19. Knox

My front door cracked open,and Larkin’s voice called, “It’s me.”

“In here,” I said softly. I didn’t want to be too loud since Jackson was asleep on my chest and Emily was asleep on my side. Honestly, I’d needed to pee for the last half hour, but I wasn’t messing this up.

She came in, a silk robe wrapped tightly around her curvaceous body. Her cheeks were flushed and her curls slightly mussed.

My stomach fucking dropped.

The thought of Bennett having sex with her made me want to punch a wall and evaporate into thin air, because being in my feelings right now would only lead to destruction. I opened my mouth to speak, but my throat was dry and nothing came out.

But then she held something up, a pink eraser-colored whoopee cushion and I let out an awkward, strangled laugh. Had it gone off while she and Bennett were—best not think about it.

“Knox!” she whispered-yelled as to not wake her children while Bluey played on the TV.

“Hold on,” I said, carefully easing myself out of my spot. I brought Jackson to the crib in the playroom, feeling Larkin’s eyes drilling holes into my back. When I returned, I put a soft throw blanket over Emily where she slept on the couch, brown curls askew around her face.

And okay, maybe I was using the kids to stall, but they were damn cute too. How could you not?

When I finished, Larkin jerked her thumb toward my kitchen then turned to walk away, her silk robe swaying tantalizingly around her ass. In the kitchen, she spun to face me, arms folded tightly across her chest, nipples taut against the matching silk fabric of her nightgown.

Holy shit, she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Fuck me. This was so messed up. She’d just been in bed with another man and—I could feel my fists tightening at my sides. I needed to stop thinking about that.

“What’s up?” I finally asked her.

She held up the whoopee cushion and smacked it down on the table. “Knox Madigan, what were you doing in my bed?”

I swallowed hard.

“I’m very thankful you watched the children tonight,” she continued, and then her chin wobbled, a dozen emotions crossing her face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, confused at the change in direction.

She sniffed, clearing her expression. “I’m sorry. It’s just my house is a mess, and I hardly get a full night’s sleep with Jackson still waking up in the middle of the night. The last thing I need is you messing around in my bed.”

I stepped closer, so close her chest, her tight nipples nearly touched me. I looked down at her, my jaw flexing. With tension. With desire. With everything I wanted to do to her and everything I hoped Bennett hadn’t gotten to do.

“Larkin,” I said, my voice rough. “Would that be so bad?”

Her eyes flared as she looked up at me, her delectable lips parted. “What are you saying?”

I reached up, cupping her loose and wild mane at the back of her neck. “I’m saying it was fucking torture to watch from this house, seeing him walk down your driveway. I’m saying I died a little inside when I watched him put his hand on your back, helping you into his truck. It was madness to watch you smile through his windshield as you drove away.” I gripped the back of her neck tighter, making her darting eyes stay on me. “I’m saying it gutted me to see you come here in your nightgown, face flushed, hair messy, knowing damn well it should have been me making you scream tonight.”

“Knox...” she gasped.

But I was a man possessed. Seeing her with him, knowing I could have missed my chance. I was done playing nice. Not when it was Larkin on the line.

I drew my face closer, breathing into her ear. “Tell me you don’t feel the same way. Tell me you don’t want me to touch you. Taste you. And we’ll pretend this never happened. We’ll act like you just came over here, got the kids, and went to bed. And we’ll never talk of this again.”

She shuddered under my breath, her chest arching until I could feel her hard nipples against my chest, through her nightgown, through the thin cotton of my T-shirt.

Her lips were centimeters from mine when a tired, raspy voice called from the living room.

“Knox?”