Chapter 73: Wet For Me

NORA’S POV

"May I?"

I nodded, not trusting my own voice to form a coherent word.

That was all he needed.

Whatever thin thread of restraint Knox had been holding onto snapped completely. His mouth found mine again, slower now, like he had all the time in the world and intended to memorize every single second of it.

The kiss was devastating, an intoxicating exploration that stripped away every remaining defense I had spent weeks constructing. My hands slipped from the cotton of his hoodie to the solid muscle of his shoulders, gripping him tightly as I completely surrendered to the pull of him.

Knox shifted his weight, sitting back on his heels just enough to create a sliver of space between our bodies.

His hands gripped the hem of my oversized sleep shirt, slowly lifting the fabric upward without once breaking eye contact. I lifted my arms, letting him slide the shirt over my head and toss it carelessly off the side of the mattress.

Before I could even catch my breath, his fingers moved behind my back, deftly unclasping my bra. The straps slipped down my arms, and the lace fell away.

The cool night air of the dorm room hit my bare skin, and a furious, burning blush instantly rushed up my neck and covered my cheeks.

I was completely bare from the waist up beneath his dark, intense gaze.

Instinctively, I moved to cross my arms over my chest, suddenly overwhelmed by the raw vulnerability of the moment, but Knox caught my wrists firmly but also in a gentle grip.

He pulled my arms back down, pinning them lightly against the mattress beside my head.

"Don’t," Knox murmured. His eyes swept slowly over my bare chest, filled with a hunger that made my pulse completely short-circuit. "You’re perfect, Bookworm."

My breath hitched as the embarrassment instantly melted into a suffocating surge of heat.

I didn’t want him to be the only one looking.

I reached up with trembling hands, gripping the hem of his dark shirt. Knox immediately released my wrists to help me, pulling the fabric over his head in one fluid, powerful motion and tossing it onto the floor to join mine.

My mouth went completely dry as I stared at him.

I had seen Knox shirtless before, but never like this. Never with him hovering directly over me in the shadows of my bed, close enough that the scorching heat radiating from his skin warmed my own.

I flattened my palms against his chest, feeling the contoured cut of his abdominal muscles, the broad expanse of his shoulders, and the frantic, heavy pounding of his heart beneath my fingertips.

Knox lowered his head, trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses down the line of my jaw until he found the wildly sensitive pulse point right beneath my ear.

A sharp, involuntary gasp escaped my lips as his teeth lightly grazed my skin.

His calloused hands moved downward, cupping my bare breasts. The contrast of his rough, hockey-worn hands against my soft skin sent a violent, electric shock straight to my core.

His thumbs brushed over my peaking nipples, teasing them with a slow, rhythmic friction that made me writhe helplessly beneath his weight.

"Knox," I breathed, my voice fracturing into a desperate plea.

He didn’t answer with words.

He just trailed his lips lower, kissing a burning path down the center of my chest, over the dip of my collarbone, until his warm mouth hovered directly over my right breast. The hot puff of his breath alone made me shiver.

Then, he closed the distance and took the hard peak into his hot, wet mouth.

My back bowed off the mattress.

The sudden, intense suction sent a devastating wave of pure pleasure crashing through my entire nervous system.

Knox sucked gently, swirling his tongue around my nipples. My hands flew up, tangling desperately in his dark, messy curls, holding his head firmly against my chest as a loud, shameless moan tore from my throat.

"Ahhhh... Knox, yes!"

While his mouth worked miracles on my right breast, his free hand attended to the left. He kneaded the soft flesh, pinching and rolling the sensitive bud between his thumb and forefinger in a maddening rhythm.

The dual sensation was completely blinding; I couldn’t think.

I couldn’t form a single rational equation in my head. I was entirely reduced to the feeling of his mouth, his hands, the scorching heat radiating from his massive body, and the growing, slick ache between my thighs.

I lost all track of where I was. I forgot about the dorm room, the late hour, and the danger of what we were doing.

My arousal was a heavy, throbbing ache, amplified a hundred times over by the solid, unmistakable pressure of his heavy length pressing intimately against my thighs through the fabric of our pants.

Every time Knox shifted his hips, the friction sent a spike of desperate need straight down my spine.

The fake-dating rules, the contract, the entire outside world... all of it dissolved into pure, unfiltered heat.

I didn’t care about Harold Orwell anymore. I didn’t care about Garrison Sheridan or the donor board. All I cared about was the fact that Knox Sheridan was in my bed, making me feel things I had never even imagined were possible.

I whimpered, my hips unconsciously bucking upward, chasing that friction.

Knox let out a low, rough groan against my skin.

Slowly, reluctantly, he released my breast from his mouth, leaving the skin slick and burning in the cool room air. He kept one hand firmly cupping and teasing my breast, but his other hand began to travel downward.

He traced the curve of my waist, the dip of my stomach, until his long fingers reached the waistband of my sleep shorts.

He made quick work of them, sliding the fabric down my hips with urgent, rough impatience until I managed to kick them off the edge of the bed.

His hand slipped between my bare thighs, his palm gliding slowly over the thin cotton of my panties. Even through the fabric, the intense heat of his hand made me gasp sharply in pleasure.

"Look at this," Knox purred with a slow, devastating smirk as his fingers traced the damp, soaked edge of the lace. "You’re so wet for me, Nora."