Page 112 of Knox

I’m a carbon copy of my father when he was my age.

“You’re a Harrington-Hale through and through,” Knox continues. “The results from the test proved it.”

“And because they couldn’t take my title legally…”

“They have to kill you.”

“Shit…”

“I’m sorry, Cil.” Knox leans forward and presses a kiss to my forehead.

I close my eyes, leaning into his warmth and—oh, my God…

I can’t believe I’m relieved that this is just about someone trying to chop me up, and not about Knox breaking off what’s happening between us.

What the fuck, Cillian?!

Priorities, man…

Although, this feels really good.

“Knox… is this why you’ve been acting off since we got back from our walk?”

“Yes. I got a text from Alexios while you were grabbing your clothes at the lake. I didn’t know how to break it to you… I was dreading this conversation with you.”

“I thought you were going to tell me we had to stop this,” I say, gesturing between the two of us.

Knox’s eyes widen in shock. “Before we leave the cabin? Not a fucking chance.”

He reaches down, sliding his hands under my arms, and hoists me right onto his lap until I’m straddling his thighs.

“So… I can keep touching you?” I whisper, sliding my palms up his shoulders. “Until we leave, I mean?”

“Yes, please.”

He pulls me in, and his mouth finds mine.

Unlike every kiss we’ve shared so far, where we burst into flames the second our lips touch, this one is soft and sweet.

It’s just as consuming and mind-blowing as everything else with Knox, only this time it isn’t just my body reacting.

It’s my whole soul.

We taste each other, moving together in a way that feels both familiar and new.

He kisses my mouth, my cheek, and then the center of my forehead. “Feeling better?”

“Much better.”

“Good,” Knox says, wrapping his arms around my back and shifting his weight until we fall sideways onto the couch together. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“You should be. I’m going to charge you a lot for the emotional trauma.”

“Happy to settle my debts,” he chuckles, and I can feel the tension drain out of him.

Thank God.

“So…” I trace a finger over his chest. “In your professional opinion, do you think this stalker situation and the DNA test are all about the money?”