Page 32 of What Comes Around

He stood there with his tie gone, shirt open at the collar, sleeves rolled back over strong forearms dusted with dark hair. My favorite kind of arms. My brain supplied that thought unhelpfully.

His eyes moved over me, slow and assessing. I suddenly became acutely aware of my sweats, my flushed face, my messy hair, the loose tendrils around my face. He had never seen me like this.

Heat crept up my neck. I hid one hand behind my back, irrationally wondering if he could smell me.

His gaze sharpened, shifting past me as he took in the room beyond my shoulder. Then he stepped inside, brushing lightly past me with a quiet comment about needing the bathroom.

I closed the door behind him, still standing where I was, a little confused.

A moment passed.

Then another.

I never heard the toilet.

When he came back out a couple of minutes later, he paused in the center of the room, his gaze moving slowly across the space. Then he crouched, reaching down to adjust his shoe. For a moment I could have sworn his eyes flicked toward the shadow beneath the bed.

Then he straightened and turned toward the door.

I was still too foggy to process any of it. My eyes followed him automatically.

Then I realized his attention wasn’t on my face.

It was on my chest.

I looked down and saw that the hoodie had slipped off one shoulder, the thin white tank top stretched enough to reveal the outline of my pierced nipple beneath it.

I pulled the hoodie back into place.

When I looked up again, his pupils were dark.

“What did you want to talk about?” I asked.

“I heard a noise,” he said quietly. “I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“Oh,” I said. “Okay.”

He hesitated for a fraction of a second.

“Goodnight, Ashley.”

Then he turned and left.

I closed the door behind him and bit my lip, a slow, shameless smile spreading across my face.

Unexpected.

But this had gone better than I ever could have imagined.

Chapter 11: Knox Sinclair Was Not in the Mood

The next morning, I showered, dressed, applied my makeup, and twisted my hair into another neat updo.

We met in Knox’s suite for breakfast. His was noticeably larger than the rest of ours. A long dining table had already been set with trays of breakfast, coffee, and neatly arranged plates. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the Strip in soft morning light.

Ethan, Julian, and Marcus were already seated. Knox stood near the window with his phone in hand.

He looked up when I entered.