The Outsider: Hard Knox Part 11

"It wasn't meant to be funny. It was meant to be ironic. But you still haven't answered my question-what changed?" When the only reply I got was another shake of his head as the truck flew down the road, I did something that probably wouldn't be considered smart by nine out of ten safety-conscious drivers: I pounded my foot down on the brake. The truck came to a screeching halt. Thank G.o.d for properly adjusted lap belts.

"f.u.c.k, Charlie!" Knox hollered, looking at me like I'd lost my mind.

"What. Changed?" I asked in a voice that was as calm as his wasn't.

"Take your foot off the brake," Knox demanded, although he did nothing to move it away.

Thankfully, there were no other cars out this late at night. Otherwise we would have been getting our share of honks and birds for blocking the road.

"I'll take my foot off the brake when you tell me what changed. Why are you dragging me to the hospital instead of making sure it's what I want?" I twisted to look at him, but he kept his eyes on the road.

"I could force your foot off of that pedal, you know. It would be as easy as lifting my pinkie." His jaw was rigid, his whole face creased in frustration.

"Then why don't you do it? Since you're forcing me to go to the hospital, why don't you force my foot off of the brake as well? Make it a trend." My body still felt weak, but my mind had pushed away most of the haze. I would keep battling him until I couldn't hold the haze off any longer.

"I'm not going to force your foot off of the brake. You want to keep it there, keep it there, but don't make me out to be some kind of animal operating off of instinct and impulse."

"Then stop acting like one." I leaned closer to him, but he still wouldn't look at me. "You won't force my foot off the brake, so why are you forcing me to go to the hospital?"

He glared out the windshield and ground his jaw tighter, looking one flex away from ripping the steering wheel out of the dash. "Because I'm worried about you. That's why."

I whipped my head from side to side. "So you weren't worried last week? Not buying it. You want to try again? Maybe go with the honest answer this time?" I was quiet for a while. I got to ten before losing my patience. "Waiting, Knox. And still waiting."

His head whipped toward me, his body angling at the same time. His expression was so torn, I couldn't decide if I wanted to scoot farther away or closer.

"You want to know what's changed?" He didn't wait for my answer. "Last week, you were just some girl who needed someone to step in and help her. Last week I didn't know you. But now-" His mouth clamped shut. Punching the steering wheel, he let out a frustrated growl.

"But now what?" I asked gently. "What's changed?"

His shoulders fell when he exhaled. "But now I care. Instead of being just some girl, you're some girl I care about." His fist hadn't stopped pounding the steering wheel. "Right now, me caring about you has got me so f.u.c.king scared of what's going to happen to you, I'm about to throw you over my shoulder and run you to the hospital whether you want to go or not." His eyes lifted to mine. Somehow, they were more tortured than his expression. "What's changed is that I care about you."

It seemed to take me as long to process what he'd said as it had taken him to admit it. Knox Jagger cared about me? In what alternate reality could that happen? Up until recently, I'd been convinced the only care Knox had for a woman was for what resided between her legs . . . But maybe I'd been buying into the dreaded rumor mill I'd always promised myself I'd steer clear of.

"You . . .?" Even I couldn't say the words. That's how difficult they were.

His fingers curled around the steering wheel. "Are you going to make me say it again? Because it was hard enough the first time."

I bit my lip, trying to sort through a mountain of confusion. "You . . . care . . . about me?"

Knox looked almost ashamed. "More than I should, but still less than you deserve."

Swinging my leg over his lap, I somehow managed to wrangle around the steering wheel. My free arm wound around him at the same time my mouth crushed into his. That kiss may have been attributable to the drugs, but I didn't feel like some foreign substance was forcing my hand. Instead, it felt like desire and attraction and those raw instincts and impulses I'd just accused Knox of employing.

For the shortest moment, Knox seemed frozen in surprise. As soon as that pa.s.sed, he kissed me back with just as much force, his hand exploring my body like mine was his. I'd kissed plenty of guys, but I'd never been kissed like I was now. I'd never kissed the way I was now. It was almost like the world was shrinking around us-shrinking until it felt like it could barely contain us.

And the way his touch felt? It awakened every emotion and desire and want inside me that I'd never known I had. One moment his forearm was pressed hard into my back, cradling me close to him and making me realize I'd never felt truly safe until now, and the next moment, his hand was splayed against my lower back, and I felt like I was about to drown in my own need and want. Knox Jagger was consuming me, one kiss at a time, one touch at a time. Moment after moment, more of me belonged to him.

My wrist being handcuffed to his was making me insane. I wanted it to be free to explore with as much freedom as my other hand was, but it was trapped within a circle of metal. That didn't stop me from trying to pull it free though. I felt close to rubbing the skin around my wrist raw, but if I could just slip it free . . . I could almost feel the cuff starting to give, so I gave it a hard yank. Followed by a sharp cry of pain. Handcuffs weren't so easily slipped free of-probably why cops were such fans of them.

Knox's hand reached for mine, his fingers tangling through mine to keep them still. My fight with the cuff ended. My hand was content where it was. Shifting above him, I felt something pressed against my lap, and whatever sc.r.a.p of reason I may have held onto left my body. Bye-bye, better judgment. So long, rational thinking. It's been nice knowing you, caution, but get lost already.

My hand had somehow worked its way beneath Knox's shirt and was gripping the ridge running up the center of his back. Slipping around his side, my fingers worked over the b.u.t.ton of his jeans. Almost right away, Knox's hand untangled from my hair to work on the b.u.t.ton of mine. It was clear from his speed and ease of motion that he'd freed plenty of girls from their jeans one-handed, but I was far less experienced. I was still fumbling with his d.a.m.n b.u.t.ton when his finger slipped inside my jeans, skimming the material of my underwear.

His finger pressing me in just the right place made me jolt against the steering wheel. When my back bowed, my head fell back with it. With my mouth no longer joined to Knox's, I went to move back. Then his finger moved again, and movement became impossible. Breathing was barely possible.

If Knox's finger trailing along my underwear wasn't enough, he started to kiss my neck like he'd just kissed my mouth. I was breathing so hard that I could feel my chest rising and falling, as high as the sky and back down to the earth. My hand that had just been fumbling with his b.u.t.ton was pressed into the back of his neck.

Knox's mouth and finger started to slow. Oh, G.o.d. If he slowed down, I wasn't sure I could handle it-not when I was so close to feeling the whole world fall apart beneath me.

Moving my hand to his chest, I shoved him back against the seat hard, and I crashed back down on his lap. A rush of air escaped his mouth from the impact, and another followed when my fingers finally managed to free his jeans' b.u.t.ton. I was just lowering his zipper when everything changed.

Knox's whole body froze, along with his expression. His hand grabbed mine and pulled it away from his lap. "f.u.c.k." He panted, his breath racing.

My breath was racing too, my heart even faster, and my whole body felt numb. "Again with the cursing one-word sentences."

I wanted to pull him back to me. I wanted him to pull me back to him, but I could tell from the look on his face that he was not in a picking-up-where-we-left-off mood. Now that some of the heat of the moment was dimming, reason and judgment were slowly making their return. Had I just been making out with Knox Jagger? Had he just had his hands on every single part of my body? Had we just been about to have s.e.x? Holy WTF moment.

"f.u.c.king h.e.l.l," he edited, lifting a brow. "That better?" His breathing was still labored, and a sheen of sweat coated his face, but he was recovering far faster than I was.

"Better in terms of sentence structure, but not in terms of clarification." At the end of that sentence, I had to take a few deep breaths. Every word felt like running a six-minute mile. "Did you mean that as in, f.u.c.king h.e.l.l, that was amazing, or f.u.c.king h.e.l.l, what are we doing, or f.u.c.king h.e.l.l, I forgot a condom, or f.u.c.king h.e.l.l, you're a tomcat?" I had to take another minute to breathe. "You can't just freeze up on a girl, cry f.u.c.king h.e.l.l, and not expand on it."

Knox had already refastened the b.u.t.ton on his jeans and was breathing normally. He wiped his face with his hand, keeping his eyes clamped shut. "You've got a drug a.s.sociated with date rape in your system. It's messing with your mind and your . . . impulses and inhibitions. It's making you feel things you wouldn't under normal circ.u.mstances. It's making you do things you'd be mortified to even think of doing tomorrow. This isn't who you really are. When I said 'f.u.c.king h.e.l.l,' I meant 'f.u.c.king h.e.l.l, I need to stop before I become that guy who takes advantage of a girl messed up on roofies.'"

I found myself glaring at him-not because I was angry, but because I was hurt and glaring seemed like the better option than crying. "Don't you a.s.sume to tell me what I would or wouldn't feel under normal circ.u.mstances. Don't even think about telling me what would or wouldn't mortify me come tomorrow. Don't tell me it's the minuscule amount of some vile drug that's making me some other person."

He still wouldn't look at me, and that was the most painful part. After what we'd just done and been about to do, he should have at least had the courage to look me in the eyes.

"You're going to tell me that earlier tonight, you were thinking about, or open to the possibility, of fooling around with me? The guy you think is a man wh.o.r.e is the one you've been fantasizing about getting busy with? Please." He shook his head. "Don't treat me like an idiot. I know the rumor is I am one and all, but it's wrong."

From one kind of heat to another kind. It seemed like all powerful emotions were made of heat, ranging from a smolder to a blaze. I was sure I'd never felt so much heat-all of the kinds-for a person before Knox Jagger. "Stop a.s.suming you know what I think, you egotistical omniscient-acting a.s.shole!"

I was tempted to slap him, so instead I busied my hand trying to re-b.u.t.ton my jeans. After a few seconds of messing with it to no avail, Knox's fingers shoved mine aside and had it fastened in one smooth motion-which only served to fuel my blaze of anger.

"So you think I'm a man wh.o.r.e, an idiot, and an egotistical, omniscient-acting a.s.shole? I'm one worthless piece of s.h.i.t then."

"I think you're one of those things. The other two you put in my mouth."

When I moved to slide off of his lap, he gripped my hip and helped with the job. He was able to manipulate my body with one hand. It wasn't the first time I'd realized how powerless I was against Knox Jagger, but it was the first time it had frightened me. I wasn't scared he'd hurt me physically, but the more damaging ways could leave a person permanently scarred.

"So all I am is an egotistical, omniscient-acting a.s.shole to you?" Knox adjusted the cuffs once I was back in place beside him.

From the looks of it, my wrist was rubbed raw . . . but it looked like his wrist was in even worse shape. "And a jerk," I added, crossing my free arm over my stomach.

"Well, that one isn't a rumor at least. That one's the truth." Knox's hand returned to the steering wheel as he gave the truck some gas.

I'd completely forgotten about being stopped in the middle of the road. The windows had become so fogged up, he had to crank down his window and wipe the windshield with his forearm. At least his eyes were open now. His jaw was so clenched, I wondered if it was close to snapping. After a few blocks with nothing but the sound of his truck, I decided to restart the conversation.

"What we did wasn't wrong, Knox. What we were about to do wouldn't have been wrong. It wasn't like you were the one who slipped me that pill." As I said the words, I realized I was rea.s.suring myself as much as I was him. I had some kind of animal attraction toward Knox, but I had no idea what other kinds of attractions I either did or could have for him. If I knew anything, it was that I wouldn't be able to figure that out in the span of one truck ride.

"There's no difference between me and the jacka.s.s who dropped that into your water."

My eyebrows knitted together. "In what reality do you live where you believe you're as bad as the person who slipped an illegal substance into my drink in hopes he'd get to f.u.c.k a comatose Charlie Chase?"

Knox slammed the brakes as the light in front of us turned red. His arm broke out in front of me, keeping me from jetting into the dashboard. And that's why seatbelts are a good idea.

"I might not have put it in your drink, but I was taking advantage of the effects." He looked like he had more to say, but instead, he clamped his mouth shut and banged the steering wheel a few times with his palm. It was a miracle he hadn't broken the thing by now.

"The effects of what? Me feeling a little sleepy? We're college students. If we're not in a perpetual state of exhaustion, we're not doing it right." He grunted his disagreement, making me grunt my frustration. "And would you quit with the I'm-an-opportunistic-b.a.s.t.a.r.d-who-takes-advantage-of-incapacitated-woman act? In case you've already forgotten, I was the one who made the first move when I catapulted into your lap."

We were cruising down a quiet road at close to fifty miles per hour, although I was pretty sure the last speed limit sign had read thirty. I had no idea where we were going or if we were going anywhere in particular, but as angry as I was with him, I still felt safe-protected. Maybe that was what Caesar had thought before being stabbed in the back by his pal Brutus, but it was what I felt.

"Can we just not talk about this anymore tonight?" Knox asked, his voice quiet. "Tonight's been a crazy night. I'm amped up, and you're drugged-"

"Partially drugged." With the anger and frustration and l.u.s.t draining from my veins, the exhaustion was coming back in full force.

"Let's just get some sleep tonight. We can talk about everything in the morning, if you still want to."

"If I still want to?" I repeated, aghast. "Why in the world would I not want to talk in the morning about what happened tonight?"

Knox's knuckles whitening around the steering wheel said volumes. "Because in the morning, when your mind clears, you're going to feel awkward and ashamed and realize it was all some giant mistake. You're going to come to the decision that fooling around with me is not something you want to talk about over coffee."

My anger switch fired, but nothing came on. I felt it stirring, but the haze was too thick for it to cut through. Instead of yelling at him like I wanted to, I yawned. "Fine. Let's not talk anymore tonight. But here's a warning-if you're still telling me how I feel come manana, I'm going to punch you." I paused, remembering the scene in the staircase. "Again. Harder. So hard you actually might budge." I was pretty sure that the quiver at the corner of Knox's mouth meant he was fighting a smile, but along with my head, my eyelids couldn't seem to stay up.

"Now there's a threat," he said.

"Enough sarcasm." I yawned again, scooting closer to him. "Can I use your shoulder as a pillow?"

"I thought you just said enough sarcasm."

When my eyes closed, I knew they'd stay that way for a long time. Someone could have been presenting me with the Pulitzer, and I wouldn't have been able to pry them open. "That wasn't sarcasm." My head dropped to his shoulder. It might have been a patchwork of muscle and sinew, making it not the most comfortable pillow in the world, but it was still pretty great.

Knox exhaled after my head had already dropped into its resting place. "Sure, Charlie. You can use whatever piece of me you need."

"Not every piece clearly." The rejection was still fresh on my mind, and it was still just as bitter of a pill to swallow.

"The only piece I wouldn't want you to use is my heart," he said, almost like it was a confession.

"Why?" I asked around another yawn.

"Because it's the only part of me I'm afraid could hurt you." He shifted, almost as if he was trying to put some distance between us.

"Why?" Another yawn. I knew that before another one could creep out, I'd probably be asleep.

"Because it's hard-so hard that no one can get inside it anymore."

What the . . .? Was I having a conversation with the Knox Jagger about hardened hearts? "Is that why they call you Hard Knox?"

"No." His pinkie finger looped around mine as he shifted a bit farther away. "It's why I call myself that."

I'D WOKEN UP to more roofie hangovers than I had alcohol ones. That was seriously messed up. My brain felt thick the next morning, my mouth and throat so dry I was a long ways past parched, and my body felt like it had been tumble-dried in some industrial-sized dryer. At least I wasn't half as bad this Sat.u.r.day morning as I'd been a week ago, but if those birds didn't stop chirping outside, I was going to go searching for a BB gun.

When I groaned, I wasn't sure what it was from: the splitting headache, the throbbing muscle aches, or the reminders of what had and hadn't happened last night. Another groan slipped out when my eyes opened to find b.u.t.tery morning light slicing through the window across from the couch I'd woken up on a week ago exactly.

Diverting my gaze, I saw the handcuff was still secured around my wrist, and beneath it were a few layers of gauze. From the feel of it, some kind of numbing antiseptic cream or healing balm had been rubbed on beneath the gauze. My mind might have been foggy about plenty of things from last night, but I did remember the rubbed-raw pain I'd felt from the cuff. I wasn't sure where Knox was, but I also wasn't sure I wanted to know until I'd worked out a few things in my head. Ready to close my eyes and hold reality at bay for at least another fifteen minutes, I snuggled back into the pillow beneath me and curled my handcuffed arm closer.

At least I tried pulling it closer.

"If you pull it out of socket, you have to put it back in," Knox's sleep-heavy voice said from below me.

When I propped up on my elbow to take a look, I found him camped out on the living room floor, his wrist trapped in the same cuffs mine was. While my arm had been comfortably supported by a couch, his was raised. From the looks of his pale arm, it had been raised that way most of the night. Knox didn't have a pillow under his head or a blanket draped across his body. Even his boots were still on.

"Sorry, I didn't know we were still attached."

"I suppose I can feel the attachment way more than you can," he replied, eyeing his arm sticking up in the air.

Inspecting his arm again, I saw that it wasn't just pale; it was almost white. In contrast to Knox's other arm, which had the tone of someone who'd just spent a summer of afternoons out in the sun, all I could think about was loss of blood-flow and amputation. Scooting to the edge of the couch, I dropped my arm, bringing his down with mine. Now instead of his draining of blood, mine would pool with it.

"I see you couldn't find a way to get the handcuffs off." I jingled the chain keeping us together, looking at him and trying not to fidget as images of what had happened last night flashed before me.

"You pa.s.sed out pretty hard. I could have rummaged through the garage for my bolt cutters, but I didn't want to wake you. Breaking the bond didn't seem as important as letting you have a little peace after everything that happened." Knox's eyes had yet to lock onto me, but they shut as he stumbled over his last few words.

"Why didn't you just lay me down beside you on the floor? I probably wouldn't have noticed if zombies had started tearing into my internal organs last night, let alone if I was curled up on the floor. Not to mention I'm guessing you have something that const.i.tutes as a bed in here. You could have just laid me down on that, and we both could have been comfortable."

Half of his face lined in a wince. "After the events of last night, I figured it wouldn't be a good idea to have you and me on the same level. On the floor or on a bed. Especially not on a bed."

"So you figured putting me two feet higher than you ought to ward off all temptation?" I peaked a brow at him, but his eyes were still firmly closed. From the looks of the hollows under his eyes, Knox hadn't slept well.

"I figured it was the right thing to do. That was all I considered when I set you onto the couch."

"And what about what happened before the couch, before I fell asleep. . . What do you figure that was? Right or wrong?"

I was diving right in, because why the h.e.l.l not? That kiss had to be discussed sometime, and the sooner we got it out in the open, the less time we'd have to tread awkward waters. I couldn't quite decide if I'd attribute last night to right or wrong, but I did know two things-I didn't regret it, and I wasn't ashamed of it. If I let myself regret things I'd done, or be ashamed by them, I'd be so busy wallowing in both that I'd drown. I lived. I learned. And then I kept right on living.

His forehead was deeply lined as he looked to be searching for the right words.

"If it's too hard to talk about this early in the morning, fine. We can wait until our coffee has set in, but-"

"This isn't because of the topic you're bringing up"-Knox pointed with his free hand at his pained expression-"because who wouldn't want to talk about what happened in the confines of my truck last night before seven a.m. on a Sat.u.r.day morning?" Yeah, there was no way of mistaking the sarcasm in his voice. "The reason I look like a limb's being ripped from my body is because I'm pretty sure my arm's about to be."

His arm still looked pale, but red p.r.i.c.ks of color were bleeding through. I'd had plenty of body parts fall asleep on me and had experienced just as many of those body parts coming back, and it wasn't a gentle or pleasant feeling.

"Sorry-again. Let's do this a little more gradually." I lifted his arm to more of a forty-five degree angle.

Knox pulled against me, lowering his arm back to the floor. "No, it's okay. I'd rather deal with all of the pain now than stretched out into smaller doses."

I winced when he punched the floor with his other hand. "Even your early morning proverbs are like little windows into your soul."

"I'm an open book, right? I don't get why no one else sees that." He wasn't squirming in obvious pain, but that almost made it worse to witness.