Her grip is firm. Surprises me.
"Nice to meet you," she says. She flicks a glance at my tattoos, my skirt, the cut of my tank top, then at Knox by the grill.
"Knox's wife," James adds proudly, as if that's a credential.
Her brows lift. "I didn't even know Knox was married," she says, flatly filing the information away.
I smile, a little crooked. "That makes two of us."
Her gaze holds mine a beat longer than polite, that pressed expression easing a fraction.
I loop my arm through hers, the move instinctive, bold.
The way she braced inside that hug lands square in my chest. I know that posture. Wore it. Ran until Knox caught me. No telling who caught Candace, or if anyone did.
"Come on," I say, voice steadier than I feel. "Maggie and the others are inside. If we don't let her fuss over you, she'll combust."
Candace lets me lead.
As we walk toward the open clubhouse door, Knox's gaze burns my back.
"Welcome to the circus," I tell her.
Maggie's laugh reaches us before we're through the door. Candace's grip on my arm tightens once, then loosens.
Chapter 13
Sloane
Myalarmgoesoffat 5 a.m. and Knox's hand is already on my ass.
"Turn that shit off," he growls into the back of my neck, voice rough with sleep and sex and stubbornness. His hips are flush against my backside, breath hot against my skin.
"It's my twelve," I mumble, groping blindly for my phone. "If I turn it off, we both know I'm not getting up."
His arm bands tighter around my waist. "Exactly my point."
The alarm shuts off. The sudden quiet is thick and heavy, as though the room's holding its breath. Knox rolls me onto my back, bracing one forearm by my head. The other hand slides under my T-shirt, and his fingers splay over my ribs.
He's hard.
"I hate these fucking twelve-hour shifts," he mutters, kissing the corner of my mouth. "Whoever thought they were a good idea needs to be shot."
I huff a sleepy laugh. "You say that like you're not going to show up halfway through with coffee and a smug face."
His mouth curves, but his eyes stay dark, fixed on me as though I'm the only thing in the room worth eating. "Damn right I'm going to show up. You in those scrubs?" His thumb strokes just under my breast, lazy and possessive. "I have a right to inspect workplace conditions."
"Pretty sure HR would disagree," I say, but my voice is already breathy, betraying me.
He lowers his head and kisses me properly. Thoroughly. Deeply. It's the kind of kiss that scrambles time. His tongue slides against mine, hand cupping my jaw, and holds me still while he takes.
He tastes like sleep, last night's toothpaste, and something that's just him. My brain throws up an unhelpful slideshow of every place I've had him in the last week.
Counter. Shower. Couch. Against the pantry door with my skirt rucked up around my hips.
I arch into him without meaning to. My thighs fall open. He groans into my mouth, the sound low and broken, and rocks his hips once, slow and indecent.
"Knox," I whisper, fingers flexing on his shoulders. "I'm going to be late."