

“Fuck, Knox,” I choked out. “I.. fuck… I can’t?—”

“You can,” he growled, breath hot against my throbbing cunt. “You’re going to come. Right now. On my tongue.”

My head snapped back, a strangled cry ripping from my throat.

“God—”

“No.” He tightened his grip on my ass. “ Say it. ”

“Knox.”

“Again.”

“Knox, please — fuck — I’m gonna?—”

He latched onto my clit and sucked , just once, hard and deep — and I fucking shattered .

Pleasure detonated in my spine, molten and violent, radiating through every muscle in my body. I screamed his name as my thighs clamped around his head and my body arched off the counter, coming so hard I could barely breathe.

He held me through it, mouth never leaving me, licking me through every last quake, and when I collapsed against the cabinets, boneless and dazed, he stood — slow and sure — blue eyes dark, jaw tight, breath ragged.

“Your turn,” I whispered, my voice wrecked.

And the look he gave me?

Devastation.

Without warning, Knox scooped me into his arms like I was weightless, like he’d always meant to carry me to his bed. My breath caught as my arms locked around his neck, the heat of his bare chest searing against me.

He carried me through the house like a man on a mission, every muscle in his arms flexing with quiet, effortless strength. I could still feel the ghost of his mouth on me — still tasted the aftershocks of the orgasm he’d dragged out of me like it belonged to him.

Because it did.

His bedroom was massive, dark, and cool. And when he laid me on his bed, every inch of me clenched. The mattress dipped beneath me. His silhouette loomed over mine as he stood there in the soft lamplight.

I reached for his belt.

“Not yet,” he growled, voice low and wrecked. “I need you on top of me when I give it to you.”

The words made me shiver. But I kept going.

I sat up, hands bracing on his chest, then my fingers unbuckled the belt.

He’d already stripped off his shirt earlier, and now the suit pants were the only barrier left between us.

I undid the button and dragged the zipper down slowly, teasing him.

The outline of his cock pressed thick and hot against the fabric of his boxer briefs .

I freed him, shoving his pants and boxer briefs down with both hands, and he hissed between his teeth, already leaking precum, already so ready.

“Jesus, Ros…”

His cock slapped up against his stomach — thick, hard, perfect. My mouth watered, but I didn’t stop to taste him. Not yet.

Slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, he sank down onto the bed beside me, and kicked his pants and boxers completely off.

I climbed into his lap, straddling his hips, my thighs spread wide as I positioned him beneath me.

My slick heat dragged across the length of him, coating him.

His hands gripped my hips — tight enough to bruise — as I rocked against him, dragging the tip of his cock through my folds, teasing us both.

“Ros…” His voice cracked. “Don’t — fuck — don’t tease me.”

“I’m in control now,” I whispered.

And I was. I lined him up, tilted my hips, and sank down slowly. His cock filled me — stretched me — so thick and deep I could barely breathe.

His head dropped back, a broken growl tearing from his throat.

“Ride me,” he gritted. “Ride me like you fucking mean it.”

And oh, I meant it.

I rose slowly, then slid down onto him again, deeper. Knox’s cock stretched me so wide it bordered on obscene. I could feel every vein, every inch, as I sank down until my thighs pressed against his skin, hard.

He was so fucking deep.

My hands braced against his chest. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise. His head dropped back against the pillows, lips parted, blue eyes locked on where we were joined like he couldn’t fucking believe it was real.

“Ros — fuck — baby…”

His voice was a raw, broken thing. It went straight to my cunt. I rolled my hips once, a slow, testing grind.

Knox’s whole body jerked. A sharp curse cracked from his throat as he thrust up involuntarily, punching another inch inside me.

I gasped. My fingers curled against his chest.

“You okay?” he rasped.

“ More. ”

His hands tightened, his jaw clenched, and I rode him — slow and deliberate — grinding down on every thick inch of him, letting him feel how fucking wet he made me. How tight I was around him. How much I needed this. Needed him.

The muscles in his chest flexed beneath my hands. His stomach tightened as I picked up the pace, bouncing on his cock like I wanted to wreck him. And I did.

“Look at you,” he growled. “So fucking desperate for it. I can feel how close you are to coming again, baby. So close, just from riding me.”

“Don’t stop talking,” I gasped. “I want to hear you when I come.”

His mouth curled into a wicked smile.

“Oh, I’ll do more than talk, sweetheart.”

Then he sat up.

One arm banded around my back. The other fisted in my hair. And he fucked up into me so hard and deep that I screamed his name.

“Oh my god, Knox! Fuck?—”

“Come on my cock,” he growled. “I want to feel it.”

And fuck if I didn’t unravel on the spot, a wordless scream ripping out of my throat.

Knox didn’t let go of me right away.

Even after I came apart in his arms — clenching around his cock like it was the only thing holding me together, gasping his name so loud the walls probably shook, he just held me there.

One arm still tight around my waist. One hand buried in my hair.

His forehead pressed against mine, his breathing ragged.

He was still inside me. Still thick and hard and so fucking deep I swore I could feel him in my throat.

“Fuck,” he whispered, like it was the only word he had left.

I couldn’t move. Didn’t want to.

The air between us pulsed with heat and something else I couldn’t name — something tender and aching and terrifying.

Because this wasn’t supposed to feel like that.

This was supposed to be casual. Just neighbors blowing off steam. That’s what I’d said. That’s what I’d offered.

But the way he touched me now? Slow. Reverent. Gentle in a way that made my chest ache? That wasn’t casual.

He eased me back down onto the mattress like I was something breakable, still inside me, still impossibly hard. His thumb swept over my cheek like he couldn’t stop touching me. His other hand slipped from my waist to cradle the back of my neck, anchoring me to him.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low and rough.

I nodded. Swallowed hard.

“Yeah.”

But my chest ached with something I didn’t know how to name.

He pressed his lips to my temple, a whisper of a kiss, and I felt it in my soul like a brand.

This man had never just been my neighbor, and I was starting to realize I’d never stood a chance.

Knox pulled out slowly, like he couldn’t quite make himself do it, like it physically hurt him to let me go.

I felt the stretch of it, the ache of it, the loss of it.

His cock slipped free, leaving behind a sensation that made my breath hitch and my thighs twitch from the aftershocks still rolling through me.

He didn’t move far. Just shifted onto his side and pulled me against him, my back to his chest, like he couldn’t stand the distance either.

His arm slid beneath my head. His other curled around my stomach. He nuzzled into my hair, all that controlled tension gone now, replaced with something softer — something that scared the ever-loving shit out of me.

“You still breathing?” he murmured, lips brushing the curve of my shoulder.

Barely.

I swallowed hard.

“Yeah.”

We lay there for a moment, the room still thick with heat and the smell of sex and skin. My breath started to even out. My heartbeat didn’t.

Because I’d given him my body. Offered it on a silver fucking platter. But what he’d taken without asking — without trying — was more. He hadn’t just made me come. He’d made me feel wanted . Worshipped.

And that was a problem.

Because casual didn’t look at someone like that. Didn’t hold them like a goddamn treasure in the dark. And the longer we lay there, the heavier the silence felt, until I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“I meant what I said earlier,” I whispered.

Knox went still.

“About the whole neighbors-with-benefits thing,” I added quickly. “If that’s something you want.”

He didn’t answer right away.

Then, he spoke very quietly, “Ros.”

“Yeah?”

His voice was rough. Tired. Too soft.

“This doesn’t feel like benefits.”

My breath caught, and I couldn’t speak for the life of me.

“This feels like something I’d fucking kill to keep,” he said, barely louder than a breath.

My heart stuttered.

He pressed a kiss to the back of my neck, and for a long time, neither of us said anything else. But that one sentence changed everything, and I didn’t know how to come back from it.