Ride With Me

Chapter Twelve

Morning came slowly. At first, it was nothing more than a soft warmth against her skin and the distant sounds of life beginning outside the tent. Someone was moving around beyond the canvas, footsteps crunching over the dirt. A truck door slammed somewhere nearby, followed by the low murmur of voices and the faint clink of something being set down.

Sunlight seeped through the canvas in thin, golden ribbons, warming the tent inch by inch.

Piper stirred beneath the sleeping bag, her mind still caught somewhere between sleep and consciousness.

For several long seconds, she didn't know where she was.

She breathed in.

The scent surrounding her was unfamiliar. Warm skin. Soap. A faint trace of smoke from the campfire. And something deeper that she couldn't quite place but instinctively recognized as him.

Her brow furrowed. She shifted slightly. That was when she felt the arm around her waist. Piper's eyes opened. The memories came back gradually.

The races.

The bets.

Knox.

The fight.

Her tires.

The campfire.

Chloe and Maya.

The laughter.

The food.

The offer to stay.

And then the night had taken a turn neither of them had pretended wasn't coming. Piper went completely still for a moment. Then, slowly, deliberately, she rolled onto her back beneath the sleeping bag. The canvas above her glowed amber with morning light. Beside her, Knox stirred. His arm slid across her stomach as she turned, his hand settling on her hip beneath the bag. She felt him shift, felt the heat of him along her side, and then his presence loomed over her.

Knox propped himself onto one elbow.

Piper looked up.

Dark hair tousled beyond reason. Heavy brows still soft with sleep. Those feline eyes tracing her face with a focus that made her breath catch. His mouth—that damn mouth—curved slightly at the corner. "Morning," he murmured.

"Morning," she whispered back.

His gaze traveled lower. The sleeping bag had ridden up to her collarbone, clutched loosely in her fingers. Knox watched her for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. Then his hand moved. His fingers found the edge of the sleeping bag.

Piper's grip tightened reflexively.

He paused.

That eyebrow lifted—a silent question. The same question he had asked her last night before everything had unraveled between them. Before she let him peel away her top. Before she gasped his name into the dark.

She let go of the fabric.

Knox slid the sleeping bag down.

The cool morning air hit her skin, raising goosebumps across her collarbone. Then her b****ts. The bag whispered downward, and Knox's eyes followed its path with a reverence that made Piper's stomach tighten.

"Christ," he breathed.

She lay bare beneath him now, the sleeping bag bunched at her hips. The golden light painted her skin in shades of honey. Knox didn't move for what felt like an eternity. He simply looked at her, his jaw tight, his breathing audibly changed.

"You're staring," Piper said.

"Yeah." No apology. No shame. "I am."

His free hand rose. Fingertips touched her sternum—just barely—and Piper's whole body answered. A shallow inhale. A flutter beneath her ribs. Her n*****s tightening in the cool air.

Watching her face, Knox traced a line down her breastbone. Then outward. His palm skimmed the curve of her b****t, and Piper's lips parted. He didn't rush. His touch was deliberate, exploratory, as though he hadn't already mapped every inch of her the night before.

"Knox—"

"Shh."

His thumb brushed her n****e. Once. Piper's back arched before she could stop it. A sound escaped her throat—quiet, involuntary. The corner of Knox's mouth lifted, but his eyes stayed dark. Focused.

He lowered his head. His mouth found the hollow of her throat. Warm. Open. Piper's hand came up to grip his bicep, her fingers digging into muscle. He kissed a slow path downward—collarbone, sternum, the swell of her breast—and every point of contact burned.

Outside, Chloe laughed about something.

Piper didn't hear it. She heard only the rasp of Knox's breath against her skin. The wet heat of his mouth closing over her n****e. The low groan that vibrated through his chest when her nails raked down his arm. "Yes," she breathed.

He sucked harder. Her hips rolled. The sleeping bag slid lower.

His hand moved down her ribs, her waist, the flare of her hip. Fingertips grazing. Promising. He released her b****t with a wet sound and lifted his head to look at her. Pupils blown wide. Lips parted. Skin flushed from cheeks to chest. "So goddamn beautiful," he said, and the words weren't smooth or practiced. They came out rough. Almost reverent.

Piper reached up. Her fingers slid into his hair, and she pulled him down. The kiss was nothing like the ones they had shared last night. Those had been hungry. Desperate. This was slower—a deliberate, scorching claim. His tongue stroked hers, and Piper moaned into his mouth. Her legs shifted beneath the sleeping bag, thighs pressing together in search of friction.

Knox broke the kiss.

"Bag," he said. "Where is your bag?"

It took Piper a second to process. Then understanding dawned, and heat flooded her cheeks.

"Left side," she managed.

He reached over her. The tent was small, and he had to stretch across her body to reach her bag near the tent flap. His chest brushed hers, warm skin and hard muscle, and Piper bit her lip.

The sound of a zipper. Then another.

Knox came back with the small foil packet.

He tore it open with his teeth.

Piper watched him roll the condom on—her eyes tracing the thick length of him, the way his stomach muscles tensed at his own touch. When he looked at her again, his expression had shifted.

Still intense.

But patient.

Knox moved over her.

The sleeping bag fell away completely now, kicked aside, forgotten. He settled between her thighs, and Piper's legs wrapped around his hips with an ease that should have frightened her. It didn't. He entered her slowly.

Piper's head tipped back. Her mouth opened around a sound that never made it out. The stretch of him—the fullness—registered in stages. First her breath catching. Then her fingers clutching his shoulders. Then her heels digging into the backs of his thighs.

"Okay?" Knox's voice was strained.

She nodded. Swallowed. "Yes. Don't—don't stop."

He didn't.

The first thrust was shallow. Testing. The second went deeper, and Piper's gasp echoed off the canvas walls. Knox's forehead dropped to hers. His breath came hot against her lips as he moved, each stroke measured and devastating.

"Look at me," he said.

Piper opened her eyes.

What she saw there undid something in her chest. Not just desire. Something rawer. More exposed.

He thrust again, and her vision blurred at the edges.

"You feel—" she started, but the words dissolved into a moan as he angled his hips.

"You like that?" His voice was wrecked. The rhythm built. Slow at first—agonizingly slow—then deeper. Harder. Piper's nails raked down his back, and Knox hissed through his teeth. His hand found her thigh, hitching it higher, and the new angle made her cry out.

"Shh," he murmured, but the smile tugging at his lips was pure sin as he covered her mouth. "Tent walls aren't soundproof."

"I don't—" she gasped into his palm as he drove into her again. "—care."

Neither did he.

His pace quickened. The world outside the tent faded. No Chloe. No Maya. No Jackson. No bikes. No races. Only Knox above her, around her, inside her, his body a relentless rhythm that pushed her higher and higher toward some invisible edge.

Piper's hips rose to meet him.

"That's it," he breathed against her ear. "Let go."

Her body obeyed before her mind caught up.

The climax hit without warning—a sudden, violent pulse that seized her muscles and stopped her breath. Her back bowed off the sleeping bag. Her fingers twisted in his hair. Knox's name left her mouth in a shattered whisper.

He followed seconds later, burying his face in her neck as his body went rigid.

The tent held them in its amber stillness.

For long moments, neither of them moved. Knox's weight pressed her into the sleeping bag, and Piper found she didn't mind. She could feel his heartbeat hammering against her ribs. Or maybe that was hers.

Eventually, he lifted his head.

His eyes met hers.

"So," he said, voice hoarse. "Breakfast?"

Piper laughed—a breathless, surprised sound—and shoved weakly at his shoulder. "Get off me, Connor."

"Eventually." He kissed her forehead. Then her nose. Then her mouth, soft this time. Sweet. Her chest ached with something she refused to name.

Outside, a voice called out. "Knox! You alive in there?"

Diesel.

Knox closed his eyes.

Piper watched his expression shift from sated to resigned to something dangerously close to sheepish. "Your friends are going to know everything when we walk out of here," she whispered.

"Yep." He pulled out gently, disposed of the condom, then collapsed beside her. His arm found her waist again.

Possessive.

Easy.

Like it belonged there.

Piper stared at the canvas ceiling. She should get dressed. Face the day. Face Chloe and Maya. Face whatever knowing looks were waiting for her beyond that tent flap. Instead, she turned onto her side and pressed her forehead to Knox's shoulder. "Five more minutes," she murmured.

His arm tightened around her.

The tent glowed gold.

And somewhere deep in Piper's chest, something that had been locked tight for years cracked open just a little wider.