Page 61 of Knotting With A Stranger

Archer’s smile turns wicked. “I dare you to kiss Hunter. Not a peck—full-on, with tongue.”

I laugh nervously. “Is this high school?”

“Do it!” Archer insists.

I look around at their faces—Archer grinning expectantly, James frowning slightly, Hunter stretching his neck with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty.

Then I’m staring at James, the bridge of his now pinched, jawline tight. Part of me wants to make him hurt for lying to me.

“Sure,” I say with forced casualness, setting down my drink and turning to Hunter.

He’s sitting next to me on the couch, his large frame suddenly very close. I turn toward him, hesitating as a thought strikes me.

“The photo upstairs of your grandfather and my grandmother...” I gnaw on my lower lip nervously. “Do you think... are we related?” I cringe as soon as the words leave my mouth.

Hunter reaches over and gently pushes a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my skin. “I bet my life on it that we’re not. My grandfather shared a lot with me, and he had one love in his life—my grandma—and a lot of business friends. He’s more likely an investor in her bakery.”

I glance at the other two, who study our exchange with curious expressions.

“Nothing wrong with kissing cousins… relatives,” Archer teases with a smirk.

“Fuck you,” Hunter barks, but his hand is already on my arm, pulling me closer, tugging me onto his lap.

I use the momentum to straddle him, finding a surprising amount of bravery for something I want despite the trembling in my limbs.

“Of course,” I laugh nervously. “I mean, if we were siblings, we’d know, and hell no to kissing...”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his knuckles down my cheek in a gesture that’s both reassuring and possessive. There’s still darkness in his words, in his eyes, and part of me isn’t entirely certain. If this comes back to bite me, I’ll be devastated to discover I’m attracted to my brother or cousin or whatever.

“Don’t overthink it,” he murmurs, pulling me closer. “Deep breaths, okay?”

My confidence falters. What am I doing? This isn’t me—I don’t straddle near-strangers for dares. But before I can retreat, Hunter’s large hands come up to cup my face, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone so strong.

He leans in slowly, giving me every opportunity to back away. When I don’t, his lips meet mine with the gentlest pressure. The kiss starts soft, exploratory, as if we’re finding our way to each other through darkness. His lips are warmer and softer than I expected, moving against mine with restrained passion.

Then something shifts. Hunter makes a low, growly sound in the back of his throat, and suddenly, the kiss deepens. His hands slide from my face to my waist, then to my back, pulling me closer against him. My body responds instinctively, curving into his, a small sound—embarrassingly close to a purr—escaping my throat.

No one has ever kissed me like this before. It’s consuming, elemental, like being caught in a riptide. His tongue traces the seam of my lips, and I open to him without hesitation. The taste of whiskey and chocolate mingles between us as his tongue strokes against mine, confident but not demanding.

His hands span my back, pressing me closer until I can feel the solid wall of his chest against mine. Beneath me, I can feel his hardening cock, his hips shifting subtly upward. He’s massive everywhere, and the realization sends a jolt of electricity down my spine.

One of his hands tangles in my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss further. The gentle tug against my scalp draws another sound from me, half-gasp, half-moan. I’m floating, drowning, burning—all at once. My fingers grip his shoulders, feeling the coiled strength beneath his Henley, then slide up to the nape of his neck, where his hair curls against my fingertips.

His mouth moves against mine, his hand lowering to my ass, holding on tight. The heat of him beneath me, the woodsy scent of him filling my lungs with each ragged breath. It feels both endless and too brief. I don’t want it to end.

Someone clears his throat loudly, followed by a nudge against Hunter’s shoulder, shaking us. Hunter and I part reluctantly, both breathing heavily. I lick my lips instinctively, tasting him still, while his gaze tracks the movement with a craving that makes me shiver.

“Fuck, you’re addictive,” Hunter murmurs. “Like the kind of candy that ruins a man—sweet, sinful, and impossible to quit.”

Slowly, I become aware of the room around us again. Archer stares at me, his earlier playfulness replaced by something darker, more primal. James’s eyes burn with what looks distinctly like jealousy, his jaw tight and his shoulders tense. The energy in the room has shifted dramatically, a palpable current of desire that makes the air feel thick and charged.

I remain on Hunter’s lap for a moment longer, acutely aware of his arousal pressed against me, twitching, and his hands tight on my waist. His gaze has darkened to the color of amber in shadow, pupils blown wide. He looks like he wants to devour me whole.

“Well,” I finally manage. “That was... something.”

“Something is one word for it,” Archer murmurs, shifting in his seat.

I slowly extricate myself from Hunter’s lap, my legs embarrassingly unsteady as I settle back onto the couch beside him. His hand lingers on my thigh for a moment before reluctantly withdrawing.

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