Chapter 106: Did I Do That?

NORA’S POV

The metallic snap of the deadbolt echoed through Study Room 4C.

My breath caught in my throat as Knox Sheridan stepped fully into the small room, his massive frame practically swallowing all the available oxygen.

He dropped his leather backpack onto the empty plastic chair beside me without taking his eyes off mine.

Fresh from practice, he looked devastatingly handsome. His dark hair was still damp around the edges from the shower, curling slightly over the collar of his fitted black henley.

He smelled of cold arena ice, cedar wood, and clean sandalwood soap... a combination that immediately sent a jolt of liquid heat straight to the pit of my stomach.

"You actually wore it," Knox murmured.

He took two slow steps toward my chair, his eyes trailing down the oversized fleece of his grey #19 hoodie that fell well past my hips.

I clutched my yellow highlighter like a weapon, pointing the plastic cap at his chest to keep him from stepping any closer.

"Do not flatter yourself, Sheridan," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady as color bloomed across my cheeks. "You specifically commanded me to wear it over text. I only put it on before walking over here so you wouldn’t use it as an excuse to dodge our study session."

Knox stopped inches from my desk, his lips curving into that slow, wicked smirk that usually meant trouble for my sanity.

"Is that right?" he drawled, tilting his head. "So you’re saying you didn’t miss my scent wrapping around you all day?"

"I’m saying you have a quiz to prepare for on Thursday morning," I countered firmly, tapping the open textbook on the table. "And if you bomb it, Coach Brennan will personally assign you to fifty bag skates until your lungs collapse."

"Brennan already tried that this morning," Knox chuckled, pulling out the wooden chair next to mine and dragging it until it was pressed flush against my side. "I told him my tutor was demanding. He agreed you’re the boss."

"You’re completely shameless," I groaned, hiding my burning face behind my hand. "Coach Brennan probably thinks I’m running an academic boot camp."

"You are running a boot camp, Bookworm," Knox said softly, reaching out.

His large, calloused fingers hooked gently under my chin, lifting my face so I had no choice but to look into his piercing gaze.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

He leaned in, slow and agonizingly deliberate, until I could feel the warm puff of his breath against my parted lips. For a second, I thought he was going to kiss me senseless right there against the study table.

Instead, his mouth brushed softly against the corner of my lips... a fleeting, velvet contact that left me breathless and aching for more.

"Now," Knox murmured against my skin, pulling back just far enough to make my chest ache. "Teach me something, Bennett. Let’s see if that brilliant brain of yours can get me through Thursday."

I swallowed hard, desperately trying to gather the shredded remnants of my professional composure.

"Right," I managed, picking up my stack of neatly tabbed flashcards. "Monetary policy and the Phillips curve. Explain the short-run relationship between inflation and unemployment."

I expected him to grope for words, or make another infuriatingly charming hockey analogy.

Instead, Knox leaned his forearms against the table, his broad shoulder pressing warmly against mine, and began speaking with effortless confidence.

"In the short run, there’s an inverse relationship," Knox said smoothly, tracing a curve in the air with his fingers. "When aggregate demand increases, production ramps up and unemployment drops. But higher demand pushes prices higher, which causes inflation. When demand cools off, unemployment goes up, but price pressures ease."

I blinked at him in genuine shock. "You... actually read the Chapter."

"I read it twice," Knox said with a cocky grin, crossing his arms. "You drew that spatial diagram on the white sheet during our last session. It’s just like running an overload on the power play. You overload one side to create high pressure, but you leave space open on the weak side. Economics is just spatial positioning with dollar signs."

A wide smile spread across my face before I could stop it.

Seeing the way his mind worked... the brilliant, spatial intelligence he had spent years hiding behind an aloof jock persona, made my chest swell with pride.

"You’re a fast learner, Sheridan," I admitted softly.

"I told you," Knox said, his voice dropping into a deeper, intimate register. "I learn fast when I have the right motivation."

The playful air in the room suddenly shifted, thick with simmering tension.

"And what’s your motivation?" I whispered.

Knox didn’t answer with words.

He pushed his chair back, stood up to his full six-foot-three height, and stepped directly behind me.

He leaned over the back of my wooden chair, placing both hands flat on the table on either side of my notes, effectively trapping me between his muscular arms.

My breath hitched.

The heat of his chest pressed flush against my back, radiating straight through the thick fleece of his hoodie.

"My motivation," Knox murmured directly into the sensitive curve where my neck met my shoulder, "is getting through Friday night."

A delicious, helpless shiver cascaded down my spine, making the fine hairs on my arms stand up. "Friday," I breathed, my fingers clutching the edge of the maple desk.

"Friday," Knox repeated, his warm lips lightly brushing the tender skin behind my ear. "After the Boston game. When we’re back in my room. With no teammates banging on the front door. And no locked deadbolts keeping me from taking my time with you."

My stomach swooped in delicious vertigo.

The memory of yesterday morning... his calloused fingers stroking inside me, the hum of the blush-pink rose against my clit, and the shattering peak of my first orgasm, slammed into my mind with breathtaking force.

Before I could draw another breath, Knox reached down, gripped the wooden armrests of my chair, and smoothly spun me around to face him.

He stepped forward between my knees, effectively trapping me in the seat. I looked up, my hands resting flat on the armrests, my heart pounding against my ribs as he towered over me.

Right at eye level, the unbuttoned collar of his black henley had shifted slightly to the side.

Peeking out against his tanned skin, right below his collarbone, was a distinct, faint purple bruise shaped like a small crescent.

My eyes widened in stunned recognition.

"Knox," I whispered, reaching up with trembling fingers to brush the cotton fabric aside. "Is that... did I do that?"

Knox glanced down at my hand resting against his chest, a slow, possessive smirk spreading across his handsome face. "Yeah, Bookworm," he rumbled, covering my hand with his own and pressing my palm flat against his hammering heart. "You marked your captain. Bit me right when you came."

A rush of fiery heat surged into my cheeks, but looking at that mark didn’t make me feel shy. It made something bold and possessive curl tight in my stomach.

"You told me to bite you," I murmured, looking up at him through my lashes. "You said Bear was downstairs and I had to be quiet."

"And you followed instructions beautifully," Knox whispered. "Which is why waiting until Friday is going to kill me."

Before I could reply, he fisted both hands into the fabric of his hoodie at my waist and hauled me right up out of the seat until I was pressed flush against him.

My hands flew to his chest, gripping the cotton of his shirt as his mouth crashed down on mine.

The kiss was desperate, fiery, and completely uninhibited.

I let out a soft whimper into his mouth, parting my lips, and Knox groaned roughly as his tongue swept inside.

He tasted like peppermint and pure fire. His hands slid around to my lower back, lifting me slightly until my hips were pinned against the edge of the table.

Every tiny nerve ending that had awakened yesterday flared to life all at once.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, tangling my fingers in his soft hair, pressing myself as close to him as physically possible.

I could feel the hard, undeniable ridge of his arousal pressing against my thigh, proof of how much restraint it was taking for him not to tear my clothes off right here on the fourth floor of the university library.

Knox broke the kiss with a ragged gasp, burying his face in the crook of my neck, his chest heaving against mine.

"Bennett," he rasped, his fingers digging into my hips. "If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to lock this desk and forget every single rule we made."

A breathless laugh escaped my lips, my forehead resting against his strong jaw.

"We made a deal, Sheridan," I whispered, smiling against his warm skin. "Friday after the Boston game."

"You’re a cruel tutor, Nora Bennett."

"Only the best for my star pupil."

Knox pressed one last, lingering kiss to my swollen lips, then took a step back with a rough, reluctant groan, running a hand over his face.

"Okay," Knox muttered, shaking his head and pulling his chair back into place. "Draw the long-run aggregate supply curve before I lose my mind."

I laughed, smoothing down the front of his oversized hoodie as I sank back into my chair.