Page 47 of Knot Giving Up 2

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Meggie

There’s another note on my pillow. I’ve gotten one every day since Harrison laid down his no touching decree—not that I’ve entirely stuck to that rule, but we’ve all been trying.

I’ve asked all the guys about the poems, but none of them have fessed up. I had no idea who was writing them until today. But now, I’m fairly sure it’s Dante.

I read it again, unable to get enough or suppress my giddy smile.

I want to picnic between your thighs

My breath, the wind,

your taste, the feast

I’ll dance my fingers across your skin

And open your basket with my teeth

With my tongue, I’ll catch every drop as you melt

I’ll drink

Intoxicated

Inebriated

Drunk on the one I hold dear

Meggie, omega, may I?

May I, omega, please?

Tingles flutter across my skin at the erotic words, even though I’ve read them so many times already. It’s Dante. I’m almost certain.

The rest of the team is already asleep, but Dante hasn’t come to bed yet. Unable to relax, I go looking for him and find him out on the balcony.

“Hey,” I say, pulling the sliding glass door closed behind me.

He’s leaning against the half wall of the balcony, staring out towards the grassy commons. He looks at me over his shoulder and smiles, then turns back to the view. I join him and take in the lovely sight of Paris at night.

A trio of athletes is taking an evening jog around the village and lights twinkle in the city beyond. Pretty as a postcard. I’m going to miss this view when it’s time to fly home.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Dante’s gaze is focused on the French skyline around us.

“Mmm,” I nod. “I wish my mom and sisters could be here and see this.”

Dante’s lips curl up, but he doesn’t look away from the scenery.

“Lily’s passport took so long to come in. By the time my mom could look at flights, all the hotels were booked, and flights were stupid expensive.”

“It would be nice to have them here for you. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

“She even looked at flights into England.” I laugh, remembering the picture of fifteen open browsers on my mom’s laptop as she checked airlines and discount sites. “Thinking they could get over to France from there, but they still couldn’t find anywhere to stay once they made it to Paris, so that was a bust.”

“I’m sure they love the photos and voice memos.” He gives me a slow smile.

I flash him a grin and slide my phone from my pocket. Cozying up next to him, I snap a selfie of the two of us.

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