Only With You (Knights #2)

28

LANDON

“So, what made you feel your best?” Reid asks.

There’s nothing to think about, but still, I let the silence simmer.

I process the entire night. I think back to every passing second, and how she evoked not only snowy white and electric sapphire, but a vibrant gold and an explosive red.

Those last two colours are new. I’ve never seen them, at least not until she moaned, because when she did, it was an invigorating experience. An array of colours that went wild.

They’re breathtaking, like her smiles.

There’s something about it, and to say it’s mesmerising feels too generic.

It’s…idyllic. Yeah, idyllic is fitting.

I’m also doing a disservice saying the colours are gold and red, because they’re more than that. They’re a hypnotising aurora borealis of vivacious aurous and intense impetuous cherry red.

That’s the best way to describe the surreal colours that glistened and swirled.

“Talking to her made me feel my best.”

And what happened in her room has nothing to do with the way she made me feel.

A pleased smile curls on his lips. “Does this her have a name?”

“Julianna Sparks.”

I rake my fingers through my wet hair while I check the time on my phone.

I just got out of basketball practice and should be heading to Julianna’s for tutoring, but I needed to make a quick stop by the football stadium.

There’s no reason why I should be here. What I’m doing is irrational and irritating.

Irrational, because the smartest thing to do with this jumper is throwing it in the bin, but I can’t bring myself to do that. And that’s why I’m irritated, because I’m here to return it.

It’s childish, even for me, but there’s this… bitter taste in my mouth I can’t seem to get rid of. It lingered until it slithered its way down to my chest where it lodged itself between my heart and rib cage.

The feeling is foreign and so unnatural, no matter what I do, I can’t shake it off, and it’s all because of this stupid jumper. I don’t understand what’s so special about it. I would know. I’m wearing one like it, but for basketball.

I’m brought out of my conflicting thoughts when I hear the reason why I’m here.

“Landon?” Finnick Kamiński stares at me, bewildered, but he smiles nonetheless. “What are you?—”

I push off his 4Runner and toss him the reason for my headache. “This is yours.”

He catches it with ease and stares, puzzled. “What are you doing with this? I thought I gave this to?—”

“Julianna, yes. She doesn’t need it anymore. It’s washed.”

I’d be damned if I returned it back with her scent.

Realisation settles on his face, as does a smug smile. “It’s not like that. We’re just friends.”

And we hated each other, but I finger-fucked her and ate her out. My dick and hand have also gotten acquainted with each other two days after that night, and since I’ve found out she followed me back on Instagram. But that’s beside the point.

“Don’t care.” I walk away, hoping the deep-rooted feeling will disintegrate, but now it dug a tiny hole in my heart.

When the door opens, a fuming Julianna stands on the other side, staring up at me like she’s going to murder me.

“Why the hell did you tell Finn we’re together and why did you give him the sweater back? I texted you and asked you where it was!” She hisses, a mask of anger covering her face.

Did I possibly make a statement by returning it back? Yes. Do I feel bad about it? No.

I don’t dwell or pretend. If I do, it’ll consume and push me over the cliff I’ve done well not to go near.

It’s a path of self-destruction and self-loathing, which is why I like to be upfront about how I feel. No bullshitting. The inevitable is bound to happen and it’s why I never hold back. But lately, I’ve been holding back from her.

There have been so many years of animosity between us that I’m not sure what to make of this. It’s confusing the hell out of me, but there’s one thing that’s certain: I like whatever the hell we’ve got going on. I like that she fights me, when she gives me her patronising stares, and her smart-arse mouth.

God, I love her mouth.

“I didn’t tell him we’re together. If he misunderstood what I was trying to get across, then that’s a problem he needs to work on. And what’s so special about the jumper?” A bullet of irritation hits my chest, and with the already bitter feeling in there, they collide and become best friends.

Julianna crosses her arms against her chest and inhales a breath like she’s trying to rein in her frustration. “And what were you trying to get across?”

“To kindly fuck off.” And that’s as polite as I’m going to get.

She stares, taken aback. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I want Saturday again.”

The tension on her body crumbles, her eyes grow a tad, and a rosy hue coats her cheeks. “I thought you said it was a one-time thing.”

That’s what I told myself that night. I thought once I got her out of my system, I’d be able to stop fantasising about her. Stop wondering what she sounds like, what every inch of her body feels like, what she tastes like. And I got exactly what I wanted, but once I left her apartment, I could still hear her breathy moans, still smell her perfume on me, taste her on my tongue, and feel her on my hands.

When I got home, I saw that she had followed me back. When I saw her pictures on her private account, I understood why she keeps it private. They’re provocative and so fucking hot.

I’m not ashamed to say I fucked my hand staring at one of her pictures. But after I came, it hit me that the same way I saw her, someone else will, too.

I can’t let that happen.

“I was wrong. I don’t want it to be a one-time thing. I want more as long as you do.”

We didn’t anticipate what happened on Saturday, but we weren’t fighting against it either. If anything, we were provoking each other on purpose. We knew what we were doing, we knew we were egging each other on, because we both wanted it bad.

Once was never going to cut it.

A deeper shade of pink spreads across her cheek. “Why did you give him the sweater back?”

I swear I see red, but I shove the bubbling bitterness away and lift my hand behind my head, grab the neck of my jumper and take it off. I don’t miss the way her eyes land on my exposed abdomen. I’d call her out on it, but that’d only encourage an argument. I don’t mind them, but I’m still in the hall, waiting for her to let me in.

“Here, it’s made out of the same material.” I hold it out for her to take, but she stares at it with hesitation. “Don’t be difficult.”

“I’m not being difficult, but I don’t think you understand. Finn didn’t let me borrow his sweater. He let me keep it. I don’t want to borrow yours.”

“I’m not handing it to you so you can use it temporarily. I want you to keep it.”

I’ve never imagined Julianna wearing anything that belongs to me, but now it’s all that’s seizing my thoughts.

Her brows quirk up, but then her eyes narrow with suspicion. “Is this supposed to be some kind of game?”

I swear to God only Julianna has the ability to annoy and make me want to kiss her in the same breath. The thought is both shocking and overwhelming.

“I don’t like to bullshit. This isn’t a game. I want you to keep it and I want you to think about Saturday.”

The pink seeps back on her cheeks and her throat bobs as she takes the jumper from my hands and lets me in.

She gives me a tight-lipped smile before she sighs. “It’s best if we don’t.”

I tame the ball of disappointment that comes out of nowhere. It’s been a while since I’ve felt that emotion. It’s startling how much I feel it and how it’s slowly spreading across my chest and mind.

“Why is it best if we don’t?”

“Because it wouldn’t work out.”

“Why wouldn’t it work out?”

She chews on her bottom lip, fingers fiddling with my jumper. “I don’t share. I don’t think I could sleep with you knowing you’d be sleeping with other people. And no, I’m not judging, do what you want, but?—”

“And you think I want to share you?”

Her pupils dilate and those plump lips part. I can only imagine what’s going through her mind, probably thinking I’ll backtrack or say I’m kidding, but I’m one-hundred percent serious.

The thought of her being with someone else makes me feel oddly annoyed.

“ Oh .” Her lips create a small O, then she licks them. “So, this thing between us…what would it entail?”

“Whatever you want it to entail. You set the boundaries.”

I can tell she’s still unsure and despite the interest that piques on her face, she’s still not sold on the thought of us.

“You don’t have to answer now. Just think about it. But don’t feel pressured to do something you don’t want. I just wanted you to know where I stand and what I want.”

“And you want me?” she asks, her voice soft.

“I do. I want you.” Without a beat of hesitation, I reply as another thought comes to mind. “Do you still have our tutoring contract?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Do me a favour and look at it before you make up your mind.”

It was a joke at first, but now, I stand by what I wrote. She might be into it, or she might slap the shit out of me. I guess I’ll find out soon.

Julianna slips my— her black jumper on as she replies, “Okay.”

My breath catches because the sight of her with it on is better than my imagination could have conjured.

My mind becomes a mess as she pulls her hands through the sleeves. It’s baggy on her, the hem right at her mid-thighs, and sleeves dangle past her fingertips.

“Okay,” I breathe.