“Yup,” Knox says without looking up. I reach out, fingers brushing the smooth head sticking out of the packaging. It’s foam. Dense and thick with sculpted features. The head is oval, with bulbous black eyes and a tiny slit for a mouth. “What’s beneath it?” I ask, looking down. He’s already begun tearing downward, slicing open the rest of the wrapping. What emerges is…well. A body. Large. Square. The surface is spongy and cloth-wrapped, shaped like a mattress with two raised mounds on the upper area—clearly meant to resemble alien breasts. The mouth, or whatever that opening is, sits lower on the body, oval-shaped. Webbed limbs extend on both sides, forming legs that bend outward, giving the thing an awkward but strangely endearing posture. My eyes widen as it dawns on me that this is probably mine. Who else likes aliens in this house? I don’t say anything right away. “So,” Knox says casually, “what do you think?” “You got me an alien SpongeBob?” I squeak. “Huh? No. That’s a
*** ~~SLOANE *** Another day, another round of awkward stares at the office—because apparently, everyone on my floor thinks I’m their boss now, even though my cubicle is still right next to theirs. The worst part? I haven’t even accepted the promotion. I haven’t signed anything. But just one rumor, one sighting of me being called upstairs for a private meeting, and now I’m some unspoken corporate deity. And just when I think the day can’t get any more absurd, I step outside after work and find that Knox has doubled my security detail. Two new bodyguards wait beside the usual pair, like I’m some kind of political target instead of a woman just trying to go home from work. I'm afraid to even ask what this means. He got a call from Hunter this morning, and now I’m getting additional security? What did Hunter say to him at his house? I climb into the backseat and get crammed in between two enormous strangers. This car was never designed to seat five full-grown adults. Yet here we ar
I stare at the wall just past Hunter’s head, my jaw clenched. Well, I guess that settles it. That woman’s going into early retirement—locked in a tower, guarded by a fire-breathing dragon if I can manage it. “He wants to hurt her,” says Hunter. “Maybe even Soraya. She’s stupid enough to think it's a mutual transaction in whatever twisted deal they have going on.” “Mutual transaction?” I ask. “What could she possibly need from him?” He shrugs. “I don’t know. Ask her. But for the record, I think I’m on the list of people he wants to hurt to get to you. So you’re paying for the extra security I hired. I told a psychopath to get lost yesterday and resigned from the CEO position in his company. You definitely owe me.” He turns around and starts climbing again, and I find myself staring at the back of his head while following him up. So this is where we are—Mateo’s decided I’m the scapegoat for what went down all those years ago. Figures. The man clearly skipped therapy and went straigh
*** ~~KNOX~~ *** My plans for the day certainly didn’t involve rescuing Soraya from a kidnapper who also happens to be my friend. But here I am—behind the wheel, staring through the windshield at Hunter’s fancy-ass townhouse. The driveway is as manicured as the man himself. As I kill the engine, I take a moment to breathe. I don’t want to be here. Not after last night. Not after dealing with my family's mess. I had planned to spend most of the day sweating it all out on the machines in my home gym. Now Soraya’s caught in some kind of craziness, and Hunter, of all people, decides this is the week to start committing felonies in my name. He doesn’t call for weeks, then reappears with an announcement that he's kidnapped my ex-wife. I step out of the car and shut the door with more force than necessary. The cool morning air does nothing to soothe me. I head up the stone path to the house and press the bell. A moment later, the door swings open. It’s one of Hunter’s rotating househ
Knox watches me the whole time. I slide the belt out in one quick pull and toss it aside, going for the zipper. When I finally reach in and wrap my hand around him, he jerks, hips twitching into my palm. His dick springs free, hard and ready, and as I hold it in my fist, he reaches up and pushes my bangs off my face. "You look hungry," he says. I can't pretend. "I am." "Food’s right here. All you gotta do is put it in your mouth." Those words are like a floodgate, releasing the pent-up need I've been holding back. I adjust myself, positioning my body so I can take him in my mouth. I start at the base and lick a slow line up his shaft, circling the piercing at the tip with my tongue. I can taste the slight metallic tang of his precum, and it only spurs me on. "Fuck," he groans, his hands gripping my hair, holding me in place. I take one of his balls into my mouth, rolling it gently with my tongue while I massage the other with my hand. His grunt of approval is music to my ears.
I’m off the ground the next second. Those large hands of Knox's are beneath my thighs as he lifts me up. Instinctively, my legs wrap around his waist, and my arms cling to him as tightly as my mouth does. He moves us across the living room with urgent steps, heading for the stairs. I hear the soft thud of his boots on each step, the creak of the banister as we pass, and the faint sound of our breaths mingling. When we reach the bedroom, he kicks the door open. He walks to the side of the bed and sets me down. My head finds the pillow behind me, and I keep my arms wrapped around his neck, refusing to let go. He doesn’t try to pull away. But before climbing on, he bends to tug off his shoes, one after the other, letting them thud against the floor. Then he joins me. He hovers over my head, looking down at me with eyes that still burn with a need I can feel pulsing off his skin. “Say it again,” he whispers. “Tell me how much you love me.” I open my mouth. “I—” But he leans in and