Page 65 of Knotting With A Stranger

The words send a fresh wave of heat through me, pooling low in my belly and making me throb with want. When our mouths meet again, the kiss is hungry, almost desperate. His tongue strokes against mine in a way that replicates what he wants to do to me, and I tighten my legs around him involuntarily.

Archer carries me from the wall to the bed, never breaking the kiss. He lowers me gently onto the mattress, following me down until he’s hovering above me, his weight supported on his forearms. His hair falls around my face like a curtain.

Thor hops off the bed and trots right next to the door, where he flops down and falls back asleep..

Archer’s body fits perfectly against mine, his hips nestled between my thighs. He rocks against me, slow and deliberate, creating a friction that has me gasping into his mouth. One of his hands slides beneath the hem of my tank top, fingers splaying across my ribs, his thumb brushing the underside of my breast.

I arch into his touch, moaning, eager for more, but some last shred of sanity manages to break through the fog of desire. This is too much, too fast, too complicated. I place a hand on his chest, gently pushing.

“Wait,” I say softly, my breathing still uneven.

He freezes instantly, then pulls back enough to look into my face. “Everything okay?” There’s genuine concern in his gaze, no hint of frustration or disappointment.

“I just… I can’t do this. Not tonight. Not with everything...” I gesture vaguely, unable to articulate the chaotic tangle of emotions I’m feeling.

For a moment, I think he might try to persuade me, but instead he presses a last, gentle kiss to my lips before sitting back on his heels.

“Rejection,” he sighs dramatically, hand to his chest as if mortally wounded. “My one weakness.”

Despite everything, I laugh. “You’ll survive, I’m sure.”

“Will I, though?” he asks, giving me an exaggerated pout. “I may need medical attention. CPR at the very least.” He leans closer. “I’ve heard mouth-to-mouth is most effective.”

I laugh, pointing to the door, but I’m smiling too hard for my action to have any bite.

He stands, smoothing his rumpled shirt, and gives me an exaggerated bow. “Whatever my lady desires.” As he straightens, his expression softens into something more genuine. “Lily, I haven’t felt like this for anyone else in... well, ever.”

The simple honesty in his voice catches me off guard, making my heart flutter.

“That’s just the whiskey talking,” I deflect, suddenly uncomfortable with the vulnerability between us.

“Nope,” he says, popping thepsound. “It’s all you. The whiskey just gave me the balls to admit it.” He moves backward toward the door, grinning. “Well, the drink and the knowledge that you’ve now kissed two-thirds of the household. I’m just evening the playing field.”

Is he actually keeping score? The thought should be ridiculous, but with Archer, I can never be too sure. His smirk is lazy, all effortless confidence, but there’s something sharp in his gaze, like he’s testing the waters, waiting to see how I’ll react.

I narrow my eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction. Dangerous territory.

“Goodnight, Archer,” I say, throwing a pillow at him that he snatches into his hand with infuriating grace.

“Sweet dreams.” He grabs the doorknob. “I know mine will be starring you in various states of undress.” With a last wink, he slips out, closing the door quietly behind him.

I flop back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, my lips tender from his kisses, my body still humming with unfulfilled desire. What the actual hell am I doing?

It’s like I’ve stepped into some alternate reality where I’m suddenly the kind of woman who does these things. The kind who straddles a near-stranger during a drinking game, who pulls another into her bedroom at the first hint of attraction. The kind who attracts god-like Alphas. I barely recognize myself.

And yet... I can’t bring myself to regret it. Not Hunter’s kiss that ruins me. Not confronting James about his deception. And certainly not how perfectly Archer’s body felt pressed against mine.

I press my fingers to my lips, remembering the different ways they kissed me—Hunter’s kiss starting gentle and building to something overwhelming, Archer’s kiss immediately desperate and consuming—and I wonder, against all better judgment, what James’s kiss would be like. Would it be calculated and controlled, like the man himself? Or would there be an unexpected wildness under that composed exterior?

The fact that I’m even thinking about this has me groaning and yanking a pillow over my face. This storm needs to break soon—before I do something truly reckless. As if falling for all three of them at once isn’t already dangerous enough.

My best friend, Ruby, ended up with three men, and I won’t lie—I was jealous when I found out. But what happens when the storm passes, the heat of the moment fades… and these mountain men I’m stuck with decide I was never meant to be theirs?

With the taste of Archer still on my lips and the memory of Hunter’s hands on my body, I know sleep is a lost cause tonight. I might as well start planning how I’m going to face them all at breakfast without spontaneously combusting from embarrassment.

Or worse, desire.

16

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