My voice goes wobbly and high as Knox sweeps me off my feet and tosses me over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” My top half is hanging upside down, and I slap my hands against his butt as he strides fast up the beach path. “Knox Bradford! Put me down!”
“I’ll put you down in just a minute.” He keeps going, and I keep slapping his firm backside until he finally gets to a vehicle.
I hear the chirp of a lock then a door opening, and he plops me into the backseat of his Rover.
“Pull in your feet,” he orders, and I do as I’m told.
The door slams and he gets into the front, starts the engine, and drives us up a narrow road through arching, ancient, fern-covered tree limbs.
“Is this the way to the guesthouse?” My voice is small from the backseat.
He doesn’t answer. I can see the side of his square jaw, and the muscle there moves back and forth. His brow is lowered, and I don’t know what I did to piss him off.
“Knox?”
It’s a short drive, and he pulls into a curved gravel driveway. Again, without a word, he parks the car and gets out, opening my door and reaching in to pull me out, into his arms.
This time, he’s holding me in front, and I’m able to see his gorgeous face. “I’m not sure why you’re angry with me.”
He’s carrying me through the grounds of a large estatewith flowering bushes, fruit trees, and a long, rectangular lapis-blue swimming pool.
When we get to a small cottage, he stops, putting me on my feet and taking out his phone. He enters a code, and when the door opens, he sweeps me into his arms again and carries me over the threshold.
Back on my feet again, we’re standing in front of a plush king-sized bed piled high with overstuffed pillows.
“Now, say that again.” Knox’s eyes flash, and his brow lowers.
My mind races, and I try to remember. “I’m a fan? You lost the playoffs? What?”
“Before that.”
I look to the side, replaying my words in my head. “I’m going to have to rebrand?”
“Because…”
“I can’t criticize you now that I…” My lips press together, and I almost snort a laugh. “Ohh…” Puckering my lips, I blink my eyes as I roll them to the ceiling. “It seems you’re waiting for me to say something.”
He exhales a low growl, and my stomach tickles. I remember him on the screen of my phone. He called me after his cousin told him about my show, earnest blue eyes wide…
Lifting my hands, I thread my fingers in the sides of his soft, dark hair. “I think you’re a good man… and a very good father.”
“And…”
My lips twist, and I pretend to be considering my words. “You’re a great football player, probably destined to become the next Bradford legend.”
He catches my chin in his fingers, tilting my head so I have to meet his eyes. “And?”
“You’re a poet.”
His head lowers, warm breath skating across my heavy lips. “Say it.”
My tongue slips out, sliding. “And I love you.”
The air disappears between us. His mouth covers mine, sealing, parting. Tongues collide, and a soft whimper aches through my throat. His hands slide under my ass, and he lifts me off my feet as my heart beats faster.
My skin is on fire, and sparkling electricity is in my veins. Before we’ve been angry and desperate. Now we’re starving and thrilled.