Chapter 5 What was That

Knox POV

On my way out of the office, I swore I was trying to focus on my night. I really was. I had a whole plan. Bree. My penthouse. My signature Ferragamo. Some decent Italian food and maybe, maybe, a halfway decent orgasm. But no.

All I could think about was Sienna.

Specifically, that damn shirt she had on after she took off her jacket. Who knew the woman was hiding a whole brick house under her workwear? The way it hugged her curves, and those breasts, man, like full, round promises that didn’t make sense on someone so serious. And her waist? Snatched. Like God pressed the hourglass mold extra tight on purpose.

And don’t get me started on that wedding. She came in there looking like sin wrapped in silk. Her thick legs, that juicy bubble butt, the little peek of cleavage that nearly had me spilling champagne all over my tux. She’s been playing games, wearing those loose blazers and flowy slacks like we wouldn’t notice. Like I wouldn’t notice. I’m her boss, not blind.

I shook my head as I pulled into the garage of my Gold Coast penthouse. My matte black Urus purred into its reserved spot, but my brain was anything but calm. I pressed the elevator button like it owed me money, trying to shove Sienna and her distracting assets out of my head.

Upstairs, I walked into the crisp quiet of my space. Clean lines. Black and white everything. Big windows showing off Lake Michigan. It was bachelor heaven, and I was alone in it with nothing but a semi and a wild imagination.

I ordered Maggiano’s through DoorDash like a good little gentleman...chicken parm and some tiramisu to act like I had romance in mind. Then I jumped in the shower, threw on my black slacks, a white button-up, left a couple buttons undone to flex a little chest, and sprayed on that Ferragamo. You know, the one that makes women linger a little too close when they hug you.

Just as I adjusted my cuffs, ding-dong. DoorDash. Right on time. I grabbed the bag, plated the food like I didn’t just peel off the seal ten seconds ago, and then...

Ding-dong again.

I knew that second ring wasn’t food.

It was Bree.

She kissed my cheek, and I swear I felt it all the way down my spine.

“Hey, baby,” Bree said, her voice smooth like honey laced with heat.

“Hey, come on in,” I said, stepping aside, but she was already gliding into the penthouse like she owned the damn place. She kicked off her heels with one graceful flick and handed me her coat.

Underneath? Trouble.

That little black dress clung to every curve like it was afraid to let go. Bree was 5’10 of certified danger with long, toned legs, a narrow waist, and just the right amount of ass to make a grown man forget his name. Her breasts sat high and perfect, a full B-cup that bounced slightly with every step. Her freckles dusted her light brown skin like stars across caramel. She had her red curls up in a high ponytail, but it was those lips, plump, glossy, painted in a red that screamed sin now, consequences later... that had my attention locked.

“I got us some dinner from Maggiano’s,” I offered, trying to pretend I wasn’t already half hard from just watching her breathe.

But Bree? Bree had other plans.

She turned to drop her purse on the couch, and then, without a word, she peeled the dress off in one fluid motion. No hesitation. No build-up. Just skin, smooth, radiant, begging to be touched. The black lace thong barely covered anything. She looked over her shoulder, licked her lips slowly, and said in that husky voice, “I thought I told you to be naked when I got here.”

Game over.

I tore off my clothes like they were on fire. She walked toward me in nothing but that lace thong and her red lipstick, and I was already gone. Our mouths crashed like magnets... urgent, desperate. Her nails raked through my hair, my hands explored every inch of her like I was memorizing the lines of a sacred text.

She gasped when I grabbed her thighs and lifted her onto the counter, knocking over the dinner plates. Didn't matter. She wrapped her legs around me and ground herself against my already aching need, moaning into my neck, “God, I missed this.”

“I missed you,” I lied, or maybe it wasn’t a lie. Maybe I missed the version of me that only existed when I was inside her.

We barely made it to the bedroom. Rough kisses, condoms, breathless laughter, skin on skin. When my dick entered her wetness, her body moved like music, and I was the damn beat. Every time I pushed deeper, she met me with more, pulling me in with her legs, biting my shoulder when I hit her spot just right.

“Damn, Bree,” I groaned, gripping her waist as she rode me like she had something to prove. I felt her walls tighten and started to moan out loudly as I continued to pump into her through her orgasm as I chased mine.

She leaned down, lips inches from mine, eyes locked in mine. “I needed this. I needed you.”

But just when I was ready to lose myself in her, ready to finally cross that line between lust and release, she slid off, kissed me on the cheek again, and reached for her dress.

Twenty minutes. That’s all it was.

I lay there, dazed, the sheets tangled around my legs as she pulled on her heels.

“Wait,” I said, my voice hoarse. “You’re leaving?”

“I’ve got a date at ten. I told you.” She winked and grabbed her bag. “Thanks for the warm-up, baby. Your cock always hits the spot.”

She blew me a kiss and disappeared, leaving only her scent, and my condom laden rock-hard dick, behind.

I stared at the ceiling, feeling like someone had just gotten robbed but wanted to leave a tip.

“Damn,” I muttered, rubbing a hand down my face. “So this is what women be talking about?”

I got up, still hard, still confused, and headed for the coldest shower known to man. I threw the condom in the trash and stepped into the shower,

And yet, even with the water pouring down my back, the only image I couldn’t shake… was Sienna.