Page 23 of Knot Your Business

He pulls away just long enough that I can suck in a breath. I grab his thighs, squeezing in silent permission, and he groans. His scent surrounds us, a cocoon that has my heart settling even as it races in my ears from my arousal. I tighten my hold on his legs and relax my jaw. His growl is low, his teeth clenched hard enough that a muscle ticks in his cheek.

I run my palms along his calves and then back up, keeping the touch light and teasing.

He breaks. He takes a half step into me, forcing my back against the car door, as he adjusts his grip on my hair. His thrusts turn brutal, hardly allowing me the chance to breathe, but I keep relaxed against him. My jaw aches, and my eyes water, but neither eclipse the deep satisfaction of knowing I am the one doing this with him. He could have anyone, and he’s with me.

The thought is enough to pull a moan from my chest.

Rylan grunts and then curses, the warning coming nearly too late for me to prepare. The salty tang of his cum on my tongue triggers an involuntary swallow, pushing his dick deeper.

“Ah fuck,” Rylan hisses.

Eleven

RYLAN

My knees are still fucking shaking as Jasper pops off my dick and tucks it back away, careful of the jeans’ zipper. His rising from kneeling is just as graceful as his drop into it. My stomach tightens, desire shooting through my still-buzzing veins.

Hell, it’s been six fucking months. Six months, and it still feels like the first time. Every time he touches me, kisses me, fucks me, it’s like the first time all over again—new and thrilling and fulfilling in a way I’ve never experienced before. His lips are soft against mine, his smile radiant as I pull away from him. The purr starts, low in my chest, and I don’t fight it as I wrap my arms around his waist and pull him against me.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear before his tongue traces the snakes on my neck.

I grunt and pull away from him. “We can’t have round two right now.”

As much as I’d enjoy it. We’ve christened just about every corner of this place—and the cars, too. Jasper in a car is my favorite, I think. The confined space makes him even more desperate. I clear my throat and lace my hand in his even as I take another step away.

His sigh is wistful, but his smirk tells me it’s not actually disappointment he feels. I shake my head and laugh before pulling him across the garage and into the house. Dominic’s leaning against the island in the kitchen, poring over his phone. His black suit sits in stark contrast to the white of the cabinets and near-white of the counters. His gaze flicks up as we approach.

His silence as we near is more disconcerting than if he started spouting off curses in Italian. Dominic swearing means he’s still listening to reason. Dominic silent? He’s moved from ideas to action.

I drop my bag to the ground at my feet, keeping the island between us. My wire is razor thin right now, and Dominic and me fighting stresses Jasper out. The envelope blends into the counter, but it still feels out of place, like there’s a giant spotlight on it demanding all of us acknowledge it.

“You want to do it?” Jasper asks, resting his head on his palms, his elbows on the counter.

He’s taken up the side of the island between Dominic and me, and all the carefree joy he’d coaxed out of us both only a few minutes ago is gone. His eyes are tired, his shoulders tense, his lips twisted in worry. Worry over who the Council picked? Or whether Dominic will honor what he said in the fall? It better not be worry over whether or not he’ll still have a place with us. We’ve spent the last six months proving that he’s ours. No Omega will ever change that.

“Rylan?”

I pull myself from my thoughts and grab the envelope, ripping open the seal and dropping the packet of information onto the table. A small picture falls free from the rest of the papers, sliding across the island toward Jasper and Dominic, twisting so perfectly I’m half-convinced there’s a magnet in it somewhere that’s forcing its movements.

The black hair and smirk of a smile hit me in the chest, as strong as one of Dominic’s punches. My knees buckle again, and I grab the counter. She’s in a graphic tee in the photo, the album logo one I immediately recognize—The Script is one of my favorite bands. Her skirt flares away from her, landing mid-thigh. She’s fucking gorgeous. A sick sense of excitement floods me. My dick’s instantly hard, the remembered honeysuckle scent flashing through me like a damn aphrodisiac.

I’m going to get to fuck her again.

Probably. I’m probably going to get to fuck her again.

Jasper’s gone pale, his hands trembling where they trace the edges of the photograph. Emotion wells in his eyes, so strong and consuming, it feels like I’ve been hit with it, too. Longing. Fear. And maybe, just maybe, some hope.

She’s the fucking Omega. The raw confession from last week lingers unspoken, but it’s practically shouting in my mind.

He’s never talked about her, no more than that first night when I asked about the necklace. I’ve never pushed. He’s here with me now. If he doesn’t want to divulge previous relationships, that’s his choice. I close the distance between us, running my hand along his shoulder before palming his neck. He glances away from the picture of Violet, and my breath catches.

“You all right?” I ask.

His throat moves with his swallow as he thinks over whatever he wants to say.

“Non importa,” Dominic mutters, gruff. He’s rifling through the paperwork, not looking at either of us. And certainly not the photo of Violet.

Jasper scowls and turns away from me. “What do you mean it’s not important?”

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