Page 1 of Hard Knot

Prologue: Heated Turbulence

~ELIZABETH~

“Don’t you dare go into Heat on this plane, Abercrombie!”

Holmes hisses, his voice low but sharp enough to pierce the claustrophobic tension in the tiny airplane bathroom. His breath is hot against my neck, while my hands are still pressed on top of his eyes, as if to stop him from seeing my body, when he’s honestly seen me butt naked after these last chaotic weeks of utter madness.

All of this is an atrocity of absolute chaos.

“Then stop touching me!” I snap back, though my voice trembles more than I’d like.

Stop touching me? As if Holmes would ever listen to a damn order I’d give him.

He’s far too cocky and ruthless for that shit.

Like listening to anyone’s opinion or request.

Holmes doesn’t even pretend to heed my warning.

Instead, his hips press harder against mine, his groin grinding against my soaked panties with deliberate precision.The scent-blocking material isn’t doing shit at this point. I’ve soaked through them so thoroughly that they’re ineffective in being a savior in this unexpected situation.

Hell, it’s contributing to my obvious demise here.

I bite back a moan, and I have to move my hands from his face so my nails can dig into the cheap plastic wall behind me, instead of into his flesh. Anything to try to anchor myself and not use him as a form of stability.

His lips quirk into a smug smirk, that infuriating one he always wears when he knows he’s in control.And God, I hate him for it.Hate how he always gets under my skin, how his scent—a maddening mix of cedar and spice—is making my head spin.

Hate that, no matter how much I despise him, my body doesn’t seem to care.

“I’m not the one dripping slick, my Rebellious Sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with mockery and a dark edge that sends a shiver down my spine. “Your body seems to like my touch just fine.”

I glare at him, wishing I could wipe that smug look off his face.

“You’re an ass,” I hiss, but the insult loses its bite when my breath hitches, his thigh pressing against me in a way that makes my knees buckle.

“And you’re a brat,” he shoots back, his lips curling into something too predatory to be a smile. “But that doesn’t seem to stop you from grinding against me like you want more.”

God, I do hate him.

Hate how he’s standing so close…

How his heat and scent are making my Omega instincts scream at me to submit.

Despise how every breath I take is filled with him, drowning me in something I can’t escape.

My body is betraying me, inching closer to the edge of Heat with every second we’re trapped in this suffocatingly small space. It spikes my anxiety to peak levels, bringing about memories I’ve spent years trying to forget.

“This isn’t happening,” I mutter, mostly to myself, trying to will the fire coursing through me to die down. “This can’t be happening.”

“Agreed,” he says, but his hands betray him, gripping my hips with bruising force. His lips hover over mine, his breath mingling with mine in the scant inches between us. “So why aren’t you stopping me?”

“Why aren’t you stopping yourself?” I fire back, my voice sharper than I feel.

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t even try.

Instead, he closes the distance, his mouth crashing into mine with a ferocity that knocks the air from my lungs. His kiss is angry, almost punishing, like he hates me as much as I hate him.

And maybe he does.

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