Read Knots for Free Online Page B

gonna get annoyed. Impossible.”
    “Why? Because you have such amazing control over your emotions? Pono used to tell me that . . .”
    “What did he say?” His head moved to get a better look at her.
    Her cheeks pinked. “Well, he said you were too rigid at times—like a robot.” She blushed a little on the apple of her cheeks.
    “Do you think a robot would let you snuggle in bed with him all night long?” he teased.
    “No,” she chirped and looked away.
    He laughed. “Okay, breakfast. Lighter conversation would probably be better as well.”
    “Control—it’s back,” she said.
    Was she mocking him?
    He smacked her right ass cheek and chuckled harder. “Breakfast—it’s important.”
    “Yes, Sir,” she said, sounding like she was taking military orders.
    Oh, fucking Christ. He was throbbing now. She had no idea what she’d just done to him.
    He swung himself out from under her and left the room in a rush.
    The second he was locked in the bathroom, he turned on his shower. And before he could even consider washing up, he had to stroke one out, imagining her saying those two words to him over and over again as he made love to her and showed her what she meant to him.
    When he was done cleaning up, he could hear the water running through the pipes in the wall. She was showering in her bathroom on the other side of the house.
    He got dressed, called in sick at work and made them breakfast.
    Twenty minutes later after the water had shut off in her bathroom, she still hadn’t emerged.
    He went after her even though he knew it was really early in the morning and most people weren’t as energetic as he was at this time of day.
    Rap, rap, rap.
    “Jean, you okay?” he asked through the door.
    “Fine.”
    “Fuck,” he growled to himself. There was that accursed word again. “Let me in so I can see for myself.”
    “No, really, I’m okay.”
    “Open the door,” he repeated, leaning into the door frame.
    The door opened, and her eyes were red-rimmed, her hair wet and a tangled mess, and once more, her nipples were poking through her shirt.
    Cold. Again.
    He could warm her up.
    Fuck, that would be bad.
    The only way he’d be able to control himself was if . . .
    “What can I do to help?” he asked softly.
    His hand reached out, and the backs of his fingers traced down her cheek, chasing after a tear.
    “Nothing.”
    “I can hold you—would that help?”
    She nodded, bit her upper lip and limped her way over to his waiting arms.
    “Did I make you cry somehow?”
    “No,” she said, her voice tight.
    “Liar. What did I do? Was it because I got out of bed and left abruptly?”
    “Why do you have to be so direct and ask me such piercing questions?” She smacked her hand on his chest and slid her forehead across his left pec.
    “Answer me first—what did I do?”
    “Yeah, I thought . . . Well, you took off, and I thought you regretted allowing me to sleep with you last night.” She gasped and covered her mouth again like she had earlier, then released it. “I didn’t mean, fuck—I mean, goddammit, it was—well, it was not like that . . . I meant sleeping, not sleeping with you . . .”
    He imagined her luminous eyes going wide in mortification. Once more, she made him smile.
    “It’s okay.” He pulled her back into a tight hug. “I knew what you meant, and you’re really cute when you get flustered.”
    “I am?”
    “You are.” He kissed the top of her head again.
    Fuck. He needed to be muzzled or some shit.
    His mouth was wet from her dripping hair.
    When she pulled away, giving him a weak smile, he wiped the back of his mouth.
    “Oh, shit! Sorry—I’m making a mess all over your pristine hardwood floors and getting you wet, too. I should’ve blown dry my hair.” She reached out and ran the pad of her thumb across his lips.
    Her touch, even as slight as it was, sent the majority of his heated, very male blood, directly to his dick, making him ache uncontrollably.
    His right eye