Chapter 24 CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 24
YAEL
If I had known debate practice would feel like this, I’d have faked a fever.
The committee room was quiet except for the tapping of my pen and Knox’s lazy humming beside me. He was leaning back in his chair, hoodie half-zipped, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His forearms flexed every time he scrolled through the slides, and it was a problem. My problem.
“Focus, Yael,” I muttered under my breath.
“Talking to yourself now?” he asked, voice deep and lazy. “That’s cute.”
“Talking to you was clearly a mistake.”
He chuckled, low and dangerous. “You say that every time. Yet here you are, again.”
“Because we’re partners.”
He gave me a half-smile, all teasing edges. “Keep telling yourself that.”
I ignore him and fix the projector settings, pretending his presence didn’t make every coherent thought flee my brain. We’d been practicing rebuttals for over an hour, but all I could think about was the way he looked under the fluorescent lights — like trouble with a pulse.
“Your argument’s too safe,” Knox said suddenly.
“Safe wins debates,” I replied, typing furiously.
He smirked. “Safe’s boring.”
“Boring gets trophies.”
He leaned in, voice a whisper. “And yet you don’t like boring anywhere else, do you?”
My head snapped toward him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
His lips curved. “You like challenges. I can see it. You don’t want easy. You want someone who fights back.”
I scoffed. “You think that’s you?”
“I know it’s me.”
My chest tightened, and I hated that he might be right. “You’re delusional.”
He grinned, like I’d just proven his point. “Delusional looks good on me though.”
I threw my pen at him. He caught it effortlessly.
“Wow,” he said, twirling it between his fingers. “Angry and accurate.”
“You’re impossible.”
He shrugged. “And yet you’re smiling again.”
“Because I’m imagining choking you.”
He laughed, rich and unbothered. “Kinky.”
I groaned and buried my face in my notebook. “Why are you like this?”
“Because it makes you blush every time.”
My head snapped up. “It does not.”
“Oh, it does,” he said softly, eyes holding mine. “You just don’t know how to hide it.”
And for a second—just a second—the teasing faded. He wasn’t smirking anymore. His eyes darkened, gaze dropping to my mouth before flicking back up.
I swallowed hard, feeling my pulse hammer at the base of my throat. “You’re supposed to be helping me practice, not—whatever this is.”
“This is practice,” he murmured. “For when I finally stop pretending.”
“What—”
Before I could finish, I realized my lipgloss had worn off, and my lips felt dry. Perfect timing, right?
“Fine,” I muttered, rummaging through my bag. “You’re distracting. I need a break.”
“Distracting?” His tone was amused. “In what way?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
He leaned closer, chin resting on his hand. “Too late.”
I rolled my eyes, finding my lipgloss — a sleek tube of gloss with a faint shimmer. I uncapped it, ignoring the way his gaze followed every movement.
“What are you doing?” he asked, voice lower now.
“Reapplying. My lips are dry.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I can see that.”
I paused mid-motion, giving him a wary look. “You’re being weird.”
“I’m being honest.”
“About what?”
“About how unfair it is,” he murmured, leaning back in his chair, eyes never leaving my mouth. “That you can sit there, looking like that, and expect me to focus on a damn speech.”
My throat went dry. “Knox.”
“Hmm?”
“This is supposed to be academic.”
He chuckled darkly. “There’s nothing academic about the thoughts in my head right now.”
I blinked. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe.”
I tried to ignore him, unscrewing the cap again. “You know what? I’m just—”
But as soon as I started gliding the wand across my lips, everything shifted. His teasing expression changed — his eyes darkened, jaw clenched, shoulders tensed like something inside him snapped.
I could feel it — the way the air thickened, the way he stopped breathing.
“What?” I whispered, suddenly aware of the silence.
He didn’t answer.
He just stood — slow, deliberate, each step making my heart pound harder.
“Knox?”
He stopped right in front of me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him. His hand came up, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, do you?”
“I was just putting on lipgloss,” I said weakly.
His voice dropped to a growl. “Exactly.”
And then — he kissed me.
No hesitation. No warning. Just his mouth crashing onto mine like he’d run out of restraint.
It wasn’t gentle. It was desperate. Rough. Everything I didn’t know I’d been waiting for.
His hands cupped my face, thumbs stroking my jaw as his lips moved against mine — deep, consuming, addictive. I gasped against his mouth, and he groaned, kissing me harder.
I tried to think. To pull away. To remind him that we were in a university room, that this was insane. But when he tilted my chin and deepened the kiss, all reason disappeared.
My hands grabbed his hoodie before I could stop myself, pulling him closer.
He tasted like mint. Like everything I shouldn’t want but did anyway.
When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged. His forehead rested against mine.
“Knox…” I whispered, my lips still tingling.
“Don’t say it,” he murmured. “Don’t ruin it yet.”
I looked up at him, heart hammering. “We can’t—”
He smiled, slow and wicked. “You started it.”
“I put on lipgloss.”
“And I lost control.”