Page 61 of Break Me Knot

And I am that worshipper.

I’ll pray at her altar for the rest of my life.

She squirms under my intense gaze, a whimpered “please” falling from her lips, and I realize I've been staring too long, drinking in the sight of her. I won’t make her wait any longer.

I lean closer, letting my hot breath ghost over her center, watching as she shivers in anticipation. “Going to give you so much pleasure, Little One.”

My hands gently press her thighs apart, making space for my shoulders between them. I drag my tongue up the inside of her thigh, collecting the sweet nectar of her arousal. Her taste explodes across my palate. I flatten my tongue against hercore, taking a long, slow lick that makes her gasp and arch. Her taste is addictive. I’m never going to get enough. I lap at her entrance, coating my tongue with her slick, before moving up to circle her clit. Each pass of my tongue draws little whimpers and moans that go straight to my cock.

When she starts squirming under my mouth, I gently pin her hips, holding her steady so I can properly worship her pearl. I seal my lips around her clit and suck gently, reveling in the way she cries out.

Sliding two fingers into her core, I groan at how perfectly she takes me. Her inner walls flutter around my digits, hot and silky. I curl my fingers, searching for that spot that will make her see stars, while maintaining the steady suction on her clit. The combination of my fingers gliding in and out while I work her with my tongue has her trembling, her thighs quivering against my shoulders.

This is easily the most erotic thing I've ever experienced, my beautiful omega spread out before me, accepting my touch, my worship. Pride swells in my chest at being able to pleasure her like this, at being the one to show her how good touch can be.

When her climax hits, it's glorious. Her inner muscles clamp down on my fingers as waves of pleasure roll through her. I don't let up, drawing out her orgasm with gentle suction and curling fingers until she's shaking and limp.

Only then do I gather her into my arms, lifting her slight weight easily. I settle into the chair with her in my lap and arrange one of the fluffy blankets Cole placed over the back of the armchair—and in every damn room in the penthouse, for that matter—across the both of us. Her trust in this moment is the greatest gift she could give me.

I tighten my arms around her and inhale our mixed scents, so perfect together. Having her safe and sated in my arms iseverything. She presses her nose into my scent gland as she drifts into sleep. My purr is a steady rhythm that matches her peaceful breathing. We’ve both crossed a line we can’t come back from.

She’s not going anywhere.

She mine to protect.

Mine to cherish.

Mine to put on a pedestal to worship each and every day and remind her of the goddess she is.

Later, we'll deal with her withdrawal symptoms, with her past, with everything else, but this moment—her trust, her pleasure, her peaceful sleep—I will treasure forever.

I close my eyes and rest my head back against the armchair, grateful for my omega in my arms, her flavor on my tongue and for the chance of fate that brought her to us.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Cole

The cursor on my screen blinks accusingly as my thoughts drift to Mira. Yet again. My head conjures up in multi-dimensional color her haunted eyes, the way she flinches at sudden movements, how painfully thin she is. My fingers trace my pack bond mark linking me to Zane and Adrian, guilt churning in my stomach. I should have been there during her heat, should have helped my brothers care for her. Instead, I’m a coward who ran, haunted by Lily's ghost.

Your touch brings death.

I can almost taste her scent drifting through meters of thick concrete from the penthouse above us while I sit in my office chair, my thoughts reminding me of every reason I can’t have her. I slam my laptop shut and stare out the window at the snow-covered city below. The sky is gray and sleet continues to fall the way it has done most of the morning. The sound echoes through my office, matching the turmoil in my chest.

Adrian and Zane are so good with her, so naturally protective and nurturing. And I... I can barely stay in the same room without drowning in memories of Lily. In the devastating knowledge that my presence somehow contributed to her death.

Logically I know that Mira isn't Lily. Adrian and Zane have told me often enough that Lily’s death wasn’t my fault. Hells, they even had Dr. Maverick pull her death report for me to read. I know I’m not to be blamed in any way, but it doesn’t stop the guilt.

Guilt upon guilt upon guilt.

I burn for my scent-matched omega.

The lonely, vulnerable woman fate forgot.

My cowardice hurts not only her but my bond brothers who are completely besotted. They'll want to complete the bond, when she's ready. When she’s open to trust. However long that will take, they’ll wait. The thought fills me with equal parts of longing and terror. My instincts rage at my self-imposed distance, demanding I protect, claim, cherish.

But my fear is stronger.

A knock on my open door startles me from my dark thoughts. Zane saunters into my office, wearing that shit-eating grin that makes my gut twist because I know exactly who put it there. Her scent, one I would recognize anywhere, clings to him and my cock stirs at even this faint trace.

---