My heart skips several beats at once. And not in the cutesy, butterflies-in-the-stomach way. No, this is the kind of beat-skipping that punches you square in the chest and makes your lungs forget how to breathe.
Every memory from last night comes flooding back like a filthy little slideshow behind my eyelids. My thighs clench on instinct. My mouth is dry. My pulse is chaos.
“You know Sloane?” Victoria asks, reminding me that there are, in fact, other people in the room.
Knox doesn’t look away. “I do.”
“From New York?”
He moves away from his mother and drops into the nearest couch with that lazy grace he always carries. At least his eyes are no longer on me, and I can finally exhale.
“Actually,” he replies, “we met for the first time yesterday.”
I swear I hear Finn inhaling deeply an
