“Oh, sure.”
Two words. It’s all I can manage because just the thought of Knox touching me again has my skin tingling in anticipation.
Thirsty, indeed.
He straightens my hips and uses his foot to nudge mine further apart. There’s nothing suggestive or inappropriate in his touch, but tell that to my body. Knox leans down, molding his chest to my back, and a shiver races down my spine. He smells of citrus and sandalwood. It’s a sharp contrast to the scent I’ve come to associate with him, and I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with the calming aroma.
Knox clears his throat, and then his arms are around me, his hands encircling mine.
His breath is hot on my ear as he whispers. “How does this feel?”
Really freaking good.
But I can’t say that.
“Okay.”
“It might be a little uncomfortable at first, but after a few holes, it’ll be as natural as breathing.” Wait.Are we still talking about golf?“Don’t worry, we’ll take it nice and slow.”
I nod, unable to make actual words. Who could blame me? The prospect of having Knox back in my bed is—
“Breathe, Ava.”
I force myself to focus on the game and exhale, the breath leaving my body in a rush.
“There you go. Nice and gentle.”
He draws my arms back, and we swing as one.
My club connects with the ball, and a satisfyingcrackfills the air.
This time, the ball rolls down the green and right into the gator’s mouth, a metallic clang echoing across the green as it makes its way through the obstacle. It pops out the other end, and I watch with bated breath as it approaches the hole, circles the lip, and drops inside with aplunk.
“I did it!” Pride wells up from the pit of my stomach, and I straighten, bouncing on my toes. “I actually freaking did it!”
“Yeah, you did.” Knox grins, and I swear there’s pride shining in his eyes. It’s the same look my mom used to get when I landed an especially difficult vault. “And you got a hole in one.”
“Now let’s see if I can do it again, without help.”
Spoiler alert:My first hole in one is also my last.
By the time we finish the eighteenth hole, I’m well over par. Once I even had to pick up my ball because apparently you can run out of strokes.
“I thought you said golf lessons didn’t take?” I plant a hand on my hip and study Knox’s face for any sign of deception. “According to this scoresheet, you’re a pro.”
Be so for real. He’s had plenty of experience on this course, and you’re abysmal.
“Playing putt-putt is not the same as playing golf.” He smirks. “Take me to a real course, and I’m a disaster. I never know which club to use, and I’m pretty sure I hold some kind of record for shanking the ball.”
I laugh, throwing my head back. “That actually tracks. You’re so good at being bad that you hold an actual record.”
“What can I say? I’m an overachiever.” He rubs the back of his neck, and is it my imagination or is there a flush in his cheeks? It’s hard to be sure with the beard, and it could be the result of too much sun, but… “Did you at least have a little bit of fun?”
The question catches me off guard. How could this sexy, confident man have any doubt that I’m enjoying myself? The fact that he cares enough to ask is just another green flag in his favor. “I am having a great time, despite the fact that I’m terrible at miniature golf.”
He chuckles, and the quiet rumble reverberates in the air between us. “You weren’t terrible.”
“Tell that to the scoresheet.”