Page 45 of Knot Your Business

"I'm tested and negative. And I have an IUD."

This is not something we should be negotiating while her legs are twined around my hips and her hands are scraping down the nape of my neck. But hell if I can find it in myself to care at the moment. I’ve ached for her for four years, and I am not the type of man to have the control needed to slow us down right now.

She kicks the door to her room closed as I pass over the threshold, dropping the room into near darkness, only the light of a walkway lamp outside her window offering any kind of illumination. It gilds her skin, coaxing out the beautiful warm tones of it, and sets her eyes aglow. My chest swells as I kneel beside the bed, cushioning her as she drops onto it in front of me. Her thighs bracket my shoulders, and suddenly I'm twenty-one and in a completely different bedroom.

I force a swallow and breathe through my nose to keep my reaction in check. Reliving those moments won't help us now, won't change what's happened, won't allow us to move forward with whatever might develop between us at this moment in time. Her eyes narrow and her lips purse, a thoughtful look flashing across her features. I palm her thighs, running my hands along them, feeling her soft curves through the fabric of her leggings. She cups my cheeks before I can reach for the waistband and tips my face toward her, pulling me into her embrace as she kisses me.

This kiss is slow and searching, none of the white-hot demand of just a minute ago. Like she knows where my mind went. The thought soothes me. Even after all these years, she knows me—knows how much regret and turmoil I still carry over what happened, knows how visceral those memories are for me. Her tongue dances with mine, exploring and inquisitive, and I offer her everything I have. When our breathing is ragged and I'm drowningin honeysuckle, she pulls away and presses her forehead to mine, her eyes still closed.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'm so sorry, Jas."

I push her back onto the bed and grab the waistband of her leggings.

Twenty-One

VIOLET

He still uses the same breath mints.

The cool tang of them makes my lips tingle as I drop back onto the bed and Jasper peels my underwear down my legs. My body burns with need, my nipples tight and slick coating my thighs. The moment he’s dropped my panties to the ground beside him, I press up onto my elbows, not wanting to miss a moment of this—and find his eyes focused on my core. The floral feel of my scent surrounds us, seeping into every part of the room. His hands run up my thighs again, his calluses catching on the sensitive skin. I suck in a breath to keep from gasping, but I can't quite manage to keep my hips from pushing up toward his touch. His lips twitch into a near-invisible smirk.

"Jas, please," I whisper.

Now that I've let the nickname slip from between my lips, I can't seem to keep it in. Not that I'm honestly trying right now.The need for him burns hot as an open flame in my core, and I can feel another rush of slick coat me. His touch is soft, delicate, along the sensitive line where my hips meet my thighs, and I squirm, trying to move him where I want him—where I needhim.

I haven't craved someone so intensely without the added force of my heat in years. Since the last time I was with Jasper, if I'm being honest. How can he work me so thoroughly, make my body sing like this, without being an Alpha?

I press my hips into his hands harder, whining.

"Yeah, okay," he mumbles, blowing out a breath. He runs a thumb over my core, barely brushing my clit. This time, I can't hold back the gasp. "Just trying to not fucking come in my pants like I'm seventeen again."

My belly clenches, desire ratcheting even higher at the admission. Nothing quite compares to knowing you affect a lover so intensely. If I'm at the mercy of his touch and body and voice, then he's just as equally affected by me. What a beautiful thing to share.

He pushes forward, planting his arms on the outside of my thighs and pinning my hips in place. My head falls back on a moan with the first swipe of his tongue.

“Violet,” he groans. He traces me again, his tongue soft and searching, almost mirroring the kiss. Like he’s reacquainting himself with this part, too, trying to find the ways I’ve changed and all the ways I haven’t.

I press up into him, trying to urge him faster, but he brackets my hips and forces me still.

“Let me enjoy it,” he growls, lifting his head just enough that I can see my slick coating his chin.

I flush but nod, and he smirks.

Enjoy it, he does.

I lose track of time, my body going boneless under him even as it tightens with need, the arousal so strong it’s damn near painful. My moans devolve into whines and then half-voiced whimpers. All at once, he spears into me with two fingers, curling them with a timing that would make a god weep.

I arch and cry out, my orgasm lashing like lightning, shooting down my spine and through my legs until I’m a shaking mess.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” I mutter, my chest heaving. He softens his touch before pulling away entirely. His face is soaked with my slick and his eyes dance with pride.

“I missed that,” he murmurs before wiping his arm across his mouth.

I reach for him, pulling him over me.

“I need you,” I gasp, biting at the skin of his throat.

He shudders out a breath, his hands twisting into my hair. “You’ll have me, love.”

---