Page 4 of Knot My Luck

His words are a spark to dry tinder, setting me ablaze. Before I can think, my hands are on him, pulling him closer, desperate for the connection. My lips crash into his, fierce, frantic, and his response is instant – his mouth claiming mine with an urgency that takes my breath away. His tongue slides into my mouth, searching, demanding, and I melt into him, feeling the tension in his body as he holds me tighter, like he’s afraid I might slip away.

Somewhere behind us, a hotel door slams shut, but I’m too distracted to care. His hands glide down to my thighs, gripping them hard as he lifts me again, with no hesitation. My legs wrap around his waist as I fumble to open the door, and then he carries me through the open doorway, our bodies pressed together with such intensity it’s as if we can’t get close enough. His heart beats against mine, fast and wild, matching the frantic rhythm of my own pulse.

In the next instant, I’m pushed against the wall, his body pinning me in place. His lips leave mine only to trail down my neck, each kiss setting my skin on fire. He bites at the sensitive spot just below my ear, and I gasp, my head tilting back as my body arches into his. The need, the heat, the craving – it’s all-consuming, like nothing else matters except this.

“You’re mine tonight, Red,” he growls, the words more like a claim than anything else, and the sound of his voice sends a wave of heat rushing through me as he threads his fingers through my long auburn locks. Every inch of me is alive with anticipation, every nerve on edge. His hands slide up under my shirt, rough fingertips grazing the skin of my stomach, and I shiver, biting my lip to stifle the moan threatening to escape.

I pull at his shirt, impatient, desperate for more. “No more waiting,” I breathe, my voice hoarse.

His eyes darken even further, the raw intensity in them making my heart skip a beat. Without a word, he strips off his shirt in one smooth, confident motion, revealing a torso sculpted from strength and desire. His muscles ripple with each movement, hard lines and defined abs, the powerful curve of his chest rising and falling with the rush of his breath. The soft light catches the black tattoos that wind across his skin – intricate designs that speak of battles fought and promises made, a contrast to the flawless skin beneath them.

I can’t help but trace the outlines of the tattoos with my fingertips, following the patterns that wrap around his biceps and disappear beneath the waistband of his pants. Each mark tells a story, and I ache to learn them all, to feel the depth of what they represent. His skin is warm under my touch, smooth but taut, and my hands move slowly, memorising every inch, every ridge and dip of his chest.

I’m fucking lucky I’m slathered in scent neutraliser and taking suppressants which dull my sense of smell so that I can’tscentthis guy. I bet he’d smelldivine. Thankfully the suppressants I’m on also take care of my slick too, so that, paired with the dehydrating effects of all the alcohol I’ve consumed tonight, means we should be able to get through this night with him thinking I’m a beta with no issues.

His breath hitches as my fingers skim over the lines of ink, the art on his body, and I feel the tension between us shift. He watches me intently, his jaw clenched, as if he’s holding back a part of himself, yet I can sense the storm inside of him building, ready to break free.

I glance up, meeting his gaze again, and the smolder in his emerald eyes sends a shiver down my spine. There’s no going back now. The moment we’re in is everything, all-consuming, and I can’t pull away. His power, his control, it’s all wrapped up in every touch, every tattoo, every inch of his body. And I want all of it.

“I’m not waiting either,” he mutters, his voice a growl. His lips are on me again before I can catch my breath, kissing me hungrily, with a feverish intensity that makes everything inside me coil tighter. I can feel his desire, sharp and urgent, pressing against my belly, and it only makes my own need grow more frantic.

I tug at his pants, barely able to get the words out, “Please...now.”

He pulls back, eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and hunger. “You don’t have to beg,” he says, but the smirk is gone, replaced by something raw, something almost feral.

His lips hover just above mine, breath mingling, and for a moment, it feels like we’re suspended in time. The air between us crackles with raw energy, each of us holding on to something too powerful to let go of, but neither of us willing to be the first to break.

I can feel his heart pounding against my chest, matching mine, like it’s a signal, a language we both understand without words. His fingers trail down my side, sending shivers through me. There’s a heat building between us that’s impossible to ignore, but he’s holding back, just barely. The need to touch, to claim, to make this moment last, hangs in the balance.

“You’re dangerous,” I murmur, but the words feel charged, like they hold too much meaning.

His eyes darken further, and the almost imperceptible shift in his expression tells me everything I need to know. “You have no idea, cailín,” he growls, his lips brushing over my ear, the sound of his voice like a challenge.

I reach up, my hands trembling slightly as I touch the side of his face, tracing the sharp angles of his jaw, memorising the feel of him – alive and all-consuming. His breath catches again, and it’s enough to push me further, to pull more from this connection that’s growing between us.

His hands tighten on my waist, lifting me again, but this time, it’s not just about moving. It’s about positioning, claiming control of the space between us. His touch leaves a trail of fire on my skin as he drags his fingers back down, testing the limits of my patience. “I won’t hold back much longer,” he warns, his voice low, dangerous.

I meet his gaze, determination in my eyes. “Then don’t,” I taunt, my pulse quickening as the words escape me before I can even process them. “I can takeanythingyou’re willing to give.”

The tension snaps.

He flips me in a move that leaves me breathless, my back hitting the mattress before I can work out which way is up. His lips crash into mine, hungry, urgent, completely unrestrained this time, like he’s been waiting for this moment as much as I have.

The pressure between us grows, palpable, as his hands slide over my skin with an urgency that matches my own. His fingers find the edge of my skirt, pushing it up slowly, deliberately, as if savouring the moment, the anticipation. Each touch, each move, sends a jolt of electricity through me, making my breath catch in my throat.

He pauses, just for a moment, eyes dark with hunger, and then his lips are on me again. A searing kiss that doesn’t let up, as if he’s trying to drink me in. My body arches into him instinctively, the heat between us unbearable. His hands slide higher, fingertips brushing against the curve of my waist, and I gasp as he pulls my top over my head in one fluid motion.

There’s no hesitation as his hands find the lace of my bra, pushing it aside, freeing me completely. His touch is possessive, reverent, as if every inch of my skin is something he’s dreamed about, and I can’t stop the shiver that runs through me as his mouth moves lower, kissing a trail over my body.

I drown in the intensity of his gaze, before I feel the heat of his mouth against me, and it’s a moment of pure, unrelenting fire. He takes his time, worshipping every curve, every inch of me, as though I’m something he can’t get enough of. The roughness of his touch and stubble contrasts with the tenderness in his lips, and it only makes everything more electrifying.

My hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more. “Don’t stop,” I beg, breathless, my pulse racing in my ears. Every touch, every kiss, only builds the craving inside me, making me want him more, need him more, until I can’t think about anything else but him.

His eyes lock onto mine for a split second, intense, darkened to a forest green with the strength of his desire, and then he moves lower, each motion sending a shockwave through my body. Suddenly he’s between my thighs, staring at my thong which is soaked through.

“Fuck, Red. You’re dripping. Is this all for me?”

I have to lock down the urge to whimper, instead nodding and swallowing roughly.

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