Page 52 of Knot Beneath the Mistletoe

“Just honest. I like seeing you passionate.”

“What about you?” I ask, trying to ignore how that simple touch makes my skin buzz. “Always going to be a mountain guide when you’re in Whispering Grove?”

Something dark flashes across his face.

“Thinking about it. It gets me into the outdoors, and it’s a great way to meet new people. Besides, after my parents passed away...” He pauses, jaw tight. “It gave me some perspective on what really matters.”

I reach across the table without thinking, covering his hand with mine. He turns his palm up, interlacing our fingers. I remember him telling me about them back in the mountains, but it doesn’t make it just as sorrowful hearing it a second time.

The waiter arrives with our next course—perfectly seared duck breast with cherry reduction—and I welcome the distraction. As I eat, I’m increasingly aware of every little thing. The way Knox’s legs brush mine or his fingers graze against my hand when he reaches for his whiskey glass, how his gaze follows my movements. And the heat building under my skin that has nothing to do with the fireplace or the wine.

“Tell me about the bar’s regulars,” Knox says, cutting into his duck. “I bet you have some characters.”

I launch into stories about Old Joe, who claims he once wrestled a bear, and Martha, who knits beer cozies for everyone at Christmas. Every time he leans forward, his scent covers me, and I’m buzzing with the excitement of being out to dinner with him.

By the time dessert arrives—some elaborate chocolate creation with gold leaf—I’m having trouble focusing on anything but him. How his hands dwarf the delicate dessert fork. The slight stubble darkening his jaw that I desperately want to feel against my skin.

“You’ve gone quiet,” he observes, his voice low and intimate. His foot finds mine under the table again, and the simple contact sends sparks up my leg.

“Just... thinking.” I take another sip of my wine, trying to cool down, but it’s not helping. My dress feels too tight, the room too warm, every nerve ending hypersensitive.

“About?” His thumb strokes over my knuckles, and I realize he’s been holding my hand across the table. When did that happen?

“About how this doesn’t feel real.” The words tumble out. “About how you look at me like... like...”

“Like you’re mine?” The possessiveness in his voice makes me shiver. “Like I’ve been waiting for you without even knowing it?” He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my pulse point. “Like I’m falling for you while still getting to know you?”

The words wrap around me, and a smile tugs at my lips at hearing his confession. At the acknowledgment that I’m not too far from feeling the same way.

Combined with his touch, his scent, and the way he’s looking at me like he wants to devour me whole—it’s too much. My skin feels like it’s on fire, every breath carrying his scent deeper into my lungs until I’m dizzy with it.

“I need air,” I gasp, pushing back from the table. “Please, I just… I need to get outside.”

The concern in Knox’s eyes is immediate. He’s on his feet in seconds, throwing down what has to be an obscene amount of money, his hand steady at my back as he guides me toward the door. Outside, the cold air covers like a blessing. I kick off my shoes without thinking, letting my feet sink into the snow.

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks, but his tone says he knows exactly what’s wrong.

“You have no idea,” I gasp, my cheeks burning. My heat has to be close. There’s no other explanation for how intensely I’m reacting to him.

“Oh, I think I know exactly what you need, pretty girl.” He takes my hand, along with picking up my shoes, and walks me to our sky lift as it arrives. The moment we’re inside and moving, he pulls me against him. “Let me help you.”

His mouth finds mine, and this time, there’s nothing gentle about it. It’s all possession and need, his hands roaming my body like he owns it. Maybe he does. Maybe he always has.

“Once an Alpha claims you, you’re lost,”my mother’s voice whispers.

For the first time in my life, I think… fucking good.

His mouth claims mine with barely any control, his body pressed against mine. One hand cradles my face while the other spans my lower back, pulling me closer. The sky lift sways gently as it descends, but all I can focus on is Knox’s touch, the way his thumb traces my jawline, how his fingers flex against my spine.

“Do you want to slow down?” he whispers against my lips, but his actions betray his words as he pulls me even closer.

“Don’t,” I murmur, surprising myself. “Please don’t stop.”

A growl rumbles through his chest, and his kisses grow deeper, more demanding. His hand slides into my hair, tugging gently to angle my head just how he wants it as his mouth finds the tenderness of skin beneath my ear.

Those lips. That tongue. I moan, losing my mind.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he says, voice rough.

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