Craving The Wrong Brother (Sloane and Knox) novel Chapter 148

About an hour later, we’re sitting outside some taco place tucked into a quiet corner of lower Manhattan, not far from the South Street Seaport. The smell of roasted corn and grilled meat fills the air. Knox’s car is parked across the street—black and polished and completely out of place next to the weathered brick walls and flashing string lights of this tiny eatery.

We’re seated at a small metal table, and Knox is biting into a taco with zero grace. I’m not doing much better.

“That’s not how you eat it,” he says through a mouthful, pointing at the way I’ve tilted mine sideways. “You’re gonna get it all over your dress.”

“What’s the point of eating tacos if not to get messy?”

He smirks. “Touché. You’re nasty. I like that.”

And then, without warning, he leans in and licks a smear of chipotle mayo off the corner of my mouth. His tongue is hot and slow, and I almost drop my taco. My eyes flutter closed for a second.

“Shit,” I breathe when he pulls back. “I think I need to make some more mess.”

“You don’t need to find creative ways to get me to maul you. Just say the word.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” I grin. And then a question I’ve had in my mind for a while pops up. “By the way, have you heard from your friend, Hunter?”

“He’s still out of the country.”

“Right.” I try to keep my tone casual, but he’s already watching me too closely. It can't be a coincidence that Hunter and Soraya seem to be out of the country at the same time. With the kind of crazy things going on around me these days, I wouldn’t be surprised if those two are hooking up. It’s an odd combination.

Knox, of course, reads it on my face.

“You can say whatever’s on your mind, you know.”

I hesitate, then go for it. “So… Hunter and Soraya. Are they…?”

“I strongly believe so.”

“Don’t you find that weird? Your ex-wife being with him? Isn’t that the whole reason he called off his wedding? Because Delilah had been with you?”

“In his defense,” Knox says, licking salsa from his thumb, “Soraya and I weren’t together in that sense. And I think he’s a different person now.”

“Sure,” I say.

I want to add that who isn’t? It seems we all decided life is too short after that grenade went off. But Hunter and Soraya? Really?

“It’s a pattern, you know,” I say.

“What?”

“Your friend. I think he likes being used.”

Knox raises an eyebrow. “Why would you think that?”

“Because Soraya’s obviously looking for a husband to help her raise her kid, as she said in that warehouse. She’s using him. Hunter’s just a means to an end.”

He stares at me for a long second and then breaks into laughter, tipping his head back. It's the kind of deep, genuine laughter I don’t see from him often.

“What’s funny?” I ask.

“You don’t see the coincidence? The first day I met you, you said the same thing about Hunter and Delilah. Called her a gold digger and all. Months later, here we are again.”

“So?”

“You are not allowed to interfere this time. I don’t think he’d forgive us again if we mess this up. Do you think I’m willing to write an apology letter to Hunter?”

I roll my eyes. “I think we’ve covered how much you hate apologies, Knox. The scars on your back are enough reminder.”

He laughs again, and we fall into easy conversation. Knox's eyes never leave mine. We keep talking, laughing, and teasing each other. Somehow, by the time we’re done eating, I’ve managed to get taco sauce on my chest, on my neck, and what looks like guacamole on my shoulder. Knox keeps making increasingly creative offers to “help clean me up,” and I keep having to ward him off with my napkin like I’m fending off an overly friendly dog.

He stands and takes my hand, saying, “Come on. There's something I have to show you.”