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  He nodded to his plate. “How about letting me try that asparagus?”

  “Sure.” She picked up a spear and fed it to him. “What do you think? Is it good, or should we stick with the steak and potatoes?”

  Swallowing, Knox nodded. “It’s good, too. Hell, all of it’s good.” He inspected the table. “What did we get for dessert?”

  Savannah peeked beneath a couple of smaller lids and her eyes all but rolled back in her head. A purr of delight emanated from her throat. “Strawberries and fresh cream. Forget the chakras. Let’s eat. We can study later.”

  “Agreed.”

  Without further discussion, they promptly began to feed each other. Savannah loaded her fingers while sucking her bites from his and vice versa. Knox made sure that he got a suggestive lick in every third or fourth bite, but rather than giving him a frosty glare, Savannah eventually began to take it as a challenge. Sucking particularly hard one time, giving a clever flick of her facile tongue another. She was so damned competitive, she didn’t intend for him ever to get the upper hand. Big surprise there, Knox thought. She took everything as a challenge and he seemed to be her favorite opponent.

  Knox tolerated the main course with amazing restraint, but began to have a problem when they moved on to dessert. Watching Savannah’s lips pucker around a strawberry, watching her lick the cream from his finger and around her mouth without having a screaming orgasm was proving to be damned difficult. To be honest, he didn’t particularly like strawberries, but kept eating them anyway so that he could taste her fingers. He’d never imagined that feeding someone, or being fed, could be so damned erotic.

  But it was.

  And they’d get to repeat the whole process tomorrow night, and the next.

  Savannah polished off the last strawberry with a deep sigh of satisfaction. Her tongue made a slow lap around her lips, making sure that she’d savored every bit of the arousing dessert. “That,” she said meaningfully, “was excellent.”

  Without a doubt, Knox thought. He seriously doubted he’d ever eat again without thinking about this experience. Gave a whole new meaning to the term finger foods.

  Savannah stood, placed her palms on the small of her back and stretched. Newton’s Third Law: For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. For reasons that escaped him, this was the thought that tripped through his head as Savannah’s naked breasts were pushed up and against the thin fabric of her gown. He longed to taste her through the fabric, to draw the crown of that creamy breast into his mouth.

  Savannah finally relaxed. “I’ll wheel this dining cart out into the hall, then we’ll get started on our chakra lessons.”

  “Fine.” Knox lay down at the foot of the bed.

  Her step faltered on her return trip to the table. “What are you doing?”

  He gestured to the bedside lamps. “Better lighting.”

  “Right.” She smirked.

  Oh, hell. One step forward, two steps back. She didn’t drop her guard for anything. “You can lean against the headboard,” Knox told her. “We’ll be more comfortable.”

  “There is that. You’ll need to be comfortable when we unblock your perineum chakra.”

  “My perineum chakra isn’t blocked,” Knox said through gritted teeth.

  “We’ll see,” she said maddeningly.

  Savannah retrieved the book, then did as Knox suggested and settled herself against the headboard of the bed. The bedside light cast part of her face in shadow and the other in stark relief. The pure white gown practically glowed, giving her an almost ethereal appearance. Knox swallowed as an unfamiliar emotion clogged his throat. If he’d ever seen a more beautiful woman, he couldn’t recall.

  “Okay,” she sighed. “Let’s get down to business.” She read for a moment and then her laughing gaze tangled with his. “According to this, the root chakra deals with the desire to own and possess. People who have difficulty expressing themselves, who limit spontaneity, and are inflexible are generally tense in this chakra.” She gave him a pointed look. “In short, they are tight-asses. Like you.” She frowned innocently. “Do you have a problem with hemorrhoids, Knox?”

  His lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “Right now, you’re the only pain in my ass.”

  She laughed—actually laughed out load, a femininely melodious sound. He’d worked with her for over a year and had never heard her more than chuckle briefly. Another breakthrough, Knox decided, irrationally pleased with himself.

  “In order to unblock this chakra, you’re supposed to insert your finger into your lover’s rosebud and—”

  Knox felt his butt draw up again. “What? What’s a rosebud?”

  She grinned evilly. “It’s tantric slang for asshole.”

  “Nobody is going to insert anything into my rosebud,” Knox said flatly.

  “It won’t bloom,” Savannah warned.

  “Good.”

  Wearing a wicked smile, she shrugged. “Okay, for the sake of our respective rosebuds, let’s just assume that neither one of us is blocked in the root chakra.”

  Knox felt his ass relax. “That’ll work for me.”

  Savannah read on for a moment, then looked up. “Okay, we’re supposed to align our chakras, express our love—”

  Knox sat up. “Align? Did you say align?”

  “Yes.”

  He smiled triumphantly. “And isn’t that what I told you we were supposed to do in the first place?”

  Savannah gazed at him. “You might have,” she admitted hesitantly.

  He collapsed onto the bed once more. “I knew it. I knew we were supposed to align something, by God.”

  She heaved an exasperated sigh. “You don’t align your chakras until you unblock them. We’ve unblocked our root chakra. Now we align, express our love, and chant lam.”

  Savannah set the book aside, moved away from the headboard and lay down in front of Knox. “We’re aligned. Now chant.”

  Knox frowned. “You call this aligned? Shouldn’t you be closer?” He gestured to the thirty-six inches that yawned between them.

  “This’ll do.”

  Knox shook his head doubtfully, snaked an arm around her waist and tugged her toward him. He fitted her snugly up next to his body and growled low in his throat. “Now this is aligned.”

  She looked up at him and twin devils danced in her eyes. She batted her lashes. “Express your love, Knox.”

  Knox grinned. “I love your ass.”

  Another laugh bubbled up, making her shake against him. She smelled like strawberries and cream and apple lotion, and she felt utterly incredible in his arms. Lust licked at his veins, stirred in his loins.

  “That’ll do,” she finally replied. “Let’s chant. Laaaammmmmm. Laaaammmmmm.”

  Knox made a halfhearted attempt but couldn’t continue. The absolute absurdity of it hit him and he’d begun to laugh and couldn’t stop. “Can you believe that right now, while we’re lying here, people in this house are having their r-rosebuds digitally probed and are chanting this stuff?”

  Savannah giggled. “And Chuck’s probably whacking off.”

  Knox guffawed until his sides hurt, then rolled over onto his back and smoothed his hair off his forehead. He blew out a breath. “Because they think that this is going to cure them, that this tantric stuff is going to fix whatever is wrong with their lives.”

  Savannah’s chuckled tittered out. “It’s kind of sad, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Knox admitted solemnly. “It really is.”

  “If it doesn’t work, we’ll report it,” she said at last. “That’s what we do.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m looking forward to writing this story,” she admitted, much to his surprise.

  “We’re writing,” Knox felt compelled to point out. “We’re writing this story.”

  “About that…” She winced. “Just exactly how are we supposed to do this story? I’ve always worked alone—I’ve never collaborated on an article before.”

  �
��Neither have I,” Knox confessed. “I suppose we should just toss out ideas until the right one fits and go from there.”

  “What if we don’t agree? What if you don’t like my ideas and I don’t like yours? Then what?”

  He shot her a look. “Sounds like you’ve already made up your mind to hate my ideas.”

  She grinned. “Well, of course.”

  Another laugh rumbled from his chest. “Don’t hold back, Savannah. Tell me how you really feel.” Knox sighed. “I don’t know. Let’s just cross that bridge when we come to it. We’re still a long way from putting pen to paper.”

  Savannah’s breath left her in a small whoosh and she pulled away from him and sat up. “I don’t know about you, but I’m tired and don’t feel like having anything else unblocked and aligned tonight.”

  “Nah, me neither.”

  Knox sat up as well. He snagged a pillow from the bed and found a spare blanket in the chest of drawers. Sleeping on the floor didn’t appeal to him whatsoever, but he’d made a great deal of progress with Savannah tonight and he didn’t want to jeopardize it by begging for a spot in the bed. He fixed his pallet on top of the floor pillows and gingerly lowered himself onto the lumpy makeshift bed.

  “G’night, Knox,” Savannah murmured.

  He smiled and glanced up at her. “Night.” See, he mentally telegraphed to her, see how damned sweet I can be? She turned off the light, plunging the room into darkness.

  He heard Savannah settle in and sigh with satisfaction. Knox twisted and turned, fluffed and flattened pillows. Hell, he’d be better off sleeping in the damned bathtub, he decided, after several failed attempts to get comfortable. He groaned miserably and rolled over again, this time cracking his elbow painfully against the wall.

  Savannah heaved a beleaguered breath. “Oh, for pity’s sake, Knox, just get in the bed.”

  He stilled. “Really?”

  “Yes,” she huffed. “I suppose if I can kiss you all day and eat from your fingers, I can stand to have you sleep beside me. Just stay on your side and keep your hands to yourself.”

  Knox happily hoisted himself from the lumpy pillows, trotted over to the bed and slid under the covers. He thought he heard Savannah whimper when his weight shifted the mattress.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  He felt her move onto her back. “I’m fine.” She paused. “Look, Knox, I’m used to sleeping alone, so I generally hog the whole bed. If I roll onto you, or crowd you, just shove me back onto my own side.”

  “Sure,” he said, mildly perplexed. Was she a thrasher or something? he wondered. “I’m used to sleeping alone, too. You do the same for me.”

  “I will.” Something ominous lurked in her tone.

  Knox smiled. “G’night, Vannah.”

  She rolled onto her side once more, giving him her back. “It’s Savannah,” she growled. “Now shut up so that I can get come sleep.”

  There’s my girl, Knox thought with a sleepy smile. His bitch was back. Funny, but she didn’t sound so tough anymore. Knox heard the fear and vulnerability behind the surly attitude. What would it take, he wondered, to make her lose that edge? To strip away the destructive defenses and build her back up with a more productive emotion?

  Knox didn’t know, but he was grimly determined to find out.

  8

  SAVANNAH AWOKE early in the exact position she’d feared she would—draped all over Knox.

  Presently her cheek lay cuddled up to his sinewy shoulder, her arm was anchored around his lean waist and she’d slung a thigh over his delectable rear. Jeez, even in her sleep she couldn’t resist him. Savannah knew that she should carefully extricate herself from him before he woke up and found her melted all over him, but she couldn’t summon the necessary actions to move away just yet.

  He felt…nice.

  His big, warm body threw off a heat like a blast furnace, chasing away the early morning chill. She breathed in a hint of woodsy aftershave and male, and the particular essence that was simply Knox, and felt a twine of heat curl though her belly, lick her nipples and settle in her sex.

  Savannah was accustomed to waking up hungry, but the appetite that plagued her this morning wouldn’t be satisfied with a mere muffin and a cup of coffee. She wanted an order of Knox with hot, sweaty sex on the side.

  On the side of the bed.

  On the side of the tub.

  Her side.

  His side.

  Inside or outside.

  Any side.

  She honestly didn’t care. Savannah bit back a groan of frustration. She was starving here, starving for him and the hunger had all but gotten the best of her.

  Savannah had set out on this confounded assignment against her will, wholly determined to resist Knox. She’d known that the story had immense potential, and she hadn’t underestimated her attraction, but she had underestimated Knox.

  He wasn’t the shallow, thoughtless, lazy playboy she’d forced herself to believe he was.

  Some innate sense of self-preservation had kicked in when she’d first met him, because her subconscious had recognized him as a potential threat to her heart. Savannah had looked at him and unfairly projected each and every one of Gib’s character flaws upon Knox.

  While the character flaws had been false, one glaring fact still remained—Knox still posed a threat to her heart. If she let down her guard one whit, Savannah knew Knox would burrow beneath her defenses, fasten himself onto that traitorous organ and, short of a transplant, she’d never get rid of him.

  He wouldn’t have a problem getting rid of her, though, Savannah thought with a bitter smile. No one ever did. That’s why, regardless of how charming and witty, how adorable and sweet—how sexy—he turned out to be, she had to keep things in perspective. Keep her defenses in place.

  They’d spent scarcely twenty-four hours together and, nerve-racking kisses and chronic masturbators aside, Savannah had had more fun in this single day with Knox than she’d had in years. He’d made her laugh, a rare feat. Sad, Savannah realized, but true. Given the opportunity, she wondered, what other rare feats could Knox facilitate? What other hidden talents did he have?

  He stirred beside her and Savannah tensed and held her breath, silently praying that he wouldn’t wake up and find her all but planting a flag in his groin. He didn’t. But to Savannah’s immense pleasure and frustration, he wrapped his hand around hers and, murmuring nonsensical sounds, tugged her even closer than she’d been before. Her breasts were now completely flattened against his muscular back and, of course, reacted accordingly. They grew heavy with want and her nipples hardened into tight, sensitive peaks. Her clit throbbed a steady mantra of I’m ready! One clever touch, Savannah knew, and she’d shatter.

  Knox, damn him, was asleep, completely oblivious to her torture and exempt from his own.

  Well, Savannah thought, she could either lie there and simmer in her sexually frustrated misery, or she could get up and try to put a more productive spin on the morning. Breakfast would be served in the common room at eight, and another lecture—more erotic massage—would begin promptly at nine. This lecture in particular was supposed to be one of those graphic, hands-on demonstrations the Sheas’ brochures had promised and would segue into tomorrow’s Love His Lingam and Sacred Goddess Stimulation. Savannah both dreaded and looked forward to those lessons. She’d be less than honest if she didn’t admit to at least some morbid fascination.

  Besides, she liked to excel at everything and if she gleaned even the slightest knowledge on how to please a future lover—or please herself—then she’d leave this damned workshop better than she arrived.

  A careful look at the bedside clock told her that she and Knox needed to get the lead out. They’d only unblocked one chakra and had totally skipped her building-trust homework. Humiliation burned Savannah’s cheeks. Naturally she knew that she had certain trust issues—she’d never been in a relationship in her life that hadn’t ended in some form of disappointment. But she hadn’t real
ized the true extent of her distrust until yesterday. She’d been the only person in the entire class who’d flunked the “blind trust” test. The symbolism hadn’t been lost on her or, more embarrassingly, him.

  All she’d had to do was stand with her back to Knox, fall backward and let him catch her. Most couples had nailed it on the first try. She and Knox had attempted the exercise until the end of class and she still hadn’t gotten it. Edgar and Rupali had shared an enigmatic look, then instructed her and Knox to work on the exercise for homework.

  Quite frankly, Savannah didn’t give a rip what the Sheas or any of these other people here thought about her. Beyond this weekend she’d never see them again. But that wasn’t the case with Knox. She’d see him on a day-to-day basis and, during that idiotic test, she’d had the uneasy privilege of watching his emotions leap from teasing mockery to pity and, finally, to curiosity.

  It wouldn’t be enough that he knew she had trust issues—he was a journalist and would have to know why. If she wouldn’t tell him when he covertly interviewed her—and she had no doubt whatsoever that he would—he’d dig around until he raked up every bit of her unfortunate past. She inwardly shuddered with dread.

  She’d become a story, Savannah realized, an exposé, and Knox, despite his laid-back attitude, was nothing short of a bloodhound when he caught the scent of a story. He’d use his particular brand of talent to unearth every unpleasant aspect of her past and he’d pull one of his legendary show-and-tell tactics on her. While she’d love to play a little show-and-tell with him, she didn’t want it to have anything to do with her private life.

  Despite her present predicament with Chapman, Savannah had a good reputation at the Phoenix. She’d worked hard to garner the respect of her peers, and if Knox used his trademark talent on her, she’d have to watch that respect become tempered with pity.

  She would not be anyone’s object of pity.

  Savannah was wondering what tack she should take when Knox abruptly stirred once more. He stretched beside her, yawned, and she knew the exact instant when he awakened and the full realization of their position registered, because he grew completely still. Then he abruptly relaxed and she didn’t have to see his face to know that he undoubtedly wore a cat-in-the-cream expression.