Page 34 of Knot My Luck

What if?—

Fuck. My panties.

How much slick can they hold? The traitorous throb between my thighs is already telling menot enough. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to breathe through my mouth, desperate to keep my scent locked down, desperate to ignore the way my body is reacting to him.

His grip on my waist is firm, steady, as he guides me through the slow rhythm of the music. I hate that he still knows exactly how to move me. Hate the way my skin remembers his touch like a song I never forgot the words to.

“I’ve been searching for you for hours,” Cathal says, his voice softer now, more intimate. His dark hair is a little tousled, his suit perfect, his blue eyes too fucking knowing. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

I focus on a point over his shoulder, refusing to look at him. Refusing to let him see the war raging inside me.

“I didn’t know you’d be here either,” I mutter, barely managing to keep my voice even.

“But I’m so glad you are,” he whispers, his breath warm against my cheek. His fingers flex slightly against my waist, just for a second. Just enough to send a jolt of heat down my spine. “You look…” His voice thickens, his gaze dipping to my lips before dragging lower, over the curve of my dress. “Stunning. So different, and yet exactly the same somehow. Why does it feel like a lifetime and no time at all has passed?”

My stomach twists violently.

“Don’t…” The word slips out before I can stop it, sounding a lot more heartbroken than I intended.

Cathal’s grip tightens, his thumb pressing just slightly into my hip. “Don’t what?”

I snap my gaze to his, the full force of my rage coiling tight in my chest. “Don’t do this. Don’t act like—like you can just walk in and?—”

“And what?” His voice dips, something raw bleeding into it. “Tell you how beautiful you are? How sorry I am? How much I fucking miss you? Because you are, I am, and I do.”

A sharp, disbelieving laugh bubbles up in my throat, but I bite it back.You don’t get to miss me. You don’t get to stand here, looking at me like that, like I’m the best thing you ever lost.

Like it wasn’t your fucking choice.

I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches, the heat of frustration, anger,wanttangling in my ribs. My hands are shaking. My pulse is racing. My body – mystupid fucking body– is sweating with nerves, anxiety, and possibly another heat spike.

I don’t want this.

I don’t want him.

I want to get through this night unseen, unnoticed,untouched.

But then he freezes.

His fingers go rigid against my waist. His breath stutters.

And I know.

My stomach plummets.

He scents me.

The shift is instant. Devastating.

His pupils blow wide, black swallowing blue, and his lips part slightly as he inhales again – deeper this time, like hecan’t help himself.

Fuck.

I see the exact moment it hits him. The moment heunderstands.

His throat bobs. He licks his lips. Takes a slow step closer.

“Devlin,” he breathes, voice dark and stunned.

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