Chapter 99 KNOX

Chapter 99 KNOX
I made it halfway down the stairs before the universe decided I hadn’t suffered enough.

The parking spot where I’d left the Porsche was still occupied by the Porsche. Technically. The body was there. The windows were there.

The expensive custom rims I liked more than I would ever admit out loud were gone. In their place sat four sad, naked hubs resting on the asphalt like the car had been rolled in its sleep.

I stopped on the last step and stared.
“What the fuck.”

Rain started before I could even pull my phone out—light at first, then suddenly committed, cold drops hitting the back of my neck as I walked a slow circle around the car.

No glass broken. No alarm triggered that I’d heard. Just four missing tires and a night that clearly wasn’t done with me.

I called Hunter.
It rang out.
I called Slate.
Same result.

I tried Hunter again, then the group chat, then Slate one more time for pure spite. Nothing.

The two people who were supposed to be my emergency backup were either dead, unconscious, or—more likely—still icing their balls and ignoring the world on purpose.

The rain picked up, and my shirt was already sticking to my shoulders. I shoved my hands in my pockets, and walked back the way I’d come, water dripping off my hair by the time I reached their building again.
I knocked.

Katy opened the door, took one look at me, and raised both eyebrows.

“Didn’t we just get rid of you?”

“Someone stole my tires.”

Behind her, Piper appeared, arms already crossed. “All four?”

“All four.”

“That’s commitment,” Katy muttered. Then she tilted her head, pure sarcasm.

“I mean, you brought a Porsche into this neighborhood and just… left it. No surprises, honestly. I’m only shocked they didn’t take the whole car.”

I stepped inside before they could close the door in my face. Water pooled under my shoes on their mat.

“Hunter and Slate aren’t picking up. I’ve got no ride, it’s pouring, and the car is currently a very expensive paperweight.”

Piper’s eyes narrowed. “Are the taxis on strike too?”

I didn’t answer.

The silence stretched. Lightning flashed outside the window, followed almost immediately by a crack of thunder that made the lights flicker.

Both girls looked at each other. Some long, wordless best-friend conversation happened in the span of two seconds.

Katy sighed first. Piper followed, the sound deeply put-upon.

“Fine,” Piper said. “Couch. One night. The bedrooms are off-limits. You so much as look at a hallway like you’re considering it and I will end you with a kitchen utensil of my choice.”

I raised both hands in surrender. “Couch. No bedrooms. Got it.”

Piper pointed at me like she was still deciding whether this was a trap.

“This doesn’t make us friends. This makes us people who don’t want a drowned playboy on their conscience.”

“Wouldn’t dream of calling us friends.”

I accepted the towel Katy threw at my head, and sat on the edge of their couch while thunder rolled over the building again.

No tires. No friends answering the phone. Rain still coming down like it had a personal grudge.

And three women on the other side of the room who trusted me about as far as they could throw the coffee table.

Perfect.



I shifted for what felt like the hundredth time, one arm hanging off the edge, knees bent because the thing had clearly been designed for people who peaked at five-foot-eight.

My feet hung off the armrest. My shoulders refused to fit between the cushions no matter how I angled them.

I’d stripped down to boxers an hour ago. Shirt and jeans were draped over a chair, still damp from the rain.

Sleeping naked was my usual preference, but the mental image of Piper appearing in the doorway with a knee already loaded and aimed kept the fabric on. Hunter and Slate were cautionary tales. I wasn’t eager to join the club.

I closed my eyes and tried to convince my body that horizontal-ish was good enough.
A soft click sounded from the hallway.
My eyes opened.

One of the bedroom doors eased open. Juniper stepped out, barefoot, wearing what looked like one of friend’s T-shirts that hit her mid-thigh. Her hair was a disaster.

Her eyes were only half open. She moved like someone operating on a three-second delay from the rest of the world.

She stopped in the middle of the living room and stared at the couch, the coffee table, the window, like she was trying to solve a puzzle that kept changing shape.

“My house looks different,” she mumbled to herself.

“Did I redecorate? I don’t remember redecorating. That’s a big decision. I should’ve been consulted.”

She took another step, still talking under her breath.

I sat up slowly, watching her weave between the coffee table and the armchair with the focused determination of someone who believed she was going somewhere important.

“Speckles.” She didn’t hear me

The floorboards creaked beneath her bare feet as she swayed toward me.
Her eyes, glassy and unfocused.

One misstep sent her stumbling forward, and she collided with me, catching herself against my chest as her lips brushed my shoulder.

A groan escaped me. “Speckles.”

Her head lifted slowly. A lazy, drunken smile spread across her face.

“Knoxy. What are you doing on my couch?”

I stared at her. She thinks this is her house.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep Speckles?” I asked instead.

“I was.” Her brow furrowed as she tried to gather the scattered pieces of her thoughts.

“I definitely was. Very asleep. Excellent sleeping, actually.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“But then…” She paused, squinting at me, as if the answer might be written on my face. “Something happened.”

“What happened?”

“I remembered something.”

“What?”

She blinked. “I don’t know.”

“You woke up because you remembered something you can’t remember?”

“Yes.” She nodded, apparently satisfied with that explanation. “That’s why it’s important.”

“That makes absolutely no sense.”

“Lots of important things don’t.”

She swayed again, and I caught her by the waist before she could tip sideways.

Her eyes slowly found mine.
“Do you know...”

“What?”

“You have really nice eyes.”

I frowned.
“Very nice.” She leaned closer, studying me with exaggerated concentration. “Like…. Dream nice.”

“Dream nice?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, completely certain. “Because this is obviously a dream. Duh.”

I almost laughed. “Dream?”

She gave me a look like I was the stupidest person she'd ever encountered.

“Knox Reyes is sleeping on my couch.” She waved vaguely at me. “Looking all… Knoxy Reyes-y. Being handsome and stuff. That doesn't happen in real life.”

“Apparently not.”

“Exactly.” She smiled triumphantly. “See? You understand dream logic.”

“Speckles —”

“And you smell really nice.”

Her voice dropped into a soft, dreamy mumble as she leaned closer.
I swallowed. She smiled sleepily.

“This is definitely a dream. Although…”

“Although what?”

"If you’re a dream, you’re a very detailed one. Like… unnecessarily high definition. 4K. Maybe even 8K."

Then her lips traced a path from my shoulder to my neck, then she sucked on my suddenly feverish flesh, finding a sweet spot that sent a jolt of heat straight to my groin. Jesus.

"W-what are you doing?" My voice came out rougher than intended.

My cock shouldn't be reacting like this—she's my fake girlfriend, and I'd never take advantage of her, but damn if that means I'm immune to arousal.

And holy hell, there was no word for how aroused I was as her mouth explored my neck like she was sampling a damn buffet.

“Why are you wet?” she murmured, then, before I could answer, she leaned in and licked my skin.
I sucked in a breath.

“Doesn’t matter,” she decided, blinking slowly. “I’m thirsty.”

I smothered another groan, touching her shoulder to still her.

"Speckles, snap out of it. You're drunk. You want water? I'll get you some."

"Nuh-uh..."

The groan I'd been holding rumbled out as she climbed on top of me. Her firm thighs straddled mine.

Her hair tickled my collarbone as she leaned forward. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

Then she kissed me. Oh hell. I should stop her. I really, really should.

But she was warm and soft and smelled so damn good I couldn't think straight. Her mouth moved eagerly over mine, and I kissed her back hungrily, wrapping my arms around her and stroking her lower back as our lips molded together.

She tasted like wine and desperation, and she made the sexiest sounds I'd ever heard as she took deep pulls on my tongue like she couldn't get enough.

"Speckles," I mumbled against her eager lips. "We can't."

She licked my bottom lip, then bit it hard enough to summon a growl from my throat.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I needed to derail this lust train before it hurtled past the point of no return.

"I love your chest," she breathed, and holy hell, now she was rubbing her breasts against my pecs and I could feel her nipples poking right through her shirt.

I wanted to rip that fucking shirt off. I wanted to draw those puckered nipples deep into my mouth and suck. But I couldn't. I wouldn't.

"No." I thrust my hand in her hair and bunched it between my fingers. "We can't do this. Not tonight."

She looked at me, confused. "You're just a dream. Stop talking back. I'm in charge in this dream."

Fuck. She was drunk and I couldn't let her do this. Her tongue circled my earlobe and my hips shot off the couch. Oh Jesus. I wanted to be inside her.

It took every ounce of self-control I had to ease her off me. She let out a soft, sleepy whimper in protest, her fingers instinctively catching at my shirt as though she couldn't understand why I was moving away.

Then I brushed my thumb gently over her cheek.

“We can’t,” I said roughly, forcing myself to put distance between us. “Not like this.”

She blinked up at me.
“You told me you trusted me, remember?”

Her eyes fluttered.

“Well, this is me keeping that trust. Even when you’re too drunk to remember tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Then she simply snuggles against my body and rests her head on my chest
“Okay. Good night.”

Okay?
Good night?

Does she actually think I’ll be able to sleep after what just happened? But she’s not thinking at all.

Two seconds later her breathing evened out. Soft. Steady. Completely gone again.

I stared at the ceiling, one arm trapped under her, the other hovering uselessly in the air, and accepted that sleep had officially left the building.

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