Page 102 of What We Burn

“Yes—Knox, fuck—don’t stop,” she begs, grinding down as I devour her, the taste of her flooding my senses. I want her desperate, shaking, reminded what it is to be wanted so badly no threat outside the alley can touch her.

She comes fast—she always does when she’s angry, like her whole body is one coiled wire ready to snap. I lap up every drop, hold her thighs steady, keep her grounded until the tremors pass. When I stand, she’s gripping my shoulders and panting, forehead pressed to my chest.

“You fucking asshole.”

I kiss the top of her head and smile.

“If anything ever happened to you . . . ” I don’t finish the sentence. Don’t need to.

She pulls back and looks up at me. Cups my face with both hands, thumbs brushing my jaw. Her eyes are soft in a way that makes my chest ache.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she says. Then she kisses me—hard, her tongue in my mouth, her hands in my hair. When she pulls back, she’s grinning.

“But for the record? I’m still mad at you. We’re absolutely going to have a conversation about boundaries. This”—she gestures between us—“does not count as resolution.”

“Understood.”

“I mean it, Knox.”

“I know you do.”

She holds the look one more beat, making sure it lands. Then she tugs her skirt down, smooths her hair, and squares her shoulders like she’s going back into battle instead of a diner.

“You gonna sit at the counter and glare at people for the rest of my shift?”

“Probably.”

“Order some food this time. You sitting there nursing a coffee makes you look like a stalker.”

Where you’re concerned? I am one.

“I’ll get a burger.”

“And pie.” She points at me. “Cherry. And you’ll eat every bite. You’ll tip thirty percent because I let you go down on me in an alley and that’s worth at least a generous gratuity.”

“I’ll take you shopping. You can use the card I gave you to buy anything you want.”

She looks up at me through her lashes. “I’ll hold you to that.”

I can’t help but smile.

She pushes through the back door without looking back. I wait a few beats, then follow, giving her time to reset her server smile.

She’s already behind the counter when I take a seat at the far end. Pink-cheeked, steady-handed, pouring coffee like the last ten minutes didn’t happen. The only tell is the way she touches the choker once, quick, like she’s checking it’s still there. Jamie’s at the register, paying out. He lifts a hand at me on his way past. I nod back.

I order the pie. I text Milo.

Me:

Handled. Stand down.

Milo:

I noticed.

Got an ID match on the guy. No one of interest.

You good?