He stares at me expectantly, waiting for a reply. “It’s fine. Really. I don’t want to trouble you. I’ll just call maintenance.”
“They’ll take forever to get out here.” He opens the door to study it. “The lease may promise forty-eight-hour service, but trust me, it’s more like seven to ten business days.” He turns, flashing those irresistible dimples. “Besides, you don’t want some random dude poking around your apartment.”
I quirk a brow, doing my best to keep a straight face.
“Hey, I am not random.” He throws his hands up in self-defense, revealing the calloused fingers I remember so well. “We’re neighbors, and where I come from, neighbors help each other out. Besides,”—he shoots me a meaningful look—”we have history.”
My pulse quickens, and I will myself not to blush for the eleventy-billionth time, because yeah, we’re really doing this. Addressing the elephant in the room. Like adults.
“I’m not sure a one-night stand counts as history.” Especially when I’ve thought about it so many times, it feels like it was yesterday.
“That’s debatable,” he replies smoothly. “But I think you know that you can trust me.”
“Oh, really?” I plant a hand on my hip, letting myself slide into the playful banter. It’s been ages since I’ve flirted with a man, and while I may be out of practice, Knox has charm in spades. “And how exactly can I be sure you’re trustworthy?”
The question is an invitation. No, a challenge. Knox meets it head-on, his smoldering gaze locked on mine.
Tension crackles in the air between us, and without a word, he stalks toward me, his lithe body moving with predatory grace.
I retreat, but there’s nowhere to go.
My back hits the wall, and an undignified squeak bursts from my lips.
Way to play it cool, Ava.
“There’s no reason to be nervous, darlin’.” Knox hooks a finger under my chin and tips my head back. We’re so close my nipples brush his chest with each breath I take, and his scent—a heady blend of sweat and sunscreen—brings me back to that night in Cancún. “You trusted me with your body once. You can trust me with a faulty hinge.”
I open my mouth to reply, but what can I say? He’s right. Knox was the first and only man to put my pleasure beforehis own. He was patient and thoughtful, and why am I even debating this? It’s a simple repair, not a lifelong commitment.
Stop making a mountain out of a molehill.
Knox braces his free hand on the wall above my head, eyes locked on mine. He towers over me, caging me in with his muscular body, but I’m not afraid. I feel…safe. Seen.Desirable. He caresses my cheek with his thumb, sending a hot bolt of desire straight to my core.
Time melts away as I lean into his touch, the fire that sparked between us five years ago flaring to life. He must feel it too because he lowers his mouth to mine. He’s going to kiss me, right here, right now, and god help me, I want to feel the soft press of his lips on my body, want to feel his teeth scrape along my jawline. But that’s unhinged, right?
Five minutes ago, I didn’t even know his name. Sure, we have history, but we were kids then. What we did was impulsive. Irresponsible. Completely without consequence.
We’re adults now. Neighbors. If things go south—
“You’re not ready yet,” he whispers, voice like gravel. “That’s okay. We’ve got all the time in the world to get to know one another. And make no mistake, Ava, I want to know you.”
“You do?” The words are out before I can stop them, and I desperately wish I could suck them back in.
“More than anything.” He releases my chin and takes a step back, giving me space to breathe freely. To think clearly. “Which is why I’d like to take you on a proper date. Are you free tonight?”
3
KNOX
A watched pot never boils.
Tell it to my nerves. I’ve checked the microwave clock a half dozen times, but I’ve still got ten minutes until my date with Ava. You’d think the fact that she lives right next door would ease the stress, but you’d be wrong.
Hell, I wish I were fighting Atlanta traffic right now. At least then I’d have something to distract me from the fact that after all this time, she’s come back into my life. I still can’t wrap my head around it. There are eight billion people on the planet. Six million of them live in the metro area. The likelihood of us crossing paths, let alone being neighbors, is statistically improbable.
Yet here we are.
Leaning against the kitchen counter, I roll my neck, attempting to ease the tension that’s settled between my shoulder blades. My muscles pull taut, but it’s no good.