Midnight Muse

Pausing, I wait for him to continue, because really, I’m not all that confident about my other options.

“I cannot, in good conscience, kick you to the street,” he says, shutting off the water and wiping his hands clean on the kitchen towel. I watch him as he does, once again drawn to the marks on his hands and forearms.

He catches me looking and his jade eyes harden, but he doesn’t shift away or hide his hands, as if he’s used to people staring. I feel guilty, anyway, with the way he’s assessing me.

Knox looks a little like he might kick me to the curb, after all.

So, I build up that wall, fighting back like I always do. “You? A good conscience? As if.”

“I’m doing it more for Slate than for you. If he finds out I let you leave with no place to go, he’ll pummel me into the ground.”

I study him. He doesn’t break my stare, allowing me to search for whatever it is I’m looking for in those hillside eyes. I don’t even know what I’m hunting for, but I welcome the challenge.

“Afraid of Slate?” I taunt.

Knox crosses his arms over his chest and the sight of his muscles flexing makes me weak, my gaze trailing the movement. My mouth runs dry but my pussy is dripping and there’s no missing the way that his eyes melt with heat before I can snap myself out of it.

Knox shakes his head, the corner of his mouth tilting up, and it eases the tension a bit. “Have you seen how big he is?”

My shoulders slump at the ease that’s returned once again. It’s like a tennis match between us, the highs and the lows, volleying for attention. “Yeah,” I agree. “I have.”

His jaw flexes and he turns slowly, as if he’s afraid I might actually go running from the apartment and he’ll have to chase me down. I kind of want him to, I think before immediately cutting that thought off. No need to be thinking about a shirtless man running after me through the halls of the apartment complex and wondering what he might do if he catches me.

Shit.

When Knox is sure that I’m not going to leave, he returns to washing the dishes while I stand by the door like a fool. I can bear it for all of one minute—which I pride myself on—and then I shift on my feet, drawing his attention once more.

“You can sleep in my room. I’ll take the couch.”

That’s not at all what I was expecting him to say.

My throat dries right the fuck up because what? My gorgeous—albeit an asshole—neighbor is offering me a ride, shower, food, and his bed? I’d marry him right now too if I didn’t know that he has the personality of a brick wall.

Truly, a shame.

Knox doesn’t look my way while he offers this and I’m thankful because I feel like melting into the floor with how hot my cheeks surge.

“No, no,” I respond hastily, “I’ll take the couch. I’m not all that sure I’ll be able to sleep with the image of Ace’s ass in my head, anyway,” I word vomit, mind scrambling to put letters together as I imagine what the inside of Knox’s room looks like. “Was that a tramp stamp I saw?”

Knox bites back a smile that makes my heart race and my knees wobble.

“Sure was, gave it to him myself.”

“Shut up,” I squeal, before we both break out into laughter.

It’s nice, being on Knox’s good side. He has a great laugh, a low rumble that wraps around my bones like warm honey.

“At least take Slate’s room, then,” he offers. “I’m sure he won’t mind.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Are the sheets even clean?”

His quiet chortle is melodic, husky like he hasn’t laughed in years.

It makes me ache for him.

“That’s a gamble you’ll have to take if you don’t want to sleep in my room.”

God, he really does make it sound appealing.