Page 54 of No Knight (My Kind of Hero #3)

Matt

I straighten the collar of my shirt in the mirror, my expression tense. I’ve been home for an hour, and Ryan is nowhere to be seen. I knocked on her door, but there was no answer. I know she’s in there—I heard her shower going. Which, if I’m honest, feels like a cheap excuse not to deal with this.

Long story short? I’m getting the silent treatment because of a little teasing. Or pushing. But fuck it, I really wanted her to be there tonight. By my side. I fucking hate being the fifth wheel.

It’s great that my friends are all loved up, but I could do without having my face rubbed in their happiness when I feel like I’m getting nowhere with Ryan. It’s time. Time for her to get off the fence. To take a fucking risk—on me.

I pull on the drawer and pick up my Cartier cuff links, then drop them immediately in favor of the Graff knots. Love knots, supposedly. They could be a lucky talisman. They were once before. I got so lucky that night.

It’s not like I’ve been putting pressure on her to meet my friends—I love living in our bubble for two. I just wish there was more of that. More days. More nights. More intimacy that isn’t swept under the rug the next morning.

I just want this so badly—I want her more than anything—and I’ll be damned if I become the one before the man she eventually falls for.

Enough, I think, stabbing the cuff link through the hole in my double cuff, flicking the foot of it open.

My shoulders feel tight as I repeat the action, then whack on my jacket and jab my hand through my hair.

I grab my wallet and phone, and after taking one more look at my resolute expression, I leave my room and thunder down the stairs.

As I reach the hallway, I notice the door to the formal lounge is open as muted light spills across the floor.

What the ... The only people regularly in that room are the cleaners. It still looks like it did the day the interior designer fluffed her last throw pillow before handing me an eye-watering bill.

“Ryan?” I call out stridently, the soles of my shoes loud against the tiles. I’m still fucked off. Annoyed. With myself, with her. I’m done with this bullshit.

“In here.”

I press the flat of my hand to the door.

“We need to talk,” I begin, my words spilling hard yet honestly before the door is fully open.

“I take your rent. I give you your space. I eat my fucking dinner alone like some feudal lord, but for the love of God, Ryan, it’s time to meet me half .

..” My words draw off, the rest echoing in my head: halfway and just come to dinner with me.

“I changed my mind.” Her voice is small and her words tentative as she stands on the far side of the room, framed by the art deco cocktail cabinet of burl wood. “I hope that’s okay.”

Dazed, I open my mouth, but the words aren’t immediately available. I shake my head, rattling the jammed cogs of my brain. “Yeah, of course.” And so much for righting my brain’s workings, as my gaze slides over her like that of an old letch. Only, she doesn’t seem to take offense.

“You might want to cover Flip’s ears.”

Her mouth curls, her answer amused. “Because?”

“Because fuck me, you look beautiful.”

Her dress is a deep forest green, a shade so dark it’s almost black.

Perilously thin straps hold at her shoulders, the neckline kind of swagging over her chest. A bit like the ribbon on her cardigan that tormented me, all allure and suggestion.

The fabric is silky looking, and it clings to all those curves like water, accentuating our compact little bump. And her magnificent tits.

She’s a modern-day Aphrodite, the goddess of fertility. Decadent, lush, and sumptuous, and all the superlatives I can think of.

“Stunning,” I kind of stutter, just in case I haven’t made that clear enough.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, leaning back on her elbow. Maybe her back hurts—if I’m lucky. Or maybe it’s more a case that she knows exactly what I’m thinking.

Breasts. Best thing in the world.

Then I remember I have feet, so I move them, crossing the room in long strides as she watches. Her gaze, it feels good. The way she’s looking at me makes me want to curl myself around her.

“So it’s okay? I can come?”

I nod because I don’t dare open my mouth, the words on my tongue not fit for this moment. Yes, you can. Multiple times, if I have anything to do with it. On my fingers and tongue and all over my Gaston-like chin. And my cock. So many times on my cock, please. Let’s make up for lost time, darlin’.

“What made you change your mind?” Before I know what I’m doing, I reach out and touch a lock of her dark, silky hair. I’m not sure that was the original plan, as in my mind’s eye, I slide that thin strap from her shoulder and press my lips there. Oops. Let’s stay in instead.

As her chest expands with a deep inhale, I remember I asked her a question. What was it again?

“I guess it’s just time.”

Right. Yes. Agreed. It’s time for things to change.

Dave, our driver for tonight, texts me when he arrives. In one of the company Bentley SUVs.

“Car’s here,” I say, sliding my phone away.

I’m not one to use a driver usually. That’s more Oliver’s, and sometimes Fin’s, style.

They like to be ferried about and profess to work as the driver drives.

Me, I consider driving my thinking time.

Tonight, I won’t be driving, but I’ll be thinking plenty.

I’ll be trying to work out the reason she’s by my side tonight.

Because it’s surely something less vague than it just being time she met my friends.

Time. I worry it’s been working against us.

I’ve been desperate to fix things between us and concerned that, if I don’t fix them before the baby arrives—if I don’t get Ryan to see what she means to me, and how good we could be—I’ll blow my chance at happiness.

Because when he’s here, our babe, the variables will change.

It’ll be a whole new wonderful and frightening game where he’ll be our focus, as it should be.

I can’t wait to see love shining from her as she holds our babe in her arms. But children change a person, they shift priorities.

Realities. They bring love, yeah, but they also expose you to new fears.

They take up so much time and space in your house and your car and your brain.

And I just want to see a flicker of that love in her eyes for me.

Before the whirlwind arrives and we get lost in it.

In my heart and in my soul, I need this.

I long to spend my life complaining about her being a bed hog, and teasing that she steals all the blankets during her crocodilian death rolls.

I want to see her lift her eyes from her screen at the end of the day, all shy smiles as she realizes I’ve been watching her.

I want our clothes hanging in the same closet, her lotions and potions littering the bathroom vanity.

I want to complain about the shoes she leaves everywhere and have the right to tease her eternally for owning a million hair ties while never being able to find a single one.

Love fills my heart—it pumps through my veins and is embedded in my tissues. In muscle, in sinew, in bone. I want our baby. I want our life together. I want her love.

She already has mine.

“I’ll get my coat.” Ryan makes to move before pausing. She glances down to where my fingers have looped her wrist.

I want to tell her. Say the words, I love you, Ryan. Do you think you could love me? “You’ve got a bit of ...”

She inhales a tiny, shaking breath as my hand rises, as I press my finger to her bared collarbone. She’s all dark eyes and fluttering lashes as I draw it across that delicate wing.

“Something sparkly, see?” I pull that finger away, holding it up for her to examine. Maybe because I’m a chickenshit. Or maybe that wasn’t the point—maybe it was a test administered without my full consciousness. The proof in her shaking breaths that something has turned.

Where the hell are they taking us?

Dave drops us off at the address Fin supplied, along with the advice that Evie had planned the night.

Fin, as our company cruise director, has been just about everywhere that’s fun.

It’s literally his job to know all the hot spots, the places to entertain billionaires from every nation.

Cruise director, director of client relations. Same same.

In other words, feck knows what we’re in for if he’s not in charge.

“Through here, apparently.” I push open an ancient-looking gate that leads to a courtyard of ancient cobblestone.

“It’s kind of atmospheric,” Ryan murmurs, her eyes shining in the moonlight.

“If by atmospheric you mean as spooky as shit, yeah.”

“Oh!”

“Careful.” I catch her as she wobbles, heels and cobblestones not being the best combination. “Can I?” I don’t really wait as I settle my arm around her back. My heart stills, lifting in its cavity as she slides me a soft smile and leans into me.

In that instant, I see us forty years from now. My arms still around her for practicality. For safety. For love. And always because of her tempting curves.

“Was that your stomach?” she asks, half laughing.

“It was singing to you.” Her expression is so feckin’ cute. “And I’m starvin’.”

“You’re always hungry.”

Hungry for you. “Yeah, but right now, I’m so hungry I’d eat the arse off a low-flying seagull.”

A door opens as we approach, and music pours out. Soft jazz and a song about love and dancing cheek to cheek.

As we enter, I can’t help but smile. “I can see Evie booked this.”

“That’s Oliver’s wife, right?”

“Yeah.” Don’t look so nervous, darlin’. They’re gonna love you because I do. “She’s a vet,” I say. “Animal mad. That’s probably how she ended up with him, come to think of it.”

“Because he’s an animal?” Her expression turns doubtful.

“As wily as a wolf. You’ll like him.”

“And Fin? What’s he like.”