Page 153 of Knot Your Fated M.U.S.E.

The air shifts as we cross the threshold into the bedroom, the soft rustle of curtains brushing against the window the only sound besides the faint hum of my breathing. The bed looms ahead, a plush oasis that suddenly feels far too inviting.

My pulse quickens as he guides me to it, his hand firm but comforting on my lower back.

I lower myself onto the mattress, the cool sheets a contrast to the heat that still lingers on my skin.

Atlas steps back slightly, watching as I inch back toward the headboard, my hands finding purchase on the pillows that await me. The movement feels vulnerable, and exposed, and yet I can’t look away from him. He slowly unwraps the towel from his waist and drops it to the floor.

He stands before me, utterly bare, and I can’t help but drink him in.

The powerful lines of his body, the way his muscles flex and shift beneath his skin, the scars that map his journey—it all feels overwhelming in its perfection.

My gaze trails lower, lingering on his shaft, and my lips part slightly in surprise.

He’s massive.

I’ve seen Alphas at the lab before, their crude displays as they shamelessly jerked themselves off in front of us Omegas, claiming it was a “blessing” for us to witness.

It was degrading and vile, meant to remind us of their power, their supposed superiority. But this? This is nothing like that.

Atlas doesn’t carry himself with arrogance.

There’s no mockery in his stance, no need to dominate through humiliation. He stands there, strong and sure, letting me take him in without rushing me, his confidence quiet but unshakable.

It’s ironic, really. The Alphas in the lab thought their displays were something we should revere. But now, faced with a trueAlpha who carries none of that ego, I finally understand what they’ll never be.

Atlas is more of an Alpha in his quiet reverence than they could ever hope to be in their blustering cruelty.

He climbs onto the bed, moving slowly, giving me time to adjust to his approach.

I can’t help the way my tongue darts out to wet my bottom lip, and I notice the way his eyes follow the movement, darkening slightly. My heart stutters in my chest as he reaches me, his body hovering over mine, the heat of him brushing against my skin without fully touching me.

And then he kisses me.

It’s not the rushed, demanding kiss I might have expected. It’s long and deep, his lips moving against mine with a purpose that feels almost reverent. Time seems to stretch and bend around us, the world outside fading into insignificance.

There’s only him, only this moment, and the realization hits me with a startling clarity.I have all the time in the world with him. We can make love all night if we want to, and Atlas will make it feel like it’s the only thing that matters.

His lips leave mine, trailing down to my neck, where he presses open-mouthed kisses along my skin.

Each one feels like a brand, a mark of something far deeper than possession. He lingers at the curve of my shoulder, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before sucking lightly.

I gasp, my back arching slightly, and he chuckles softly against me.

His mouth moves lower, finding the swell of my breasts. His hands follow, calloused fingers grazing the sensitive peaks before his lips close around one nipple.

The heat of his mouth sends a jolt of pleasure through me, and I can’t stop the moan that escapes my lips. He alternatesbetween gentle sucks and light flicks of his tongue, each movement drawing me closer to the edge of reason.

"Atlas," I moan, my hands gripping the sheets as he teases me. The sensation is almost too much, a high I never expected could feel so defining.

Slick pools between my legs, my arousal unmistakable, and I feel it dripping along my folds, adding to the heat building between us.

He switches to my other breast, giving it the same attention, and I writhe beneath him, my body completely at his mercy. The stimulation is incredible, a crescendo of sensation that leaves me gasping for air. I can see now why sex is often described as an addictive act—this is only the beginning, and I’m already desperate for more.

But this isn’t the main course. Not yet.

Atlas’s hands slide down my sides, his touch deliberate and steady as he trails kisses along my abdomen.

He doesn’t stop until he’s settled between my legs, his broad shoulders nudging them apart. My cheeks burn as I realize how exposed I am, but his expression is anything but judgmental.

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