Chapter 95: Dance With Me

NORA’S POV

"Dance with me," Knox whispered softly against my hair.

"In our socks?" I smiled, my heart fluttering as I looped my arms around his broad shoulders.

"In our socks," Knox smiled back.

He pulled me flush against him, letting me bury my face in the warm hollow between his jaw and his shoulder, breathing in the intoxicating scent of clean cedar, rich leather, and subtle spice.

We swayed slowly on the soft wool rug in the dim, golden candlelight, my head resting right over the steady, comforting thrum of his heartbeat, the rest of the campus fading into complete insignificance.

Knox’s hand slid slowly up my spine, his fingers tangling into my curls, tilting my head back until our eyes locked in the dim light.

His gaze dropped to my mouth.

"I’ve been thinking about this all day," Knox growled softly.

He bent his head, capturing my lips in a deep, breathless kiss.

The kiss was slow and deliberate, filled with days of pent-up longing.

He parted my lips with a low groan, deepening the kiss until the room spun around me. My fingers clenched tightly into the soft cotton of his henley, clinging to him as my head leaned back.

Knox turned us toward the edge of his massive bed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress and lifting me effortlessly onto his lap. His hands slid beneath the hem of my cream sweater, his warm palms tracing the sensitive, bare skin along my ribs and the curve of my waist.

A sudden, sharp shiver ripped through my spine; I stiffened in his arms, an involuntary gasp catching in my throat.

Knox stopped instantly.

Every muscle in his body went rigid.

He pulled his hands out from beneath my sweater, breaking the kiss and lifting his head. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, his dark eyes searching my face with concern.

"Hey," Knox whispered gently. "You okay?"

My cheeks burned with embarrassment. "I’m fine, Knox. Really. You don’t have to stop."

Knox didn’t move his hands back.

Instead, he reached down with incredible tenderness, gently smoothing the hem of my sweater back down over my hips.

"Let’s stop, Bookworm," Knox murmured softly.

I looked at him, my hazel eyes wide with surprise and uncertainty. "Why? Did I do something wrong?"

"No," Knox said immediately, shaking his head. He reached up, cupping both sides of my neck, his thumbs stroking soothing circles along my jawline. "You didn’t do a single thing wrong, Nora. But I felt you tense up."

"I was just... a little nervous," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper as I looked down at the buttons of his henley.

"I know," Knox replied, tilting my chin until our eyes met again. "And that’s why we’re stopping. I’m not rushing you, Bennett. I don’t want this to be something you feel pressured into just because we’re alone in my bedroom on a Sunday night. When we do this... I want you to be completely ready. I want to do this right."

A sudden wave of emotion rose in my throat, stinging my eyes with hot tears. In my entire life, nobody had ever handled me with such careful, unselfish respect.

I took a shaky breath, clutching his wrists, and looked down at his chest, unable to meet his eyes.

"It’s not that I don’t want you, Knox," I whispered in a trembling voice. "I just... I got in my own head. You have experience, and I felt like there was this unspoken expectation."

Knox frowned slightly. "Expectation? From me?"

"From both of us," I admitted, my cheeks warming. "Especially after that day we put on that ridiculous fake show in this exact bed for Brad and the team. Banging pillows against the headboard, pretending..."

My face flamed bright red, but I forced myself to look up and meet his eyes.

"I screamed your name and acted like I was losing my mind, but the truth is... I was terrified you’d realize I was completely faking it. Because I’ve never actually had an orgasm before, Knox. Not with an ex. Not with anyone. I don’t even know what it’s supposed to feel like."

Knox’s breath hitched as silence filled the room.

For three full seconds, Knox just looked at me.

He didn’t laugh or smirk. Instead, he looked at me with such deep, protective tenderness that my knees went weak.

Knox leaned in, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to my forehead, then to the tip of my nose, and finally to my lips.

"Thank you for telling me, Nora," Knox whispered in a low, gravelly rasp against my skin. "You never have to fake anything with me. Ever. I promise you."

I let out a soft, trembling breath, leaning my forehead against his shoulder as the last lingering shadow of anxiety melted completely out of my body.

Knox stroked my hair softly for a long moment before glancing toward the dark window. "It’s past ten. And it’s freezing outside."

He stood up, walked over to his tall mahogany dresser, and pulled open the top drawer.

He pulled out a dark grey hooded sweatshirt with BRIAR HOCKEY 19 stitched in silver lettering across the chest, along with a pair of soft fleece sweatpants.

He turned around, handing them to me with a soft smile.

"Stay the night, Bookworm," Knox offered softly. "No pressure. No expectations. Just sleep."

"Really?" I whispered, clutching the soft fabric to my chest.

"Really," Knox smiled. "Go change in the bathroom. I’ll turn down the bed and grab us some water."

Five minutes later, I came out from his bathroom, drowning in his massive grey hoodie. The sleeves hung four inches past my fingertips, and the hem fell halfway down my thighs, smelling entirely of Knox... rich cedar, clean laundry, and sandalwood.

Knox had already turned down the dark down comforter on his king-sized bed, leaving only the soft amber glow of the bedside lamp on. He was wearing a fresh black t-shirt and grey sweatpants.

I crawled under the heavy, plush duvet, sinking into the massive pillows.

Knox walked around the bed, clicked off the lamp, and slid beneath the sheets beside me.

The mattress dipped under his weight.

Without a word, Knox reached out in the darkness, sliding his strong arm around my waist and pulling my small frame flush against his broad, warm chest.

He tucked his chin over the top of my chestnut curls, letting out a long, contented breath that ruffled my hair.

I rested my palm over his chest, feeling the steady, rhythmic thumping of his heart beneath my fingers.

In the quiet darkness, wrapped in his warmth and his jersey number, I closed my eyes and let sleep take me... safer, happier, and more cherished than I had ever been in my entire life.