Unexpected

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Interests:

• Contemporary
• Family Saga
• Romantic Comedy
• Surprise Baby
• Workplace Romance

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Knox

You know you hear those stories about falling in love? The ones where they talk about falling in love at first sight, that the moment they see THE ONE, and they fall in love? I thought it was all bullshit. It’s a secret I keep hidden from my fans, from the millions of people who love the sound of my voice and buy my records. People adore my voice no matter what I sing. From the hard-rocking anthems to the soulful ballads that make them cry. Especially that last group. They would have been pretty pissed if they knew just how I felt about all that crap.

Hence, the reason I keep my feelings about love under wraps. I covered it with a lot of women. So many women. I’m embarrassed now that I look back at my actions. I was only twenty-two when we started gaining a fan base and well…it went to my head. Plus, I could play the manwhore of the group. My older brothers, Gareth and Jax, have never slept around that much. And of course, both of them are now all cozied up with their women—both of whom they say they fell in love with the moment they saw them. I roll my eyes. It only took Gareth months to finally act on his feelings, but Jax was worse. SIX YEARS. Granted, Livvie was a little too young for him when he met her, but still.

So, I would typically make fun of them, mock them for their stupid love stories. That is, I would have before I met Abby Ford.

We’re taking a short break from our current tour. Unconventional, but it is the best idea Pippa March—our tour manager who is also now my brother Gareth’s woman—came up with. Abby is our personal chef for the week, and from the moment I saw her, I wanted her. No, that isn’t the right term. I knew I would have her. It had been over a year since I took a woman to bed. I just found it got old, that I wanted something more.

I wanted…Abby.

I didn’t know who she was before, but it was like my heart knew I would meet her soon. Like the year without a taste for women was preparing me to meet her. And now, I can’t think of anything but her. I play a good game, and no one in my band has figured it out. Sure, I’ve shown some attraction for her, but that’s what they expected from me. Truth is, I have kept my control barely in check. My cock is always at least half-hard, cum dripping out of it whenever she’s near. I smell her sweet honeysuckle scent, and it’s like a beacon for my cum. Makes sense because I plan on filling her up over and over until she’s got a baby in her belly.

It’s an insane thought, but I don’t care. She’s the woman for me, the one that I know will moan my name before the week is over. It’s that, or I might end up in the hospital due to a lack of blood in my brain. I have to get inside of her.

I watch as she moves around the kitchen. It’s just her and me this morning, the others off banging each other senseless, I’m sure.

But I am okay with that. That means I get Abby to myself. I sip the amazing coffee she made for me, my gaze glued to her. I have never seen anything as beautiful as Abby in the kitchen. She flits about, the motions economical but also stunning. It’s like she’s dancing to some kind of musical score only she can hear.

“You know you can stare at me all you want, but I can’t read your mind. You have to tell me what you want for breakfast.”

God, that voice. It shimmers with Georgia sunshine. It makes me want to know just how that pussy of hers tastes. Is it sweet like honeysuckle? I swear I can smell her even ten feet away from her.

“Knox, what do you want for breakfast?”

You.

Yeah, I don’t say it out loud. The irony isn’t lost on me. I’ve gotten hundreds of women into my bed, but the one I love—from the moment she smiled at me and said “good morning” that first day—I can’t deal with. Talking to her leaves me a stuttering mess.

I clear my throat when I realize she’s been waiting for me to answer. “How about a Denver omelet?”

Her face clears, and she smiles at me. And right there. My chest squeezes tight. My cock twitches. I don’t know how many times I’ve whacked off to thoughts of her. She’s starred in every one of my fantasies since I met her two days ago.

“Any toast with that?”

I shake my head. “The omelet will be fine.”

She nods and gets to work. I imagine her in my home in Charlottesville. If I squint hard enough, I can see her there, in my kitchen, humming along while she moves back and forth cooking. Her belly would be round, filled with our child.

My hands shake, my dick leaks out a little cum, and I bite back a moan. I have never gotten hard at the thought of getting a woman pregnant until I met her. Now, that’s all I can think about. I want her naked, spread out beneath me as I fuck a baby into her.

“I guess we won’t be seeing the others that much.”

“Probably not. They’ll be trying their best to make up for lost time. Plus, once we hit the road, hooking up gets difficult.”

She glances over at me, then back down at her cutting board. Her cheeks turn the most adorable shade of pink.

“Hmm,” is all she says.

“You get my meaning, right?”

I am such an asshole, but I’m barely keeping myself sane with my almost hourly masturbation sessions in which she has the starring role.

“I think so.”

“The little bunk beds are not fun even by yourself.”

She nods and turns on the burner under the omelet pan.

I want to push her, make her admit she’s never been with a man. I don’t understand it, because she’s a knockout. Long curling dark hair, blue eyes, that sexy, southern accent…how is she still a virgin? But I am sure of it.

Still, I hold back. If I push her too much, I might just push her away. “So, you don’t have to cook dinner for everyone, right?”

She nods and looks a little sad.

“What?’

She glances up at me, then back to the omelet. “I hate not working. I mean, I know it’s cool, I get paid no matter what, but a lot of times I sit around without anything to do.”

“Well, you can cook for me—on one condition.”

Abby glances at me, then back to her work. She definitely doesn’t trust me. Smart girl.

“What condition?”

“That you eat with me.”

She sighs. “That wouldn’t be proper.”

“If you haven’t figured it by now, we’re not the normal rock band. And please, don’t make me eat by myself.”

She plates my food and brings the omelet over to me. I lean in and breathe deeply. I love to eat. But this goes beyond that love. I can smell the herbs and veggies, but there is a hint of Abby herself. That spicy-sweet scent I crave. I look up at her and smile.

“Thank you. This looks fantastic.”

She nods and waits. I cut into it, enjoying the way the cheese oozes out of the rolled egg mixture. I stab it with my fork, then slip it between my lips. God almighty. The delicate egg, the bold peppers, and onions. I hum. I can’t help it.

“So, it’s good?” she asks.

“My dear Abigail, this is not just good. This is amazing.”

Her face flushes again, but she continues to smile. “Thank you.”

“So, what do you say?” I ask right before I shove more of it in my mouth. “Dinner. You and I. Nothing too much, but I really don’t want to go find someone to eat with in Denver.”

There are enough women on my phone that would make it easy to find a dinner date. But I don’t want them. I want Abby.

“I don’t know if Pippa would approve.”

I want to scream ‘fuck Pippa,’ but then I would be afraid Gareth would hear me. There’s an excellent chance I would get my ass kicked. Worse, Pippa could hear and I’m more afraid of her than Gareth. She’s kept us all in line these months on tour, and I don’t doubt that she would kick my ass from here to our next tour stop if I said anything like that. And I would deserve it because it isn’t her fault I am in this predicament.

“Listen, it would only be dinner. I’ll cook.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Really? You know cooking for a chef is like a fate worse than death.”

That comment tells me someone—probably a male someone—said something to her in the past. Guys can be such assholes, but his idiocy is my win. I kick ass in the kitchen. I mean, I’m not someone who can throw a soufflé together, but I know how to put a meal together.

“How about this: we cook together. You teach me your favorite dinner you like to cook.”

She studies me for a long moment. I swear I can hear a clock ticking in the distance as she takes her time and thinks about my proposition.

“Okay.”

It’s ridiculous how happy that one little word makes me. “In your little house.” She’s staying in the back in a guest house. It’s got a full kitchen.

“Knox…”

I shake my head. “I need to get away from all of this.” I motion with my hands in the air, and comprehension fills her expression.

Her gaze softens. Usually, I would hate to be pitied, especially by a woman. But if it gets me time with her, I don’t care. She nods. “Okay. From what I remember, you’re not allergic to anything, right?’

I nod.

“Okay, good.”

“Do we need to go shopping?”

She rolls her eyes. “No, and there’s no way I would go out with you.”

“You wound me.” She really does, but there’s no reason for her to feel bad, so I say it in a way that makes her think I’m joking. Insane what I will do to get this woman to like me.

“I don’t want to get hounded by your fans. Plus, I have all the ingredients, so not a problem.”

“Okay. So, what time do you want me?’

Her eyes widen, and her mouth forms a little “o.” Damn, I can’t wait to see how those ruby red lips look like wrapped around my dick.

“Five? It won’t take long to cook.”

“It’s a date.”

“Knox…”

I hold up my hands in a “look mom, I’m only kidding” way, but she still eyes me with suspicion.

“Listen, just a slip of the tongue. Or what do you call it…a saying. No pressure. Just need to get out of this house where everyone is having sex but me.”

“Fine, but nothing more.”

Oh, please. I can hear the need simmering in her voice, but I don’t mention that. Instead, I smile.

“Deal.”

End of Excerpt