I was officially in trouble.
On my third bite, I began to gag. My tongue burned. I felt my brows furrowing.
I flinched.
Crap, I lost.
The lemon rolled from between my fingers, knocking Knight’s knee. He picked it up and threw it over the side of the water tower gate, into the abyss, offering me his hand. I took it, realizing I was shaking. My whole body trembled with adrenaline, anticipation, and the winter chill. He yanked me to sit in his lap, cupping one of my cheeks and looking into my eyes. The tension between us made my insides liquefy. Drowning in his gorgeous aquamarine eyes, I struggled to breathe.
“You didn’t let me win,” I whimpered, understanding for the first time the consequences, and what was about to happen.
We never backed down from bets. We always followed through when the other person challenged us.
“Why didn’t you let me win?”
“You’re equal to me—not the same Moonshine who left Todos Santos.” His warm, lemony breath tickled my cheek as he lowered his face to mine. “But whoever you are, I will crack you, too.”
His mouth slanted on mine, and our bodies molded into one. I deepened the kiss, sliding my tongue between his lips and letting our tongues play together, flicking his piercing and feeling his primal groan vibrate from his stomach and into mine. We kissed like starved, angry animals, with a passion that burned the sky above us.
His hand slid into my hoodie, cupped one of my breasts, and pinched my nipple. I moaned into his mouth. He did it again. The third time he did it, instead of releasing the pressure, he flipped my hoodie up and sucked my nipple into his mouth, keeping his eyes on mine as he grazed his straight teeth over it. I shuddered so violently, I thought I’d come from that simple touch alone.
It was freezing outside, but I was scorching hot, my blood rioting at an unnatural temperature. I let my head drop back, my entire body following suit, as I lay down, fumbling out of my jeans, kicking them off. Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to have him inside me. He chuckled at my eagerness.
“A bet is a bet,” I muttered.
Knight slid his index fingers to the sides of my underwear and took them off. I flushed even more, not knowing it to be possible.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I panted.
“Because,” he paused, swallowing, “I want to remember the moment you officially became mine.”
I was so dazed, I hadn’t even noticed he was naked at this point. Completely naked and fully sheathed. He must’ve put the condom on while kissing me into my mini-climax. I’d been rocking back and forth, chasing his touch.
His tan, strong body was like crushed silk wrapped over steel as we lay down on the rusty metal. Soft, light curls peppered his chest, and I ran my fingers through them, mesmerized. He took my wrist and lowered my hand to his penis, wrapping my fingers around the shaft.
“You’re mine,” he stated. “Always fucking have been, Luna. Say it.”
“I’ve only ever been yours, Knight.”
“The last year didn’t happen,” he choked on his words.
I nodded at first, accepting the denial. But then I stopped. I didn’t want to acknowledge some parts of it, either. But it had happened. It had happened, and yet we’d somehow still ended up here together.
“It did happen, though.”
“I know.”
With that, he eased into me, slowly, kissing my nose, my cheeks, my lips, my forehead. Even though I was wet and ready for him, it still hurt a little at first, but then he stopped, letting me stretch around his girth, before he began to make sweet, agonizing love to me. He moved in and out of me like he was giving me something so much greater than an orgasm. Slid into me to mark me. Agonizing, liquid heat began to gather under my navel, and my thighs trembled around his waist.
“Oh, Knight.” I ran my fingers through his hair. Why had I fought this all this time? Why had I rejected his advances when he was everything I ever wanted?
“I…I…”
I’m going to come so hard the entire state is going to know.
He shut me up with a dirty kiss full of tongue and stubble. He didn’t, I realized, want this connection we had diluted by words. We’d never needed words. Our relationship thrived, even when I’d given him no words at all.
This was really happening. I was having sex with Knight.
Knight Jameson Cole: Quarterback. Prom King. The best looking jackass in town.
But also, Knight Jameson Cole: Closeted alcoholic. Adopted son. Gentle soul. And the most pure-hearted man I’d ever known.
I started panting hard, burying my fingernails in the muscles of his shoulders. I knew I was going to scream, and there was no way to stop it. The orgasm was just too much. Too strong. Too full of emotions.