Page 57

Iris

I settled onto the edge of the couch, pulling his hoodie tighter around my shoulders. The fabric was soft and smelled like him—like sweat and something distinctly Knox. My knees tucked up against my chest, and I hugged them, trying to contain the whirlwind of thoughts racing through my mind.

He sat across from me, shirtless, bandaged hands resting on his thighs. His eyes were locked on me, but they weren’t filled with the usual intensity. Instead, there was a softness that sent warmth spiraling through my chest.

We didn’t speak, and somehow that silence felt charged. It hummed between us, rich with unspoken truths and a tentative understanding that something had shifted tonight. I could see it in the way he leaned back slightly, as if he was allowing himself to need me just as much as I needed him.

Rain dripped off my hair onto my cheeks, cool against the warmth radiating from his presence.

I wanted to reach out—to bridge the gap between us—but fear tethered my hands down at my sides.

What if this moment fell apart like everything else?

What if we couldn’t navigate this new territory together?

“Are you okay?” Knox finally broke the silence, his voice low and gravelly.

I nodded, but inside I was churning with uncertainty. How could I be okay when everything felt so precarious?

His gaze never wavered as he studied me closely. “You look… shaken.”

I forced a smile, though it felt fragile on my lips. “Just tired.” But even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t true. It wasn’t just exhaustion weighing me down; it was the realization that everything was about to change.

He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees as he scrutinized me like I held all the answers to questions neither of us had dared to voice yet.

“Listen,” he started slowly, “I know things got messy tonight?—”

“Messy is an understatement,” I interrupted, trying to keep things light despite the gravity of our situation. But it was hollow, even to my ears.

“Did you mean what you said? About… doing what you had to?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, the weight of his words pressing against my chest.

Knox exhaled slowly, as if he was searching for the right words to fill the space between us. “I meant all of it.” His eyes locked onto mine, dark and fierce. “No one touches you. Not like that. Not ever.”

My heart raced, each beat echoing in my ears. The tightness in my chest expanded, a mix of surprise and something warmer that fluttered through me. No one had ever fought for me like this—not even my dad. Not since my mom walked out and shattered everything we built together.

Knox was dangerous, rough around the edges, and completely unpredictable. But at that moment, standing there in his living room with rain-soaked clothes clinging to my skin, I felt something I hadn’t realized I needed: safety. He wasn’t just protecting me; he was claiming me.

I looked down at the floor as the memories rushed back—of nights spent feeling abandoned and unworthy, of trying to fill that void with accolades and perfect scores on the ice.

But no trophy could compare to the fierce intensity of his gaze or the way he made me feel seen in a way I never had before.

I swallowed hard, grappling with the flood of emotions swirling inside me. How could he care so deeply when all I felt was broken? But deep down, I knew he saw more than just cracks; he saw potential—the potential for something beautiful amid all our messiness.

And maybe that scared me more than anything else.

I moved closer, our knees brushing together.

The contact sent a spark through me, a reminder of everything we had danced around.

My fingers found their way to his knuckles, trailing over the bruises that were still healing from his earlier confrontation.

I traced the rough lines of his skin, careful and reverent, as if he were made of glass.

When I looked up at him, his gaze met mine—intense and searching—as if I held the answers to questions he hadn’t even voiced yet. It felt like he was seeing me for all that I was, the good and the bad. There was no pretense in those dark eyes; just raw honesty that made my heart race.

I leaned in, slow and deliberate this time. This wasn’t like every other moment we’d shared—fast and frantic in a rush to claim each other. This was different. This felt like an invitation rather than a demand.

His breath hitched as my lips hovered close enough to feel the heat radiating between us. Knox’s hand came up, cupping my face gently. His thumb brushed against my cheek—calloused yet tender—his touch igniting something deep inside me that craved more than just a physical connection.

And when our lips finally met? It wasn’t a fierce collision but a soft melding of warmth and trust. The kiss held weight; it was an offering rather than a claim, filled with promise instead of possession.

In that moment, everything shifted within me—the frantic desire giving way to something deeper, more profound.

I could feel it settling between us—a connection that went beyond lust and crossed into uncharted territory.

It felt fragile yet powerful, like a delicate thread holding us together as we stood on the edge of something monumental.

I understood then how dangerous this was; how easily it could destroy us both if we let it unfold unchecked.

But for now, wrapped up in this moment with him, all I could think about was how right it felt to be here with him—no games, no barriers—just two people who had finally dared to take that leap together.

Knox's gaze never wavered as he scooped me up effortlessly, cradling me against his chest. His warmth seeped into my skin, a stark contrast to the chill of my rain-soaked dress.

Each step he took towards his bedroom felt deliberate, heavy with unspoken promises.

My heart pounded in sync with his footsteps, echoing in the silence between us.

He laid me gently on the bed; the mattress dipping under our combined weight. His eyes bore into mine, a silent question hanging in the air.

I nodded, breathless and nervous under his intense scrutiny. This wasn’t like the other times—this was slower, more deliberate.

Knox started with his hoodie, peeling it off me like he was unwrapping a precious gift. The fabric slipped away, leaving my skin exposed to the cool air. His fingers traced the outline of my collarbone, featherlight and reverent. I shivered, but not from cold—from anticipation.

He moved to my dress next, carefully untangling it from my body as if it were a fragile piece of art. The torn fabric fell away in pieces, leaving me vulnerable and bare before him. Knox's eyes darkened with something I couldn’t quite place—a mix of awe and possession.

When he pulled off my underwear, I felt a flush of heat rise to my cheeks. His gaze traveled over every inch of me, slow and meticulous like he was committing each curve and contour to memory. It was unnerving and exhilarating all at once.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, almost to himself.

His hands were warm against my cool skin as they began their exploration. He traced paths along my arms, across my stomach—mapping out every inch with a tenderness that left me breathless. His touch was both gentle and possessive, grounding me in this moment that felt both intimate and sacred.

Knox leaned down, pressing his lips to the hollow of my throat. A shiver ran through me as his tongue flicked out to taste my skin. He continued his journey downward—kissing, licking—marking his territory with each caress.

I arched into him instinctively, needing more of this connection that went beyond physical desire. His hands slid lower, fingers dancing along sensitive flesh until they found their destination.

Every touch sent sparks skittering across my nerves; every kiss left me aching for more. Knox’s devotion was evident in every movement—like he worshipped at an altar built solely for us.

Knox’s hands gripped my thighs, spreading them apart with a possessive urgency that sent a shiver of anticipation coursing through me. His breath was hot against my skin, each exhale a tantalizing promise of what was to come. My heart raced, and I felt the ache of need pooling deep within me.

He pressed his face against my mound, the rough stubble on his jaw scraping deliciously against the sensitive flesh.

A gasp escaped my lips as his tongue darted out, tracing a slow, deliberate path along my slit.

The sensation was electric, sending waves of pleasure radiating outward from where he touched me.

His tongue moved with purpose, each stroke more insistent than the last. He licked and sucked, alternating between gentle caresses and firmer pressure that had me writhing beneath him. My hands tangled in his hair, holding him close as he worked me over with a skill that left me breathless.

When he slid one finger inside me, I gasped again—this time louder, unable to contain the surge of pleasure that followed.

His finger curled, finding that perfect spot within me that made stars explode behind my closed eyelids.

He added a second finger, stretching me further as his mouth continued its relentless assault on my clit.

The combination of his tongue and fingers was almost too much to bear. My hips bucked against him involuntarily, seeking more of the exquisite friction he provided. Each movement was precise yet fervent, driving me closer and closer to the edge with every passing second.

I could feel the tension building within me, coiling tighter and tighter until it felt like I might shatter from the intensity of it all. Knox seemed to sense this; his efforts redoubled as he licked and sucked with renewed vigor.

My breath came in ragged gasps now—each exhale punctuated by soft moans that filled the room. Knox’s fingers thrust deeper, faster—matching the rhythm set by his mouth as he pushed me toward an inevitable climax.