Midnight Muse

The steam from my shower has revealed a message written on the mirror that reads ‘hurry up, fucker.’ It’s been left by Slate, no doubt, and I smile, thinking about him sneaking in here while Ace or Knox were showering to leave them this note. Only he could have such scraggly writing like this. His entire persona screams sneaking into the bathroom while his roommates are showering just to leave them cheeky messages.

The novelty of the joke doesn’t last long when I hear rummaging from the other side of the door. It hits me once again exactly where I am and who I’m with.

Enough, I scold myself. It’s now or never. I only need to stay here for as long as it takes Ace and Rory to finish fucking or until Slate comes back so he can be the buffer between Knox and I, even if he isn’t being entirely intolerable tonight.

After making sure my panties are folded as small as possible and tucked tightly into the middle of my wet clothes pile, I scoop them from the floor and exit the bathroom.

The smell that slaps me in the face is incredible and my stomach agrees with a loud growl.

The sight might be even better.

Knox is standing over the stove, shirtless as he stirs something in the pan that smells like heaven. My mouth waters and I blame it on the aroma of whatever he’s making and not the fact that his back looks just as good as I imagined it.

Two, large wings are tattooed across the expanse of his shoulder blades, dipping down to caress the line of his spine. They flex when he moves, reaching to stir something in a different pot, and my knees wobble as all of the warmth from my shower converges deep between my legs.

He’s changed his pants, I notice, into a pair of light gray sweatpants that hang so low on his hips that I can see the cutting lines of muscle where they triangle into the waistband. There’s no line of underwear to be seen, but the two dimples at the base of his spine call out to me and I want to press my tongue into them.

Knox turns, heading for the fridge, freezing when he sees me standing two feet out of the bathroom, ogling him.

The jade of his eyes stirs and my cheeks go molten. They’re so hot I can probably fry an egg on them while Knox takes his time looking me up and down, just like I’d been doing to his backside a second ago.

Of course, his chest looks even more magnificent than his back. I knew he was muscular but I wasn’t quite picturing this. The cording of his muscles, arms bulging with little effort, the tight abdominals and taut waist. The expanse of tattoos lining Knox’s skin are inked exactly where they belong, an effortless addition to his beauty that even Monet would be envious of. I need to take a step closer, get a better look at them. He’s glorious, and it makes me want to drop everything and draw him, trace those lines with my pencils, my fingers, and my tongue?—

“You can put your clothes in the dryer,” Knox croaks, and his words startle the both of us into action. My brows furrow until his sentence catches up with me and then I’m looking down at the bundle of wet clothes I’m holding so tightly to my chest, even my clean shirt is wet with it. It also gives me something to lay my eyes on instead of his illustrious body. “If you want to.”

I nod because I don’t trust my voice right now. Shuffling quickly to the dryer, I stuff my clothes inside, reminding myself that I should not be ogling the noisy neighbor who just happens to be the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.

And he’s most certainly a prick underneath all that glory, so there’s that.

“Thanks,” I murmur once I’ve started the machine. I dare step closer to see what he’s doing in the kitchen but when he glances at me from the corner of his eye, I freeze all over again like a fucking deer in headlights. “What are you making?”

“Chicken and pasta,” he says as if he’s making something as simple as a bowl of cereal, which would have sufficed. With the scents filtering through the room, I know it’s not as simple as chicken with pasta, but I refrain from asking. “Hopefully you’re hungry.”

I don’t question why he’s making something so extravagant but I also won’t complain. I’m hungry as fuck, and Knox is kind of…pleasant when he’s not being an utter dick.

“It smells incredible,” I offer politely, testing the waters with him. I’m not sure if we’re drawing up some sort of continued peace treaty, but the petty part of me still wants an apology out of him. A girl is hungry right now, so I can wait a little longer. “Can I help you with anything?”

Knox shakes his head. “Almost done, Princess. Have a seat.”

I do as he says, ignoring the nickname he refuses to stop calling me. I find a spot at the counter and the both of us fall into a peaceful silence as I watch him plate the dishes. He seems completely focused on the task at hand, rinsing the pasta and serving it into wide bowls. He seems confident in every step that he’s taking and a pinprick of envy pokes holes in my stomach.

I shift uncomfortably in my chair the longer I think about it.

“Do you think Slate will be back soon?” I blurt with sudden unease.

Knox doesn’t glance at me when he responds. “I’m not good enough for you, Princess?”

“Considering you’ve been a grumpy prick since we met, I’d say that answer is pretty obvious. And I told you to stop calling me that,” I snap, taking the bait. “I hate it.”

Naturally, my request is denied as Knox tops the sauce with some freshly grated cheese and slides a bowl across the counter to me. “Here you are, Princess. Enjoy.” Holy hell. I thought it smelled orgasmic, but it looks even better. My mouth is watering already and I can’t wait to dive in.

Knox rounds the counter, sinking down onto the barstool next to me with his own serving. He slides me a fork and sets a stack of napkins down between us, eyeing me as I stare between him and the steaming dish in front of me like the mess that I am.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

Nice one, Quinn, really. The fuck did you have to say that for? Just shut up and accept the food.

In what I’m learning is typical Knox fashion, he lifts a brow, watching me with that intense gaze of his. “Do you prefer it when I’m rude, Princess?”