Knox doesn’t move when we pull into the hospital parking lot.
His fingers stay curled tight around the steering wheel, gaze forward. The engine is off, but his body hasn’t caught up. The tension in his arms is visible, humming under his rolled-up sleeves. Even the little lines around his eyes seem sharper.
I unbuckle my seatbelt and glance at him. “Aren’t you coming?”
He shakes his head once. “No. I’ve got some things to take care of.”
“Work stuff?”
“Mmhmm.”
I don’t press. Instead, I lean toward him, dropping a kiss on his cheek. But the moment I start to pull away, his hand shoots up, tangling into my hair and tugging me back to him.
His mouth crashes against mine with zero warning—hot, rough, claiming. His teeth nip my bottom lip, just enough to sting, and his tongue follows to so
