Page 49 of King of Kings

“They will. You just have to give them some time,” I tell her.

“Thanks, Soph,” she says.

“Of course. Now, get some sleep. I love you.”

I get up, watching her crawl under her blankets.

I make the decision to walk downstairs and grab a glass of water before bed. I like to do that when I don’t think I’ll run into someone in the house. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve been here; it still feels weird to be living here.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, I’m lost in thought, staring out the window when I hear Knox’s voice in the hallway.

“That’s not going to happen. I don’t need a date.”

I sit my glass in the sink, inching closer to the doorway.

“I have one, that’s why.”

Knox has a date? To where? My heart drops into my stomach. I was a fool. I knew even giving him a small piece of me was a risk.

I feel hot tears sting my eyes and angrily wipe them away before walking out of the room.

A hand reaches out and grabs my wrist before I can make it to the stairs.

“Were you eavesdropping, Sophie?” I hate that the sound of his voice sends a shiver through my body.

“Let go, Knox,” I say, shaking him off.

He grips my arms, shoving me up against the wall at the bottom of the stairs.

“Why do you have an attitude with me right now?” he asks.

The house might be dark, but the moonlight coming in through the curtains shows me that he’s shirtless.

Knox Kingston is by far the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. He towers over me. While he might intimidate some people, he turns me on.

“Leave me alone. It’s clear you have other things going on.” I turn my head, trying to avoid his intense stare.

“Sophie,” he says, gripping my chin with his fingers, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

“Please don’t,” I beg, tears threatening to fall.

“What changed in the few hours since we’ve been home?” he asks, his eyes studying my face.

“I don’t know. You shrugging me off when we walked in the door? Or you telling whoever that was on the phone that you have a date? You tell me,” I say.

“I didn’t mean to shrug you off. I immediately went into panic mode. I’m not sure when that feeling will go away,” he admits.

“I understand, but if you’re trying to make something work here, with me, then you have to let me in. Or at least try to,” I tell him.

“I don’t know how!” he says, hitting his hand on the wall next to my head, making me flinch.

I watch the concern cross his face.

“Did you just flinch? Do you think I’d hurt you?” he asks, clearly offended.

“No. I don’t think you’d ever hurt me,” I tell him honestly.

He isn’t the problem.