Chapter 33 CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 33
YAEL
If embarrassment could kill, I’d be six feet under by now.
I came out of the bathroom, towel drying my hair, ready to pretend that nothing happened between Knox and me earlier—that we didn’t almost set my table on fire with how close we got. But of course, of course, he had to be holding it.
That small pink thing. In his hand. Like he just discovered the holy grail.
“Knox!” I froze halfway through the doorway. My voice cracked like glass.
He turned around slowly, eyes glinting with absolute menace. “So… this is yours?” His tone was lazy, amused, and the way he tilted his head told me he knew exactly what it was.
“Put that down!” I lunged forward, face burning, snatching at the air. He moved it higher. “Knox, I’m serious!”
“Relax, I’m not judging,” he said, smirking. “I just didn’t think you’d own—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!”
He laughed, a deep, throaty sound that made my stomach twist. “Why? It’s a compliment. You’re full of surprises, Yael.”
I groaned, covering my face. “This is not happening. This is not happening.”
“Oh, it’s definitely happening,” he said, waving the thing teasingly like a trophy.
“Give. It. Back.”
He took a step closer. I took one back. My heel caught on the rug, and before I knew it, I stumbled forward, colliding into his chest. His arm shot around me instinctively, and the stupid toy went flying—landing somewhere on the bed with a soft thud.
For one wild second, I was pressed against him, heart hammering, his breath brushing my ear.
“See?” he murmured. “You just had to ask nicely.”
“You’re impossible.”
He grinned. “You’ve said that before.”
I pushed at his chest. “Move.”
“Make me.”
And that—God help me—was where everything snapped. I shoved him harder, but he caught my wrists mid-air. I gasped as he turned us around so fast that we fell onto the bed, the mattress bouncing beneath us.
My back hit the sheets, his weight caging me in. Our eyes locked, breaths uneven.
“This is—this is so stupid,” I stammered.
“Yeah?” His voice dropped, dangerously low. “Then why aren’t you telling me to move?”
Because I didn’t want to. Because my brain had left the chat the moment his fingers brushed mine.
“Knox…”
He leaned down, lips hovering above mine. “Say the word and I’ll stop.”
The room spun. His scent—clean soap, rain, something I’d never name—wrapped around me like a dare.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I whispered.
Then he kissed me.
Soft at first. Testing. Then deeper, hungrier. His hand slid up my neck, tilting my chin as his mouth moved against mine like he’d been holding back for weeks. My fingers fisted his shirt—no, his skin—because at some point, I realized he wasn’t wearing any.
Every thought I had scattered like dust.
I kissed him back, because self-control clearly didn’t exist anymore. And for a second, maybe for several, there was only the sound of our hearts beating way too fast.
He broke the kiss first, his forehead resting against mine. His breathing was rough, his eyes darker than I’d ever seen them.
“If we don’t stop now,” he muttered, “I won’t.”
That one sentence hit me harder than the kiss.
My chest rose and fell. “Then stop.”
He did. Immediately. Like I’d flipped a switch inside him. He rolled off me, lying beside me for a moment in silence. The air was thick, charged, but neither of us said anything.
I stared at the ceiling, still catching my breath, my lips tingling, my mind a mess of what-ifs.
Finally, he stood, running a hand through his hair. “You should sleep.”
I turned my head toward him. “You’re just going to leave?”
“I have to,” he said quietly. “If I stay, I’ll forget every reason I shouldn’t touch you again.”
I bit my lip, pulse still racing. “You’re making this way too dramatic.”
He gave a short laugh. “You’re the one shaking.”
I looked down—and sure enough, my hands were trembling. “That’s not your fault.”
“Right.” His tone said otherwise.
He found his shirt, pulled it over his head, and looked at me once more. “Lock the door, Yael.”
I swallowed. “Why?”
He smiled faintly, that infuriating curve of his mouth that could melt steel. “Because if I change my mind halfway down the hall, I don’t want to make it too easy.”
My heart did an Olympic-level flip as he turned and walked out. The door shut softly behind him.
The room felt too quiet, too heavy. I sat there for a long moment, staring at the door, before I spotted the reason this whole disaster started in the first place.
That stupid pink thing, lying half-hidden under a pillow.
I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “I hate my life.”
Outside, I heard the faint click of his door closing next door, followed by silence. But my mind wouldn’t stop replaying the way he looked at me. Like he wanted to memorize me.
I fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling again. “You’re so doo
med, Yael.”
Because no matter how many times I told myself to stay away, I knew—I was already halfway gone.