"I'm beginning to realize that."
Her eyes widened, painting her face with surprise. As if he'd said something profound.
Maybe he had.
She stood there, more than half naked, staring at the bed.
"It's different now, isn't it?" he asked. Then, seeing her face darken, he added, "Unless you're just afraid you can't control yourself around me."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm just not sure if there's room for me alongside you and your ego."
He feigned offense. "Is that really my biggest attribute? My ego?"
"I think you just proved my point. As for your point, you can keep it to yourself." She tossed him a lopsided grin and crawled under the covers.
He left her alone for precisely two seconds before he dragged her across the mattress, caveman style.
She shrieked his name, laughing and pushing playfully against his shoulders as he caught her in his arms. But all pretense of resistance ended when his mouth landed on hers. Her lips were already parted, and he took immediate advantage by pushing his tongue deep into her mouth, tasting her like a man starved. The hands she'd pressed to his shoulders looped around his neck, drawing him in and holding him there, and still he feasted. He pushed one of his knees between her thighs, grinning at the soft whimpers the pressure elicited.
He was desperate to touch her. Desperate to fill her. He settled for plunging his fingers in her hair, cradling either side of her head while he found ways to deepen the kiss. The staccato of her breaths drove him farther against her until he was cursing clothing and stupid bets and the absence of a neon-colored condom. He'd been too damned determined not to lose the bet to bring them along, but it was just as well. He'd never get past the application phase. She had him that turned on, and judging from the way her long, lithe body writhed against him, he wasn't the only one feeling the heat. He was harder than he'd ever been in his life and dangerously close to losing … and not entirely sure the bet was the only thing at stake.
Breathless and nearly trembling, he broke the kiss. His arms shook with the effort to put distance between him and, this woman, his Kryptonite.
She was looking at his mouth-or maybe not seeing anything at all. Her chest heaved, her perfect breasts swaying with every inhale. Her arms were still draped around his neck, and his willpower held on by a single frayed thread. His dick pointed. Begged. Strained. It was a full-on phallic tantrum, and it was all Knox could do ease from the circle of her arms, his teeth accidentally grazing one of her rock-hard nipples.
She drew a sharp breath, but when their eyes met, she merely offered a serene smile. Here he was, torn to pieces, and she looked as content as a basketful of puppies.
Damn. He rolled over to his side of the bed, landing flat on his back with a sigh born of frustration. His pulse raced, and there wasn't a drop of blood left in his brain. All he could think about was diving into that sweet, hot body until he shattered, then laying there while the pieces knit back together. Maybe then he'd be whole.
Maybe then he'd know how to love.
He turned his head toward her and immediately felt the heat of her gaze. The warmth drew him in. Made blue his favorite color.
"'Night, Knox," she murmured.
"Good night, Chloe"
For the longest time, he didn't move. He reached for her hand. When he found it, their fingers laced together of their own volition, as if they'd done it a thousand times before.
As if they were meant to be that way all along.
He told himself for the umpteenth time he didn't believe in love, but this time something was different.
This time he wasn't sure he wanted to listen.
Chapter Eleven
Despite the bright light of a new day, Knox was so far beyond screwed, he couldn't see straight. And he wasn't sure what bothered him most about it-that he'd lost control or the fact that Chloe clearly had. He'd known she was different the moment they'd met, but in spite of their months together, he'd failed to consider one thing: she'd never been a part of his ordinary life. She'd been a separate part of him-a part he desperately craved, but separate nonetheless. She was what happened after he shed the suit and tie and propped his bare feet on the table and ate pizza out of a box. She was losing control in a hotel room where he'd never have to wake up without her-where everything they had existed in a singular place that never threatened his everyday world.
He'd completely underestimated the effect of having those two worlds collide. Thoughts of her consumed him. They'd been back together a little more than a week, but any hopes of the novelty wearing off were lost by the fact he grew more insatiable with each passing day. And though on some level, he knew he was a jerk for wanting her, he also knew he wasn't imagining what they had between them. And now this stupid bet … he wanted to throw her down on the bed and dive into her until his limbs gave out, but the idea that doing so would ease the sexual tension between them was laughable. He was a wreck, and he didn't see an easy way around it.
"Have you heard a word I've said?" Toby frowned and peered at him over a leaf of papers. He was always frowning over a leaf of papers.
"Yeah. Jackson is a dick. You said that last week." Knox pressed his lips together. If looking at his campaign manager's ugly mug didn't eradicate thoughts of plunging balls deep into Chloe, nothing could.
Dropping the paperwork on his briefcase, Toby asked, "Why do I work for you?"
"Because I wanted the best."
Toby rolled his eyes. "Careful. That almost sounded like a compliment."
Knox grinned. "You've known me long enough to know not to take these things personally." They'd been friends since college, where they'd shared a major and a dorm room. Knox's trust was hard won … it had probably taken every bit of those four years, but Toby had earned it. He also earned his salary-he was one hell of a political strategist. The only downside was that in spending that time in such close proximity, Toby probably knew more about Knox than he should have. Overall, Knox had been pretty well-behaved, but he could think of a couple of incidents that were better kept under wraps. Of course, Toby had been right there with him. But of the two, only Knox had the kind of aspirations that could land him on the wrong side of a smear campaign.
Toby cleared his throat. "As I was saying, there have been some questions as to the timing of your marriage, but I think you're getting some points for not making it a power play."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Toby looked in the direction of the kitchen, where Chloe and Knox's mother were going through those boxes of samples.
Knox followed his gaze. He had never seen so many shades of white and had no idea why each and every one required such scrutiny, but he was content to leave the women to their devices. He understood there was an innate difference between white and cream, but to that end, the shades either matched or they didn't. Why they required further degrees of separation was beyond him, and how they could completely fill an entire kitchen table-to say nothing of several hours of planning time-was mind-bending. It occurred to him then it was a good thing they hadn't taken the traditional wedding route. He'd heard horrible stories from his buddies on the nightmarish aspects of organizing such an event-enough to realize whoever had come up with that ridiculous term "bridezilla" hadn't been so far off. At least when he spent his wedding nearly sexless, it wasn't because he'd worn the wrong color socks to the ceremony, earning the ire of his life's mate.
At least.
Toby hadn't responded. Knox tried again. "What?"
Toby looked back and forth between the kitchen and Knox a half dozen times before he managed to spit out actual words. "She seems nice, and she's so damned hot she makes you look ugly, but you didn't exactly marry up."
"Ah." He got it. Chloe wasn't a socialite. In Toby's eyes, she probably wasn't anyone at all. She didn't come from a wealthy family, and marrying her didn't qualify as a political alliance. Arranged marriages may have fallen out of favor, but business transactions were all the rage.
Little did Toby know, there wasn't a woman alive who could be any better. "Didn't think it was possible for me to marry up," Knox said.
"Yeah, yeah. You're a god."
Knox let the comment go. It was a lot easier than admitting what Chloe meant to him. "So, Jackson is batting zero. What's he going to come up with next?"
Toby shut his briefcase. "You're in a better position to answer that than me. Anything you can see coming to bite you in the ass?"
Knox leaned back in his chair and held out his hands. "Squeaky clean."
"I doubt that."
"Yeah, well, you'd be hard pressed to prove otherwise, and so would Jackson."