Page 30 of Knox

Or wonder if she was thinking about me too.

Chapter 11

Sloane

I woke to the scent of coffee and the distant slap of the sound through my open bedroom window. For a moment, I lay still, disoriented by the memories and sensations. My own bed. My own room. But the knowledge that Knox Hawthorne was somewhere in my house caused a flutter in my stomach.

I sat up, running my fingers through my tangled hair, and checked the clock on my nightstand. Seven-thirty. Later than I usually slept, but given that I’d barely closed my eyes before three in the morning, it made sense. Every time I’d started to drift off, my mind had replayed the attack. In the darkness and silence of my room, I’d felt the stranger’s angry hands on my body, the terror, and the struggle all over again.

Then I remembered Knox as my unexpected savior, and I could breathe.

Now he was padding around somewhere in my house.

What a difference a day could make.

I climbed out of bed and shuffled to my bathroom, splashing cold water on my face and studying my reflection. The bruises on my body had darkened overnight, purple and yellow marks in the unmistakable shape of fingers. I touched them gently, wincing at the tenderness.

I pulled on yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt before heading downstairs, following the coffee scent like a lifeline.

The intensely white kitchen was flooded with morning light. Knox stood at the island with his back to me, pouring coffee into two mugs. His hair was damp again from a shower, and he wore dark jeans with a gray henley that stretched across his shoulders in a way that made my mouth go dry.

“Good morning,” I said softly, not wanting to startle him.

Knox turned smoothly, and I realized he’d already known I was there. Hence the two mugs. His gaze tracked over my face, then dropped to my throat. He swallowed slowly, and I saw his frame stiffen.

“Morning.” He fixed a gentle expression on his handsome face and flicked his gaze in the direction of the mugs. “I took you up on your offer and helped myself to your kitchen.”

“Please. While we’re working together this is your home too. Roommates, remember?” I crossed to the island, grateful when he offered one of the mugs in my direction. I wrapped my hands around the warm ceramic, inhaling the rich aroma. “Have you been up long?”

“Since five.” Knox leaned against the counter, his coffee in one large hand. “I did a security sweep of the property. Checked all the entry points, reset the alarm, made sure the cameras were functioning properly.”

“Find anything concerning?”

“No. Everything looks good.” He took a sip of his drink, those blue eyes never leaving my face. “How’d you sleep?”

“Better than I expected.” It wasn’t entirely true, but I didn’t want to worry him. “You?”

“Fine.”

The single word was clipped, and I had the distinct impression he was lying too. Of course he was. He’d probably spent half the night walking the perimeter and the other half brainstorming ways to enhance security.

An awkward silence settled between us. I sipped my coffee and tried not to notice how domestic the moment felt. Standing in my kitchen in the morning light, sharing coffee with a man who’d spent the night across the hall. A man I barely knew but somehow trusted more than most of the people I’d known for years.

What was it that created this immediate connection to him? He’d saved me, yes, but I’d felt…something…the instant I’d walked into his mom’s shop and found him there. I’d been afraid then, too, however. Maybe it was a trick of my mind. Maybe it was his sudden appearance anytime I needed safety.

Maybe I should concentrate on our common goal.

“I brought a few of my mom’s notebooks from the shop,” Knox said.

Apparently, he was also a mind reader.

He motioned to the place where he’d stacked the books on the kitchen table. “Thought we could go through them over breakfast. If you’re up for it.”

“Absolutely.” I was grateful for the task, something to focus on besides the strange tension humming between us. “What do you want to eat? I can make omelets, or there’s yogurt and fruit, oatmeal, muffins, pancakes, pretty much whatever you can think of. I let Marissa know we won’t need her for a while, so she stocked us up. Her temporary leave is paid,” I said quickly. “I wasn’t trying to take her paycheck.”

“You were protecting her,” he said. “No reason to put anyone else in harm’s way if you think the man who attacked you might return.”

I nodded, nauseous at hearing the thoughts said aloud.