Summer Breeze Kisses - Addison Moore Page 0,207

at his door. This way at least he knows I’m coming.

It takes a minute, but my phone lights up as Knox surrenders his address.

Your sister wouldn’t happen to be there, would she?

No use in pretending we’re friends. Sure, what she did was the obligatory sisterly thing to do—hell, if Henry was ever in the same position, I’d threaten bodily assault by way of wielding a bat, but still. I’m not up for any more of her sisterly shenanigans.

No. Should she be?

I laugh a moment. Only if you need backup, sweetheart.

He texts right back. I think I can take you.

A line of heat bisects my stomach at the thought of Knox taking me in any physical capacity and Sylvia hums in approval. Down, girl. But that kiss. My mind swims with future possibilities as Sylvia guns for a kiss of her own. Maybe I do need another one—just to be sure that whole best kiss ever thing was sort of a one-off. There’s no way he’s that good a kisser. Emotions were high that night. If my dog had licked me, I would have thought it was the best kiss ever. I’ll have to try to get Knox to demonstrate for me at some point in time, but when? Who knows when we’ll be in the presence of the jackass brigade again. Although with me around, the chances seem high. I can’t seem to shake them these days.

I head over past The Row, past another two blocks until I come upon a ritzy neighborhood where the houses are bigger and the cars in the driveway cost as much as one year at Whitney Briggs. My parents are both alumni, so I’ve been primed to be a Mustang all my life. Most of the kids at Briggs have parents who are rolling in it, but I know for a fact both Ava and Lucky are there on scholarship. And seeing that this ritzy neighborhood is so close to WB, it doesn’t surprise me that the Range Rover quota just shot up a hundred percent. Hey? Maybe Laney and Ryder would be interested in this area? Just glancing up the street, I see at least two For Sale signs. Ha. I’ve just done my research for the weekend. Come Monday, I’ll have something spectacular to show them.

I glance at my phone and double check the address on the stone-covered home with the white pickup in the driveway before making my way up and giving a brisk knock.

The night air hangs dead and weighted, wet with perspiration all its own as the humidity skyrockets.

The door swings open, but it’s not the cool air-conditioned breeze that has me panting with excitement. It’s the fact Knox Toberman is wearing nothing but a pair of flimsy shorts. There he is, muscular to a fault, those ridges along his abs are all that I thought they would be, and then some. Those thick biceps of his seem to be flexed they bulge so much, and the long ropey veins in his arms jump as he pulls the door open further.

“Come in.” A wicked grin flirts with his lips. “You’re letting in all the hot air.”

“Oh, right.” I stumble inside to the cool, dare I say immaculately clean living room—gray hardwood floors, steel coffee table, off-white couches. “Wow,” I muse. “It actually looks nice in here. I guess I was expecting empty pizza boxes and beer cans rolling around on the floor.”

“That would be the frat house across from where you live.” His eyes lock onto mine a moment as the heat level rises between us despite the icy breeze blowing in from above. He nods me over to the next room. “I’ll give you the tour.”

We step into the kitchen, aka a work of art with its white shaker cabinets, white marble countertops, and I actually head over to the island and lie over it a moment with my arms spread wide.

“Oh my God,” I moan over the cool, creamy goodness.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m giving it a hug.” I look up to find the supersized fridge and gasp as I run over. “Sub-Zero!” My eyes twitch around to gawk at all the appliances. “Wolf stove, red knobs. God, the food you can cook!” I step over to a tiny wall oven. “Dear God, is this a steamer?”

Knox gives a demonic grin as if I were the only meal he was interested in. Have I mentioned he’s practically naked? My God, the boy is cut.

“You’re either hungry or trying