Page 79 of Knotting With A Stranger

“Yes,” I gasp, the admission torn from somewhere deep and honest.

His hand slides under my tank top, calloused palm rough against the sensitive skin of my stomach. I suck in a breath as his fingers trace higher, brushing the underside of my breast.

I moan, desperate for him.

He groans, capturing my mouth again as his hand cups my breast fully, his thumb brushing across my nipple. Pleasure spirals through me, sharper and more intense than anything I’ve ever felt. Every nerve ending seems to have moved closer to the surface, every touch magnified beyond reason.

My hands fist in his shirt, tugging impatiently. “Off,” I demand. “Need to feel you.”

He pulls back just enough to yank his shirt over his head, revealing the muscles of his chest. I reach up immediately, fingers tracing the defined lines, exploring the dusting of sandy hair that narrows across his chest. He’s beautiful—all strength and burning hot, skin golden in the dim light. When my fingers reach the waistband of his jeans, he captures my wrist again.

“Slow down,” he says. “We have time.”

“It feels like we don’t,” I confess. “Like I’ll burn alive if you don’t touch me. All of me.”

The need is overwhelming, a physical ache that grows with each passing minute. My hips shift restlessly, seeking friction, release.

Hunter’s eyes darken further. “It might be more comfortable for you if I carry you to my bedroom.”

I can’t articulate it, not really. It’s the rawness of this moment, the unbridled need that has stripped away all pretense. I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to dilute it with the change of scenery in his bedroom.

“Here,” I whisper. “I… I want it to be here.”

He studies my face, his eyes searching for understanding. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across his face, a smile that’s equal parts tenderness and primal hunger.

“Here,” he repeats. “You want me right here, surrounded by laundry and the scent of detergent?”

I nod, my cheeks burning. “Yes,” I whisper. “Please.”

“As you wish,” he murmurs with a grin. “But I’m warning you, pretty angel. Once we start, there’s no going back.”

I swallow hard, the adrenaline coursing through me.

“I know,” I say. “I don’t want to go back.”

Heat radiates from his body against mine as his hands reach for the hem of my tank top, his fingers brushing against my skin. He pulls it up slowly, deliberately, his gaze never leaving mine. The cool air on my skin is a delicious contrast to the burning heat within me.

His knuckles brushing against my breasts, over my tight nipples.

My body pushes toward him like I have zero control.

Then he pulls the tank top over my head, tossing it carelessly onto the pile of clothes beneath us. His eyes roam over my exposed breasts, lingering on my hard, aching nipples.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. “Absolutely beautiful.”

He reaches out, one hand cupping a breast, his mouth wrapping around the other one, sucking my nipple, his tongue flicking it. The sensation is exquisite. My hips are already rocking, my body buzzing from the arousal cascading through me.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispers against my skin.

“To be tied up,” I gasp, the word barely audible. “I want… you touching me. Everywhere. Fucking me.”

He chuckles, a growly sound, as he shifts above me. The heat of his body presses into mine, a delicious weight that has me arching instinctively. His hands skim over my skin before reaching down, rummaging through the scattered clothes beneath us. Then, fabric—soft, worn cotton—slides against my wrists.

I barely have time to process before he gathers my hands, bringing the wrists above my head and binding them together with the shirt.

“I won’t tie you to anything,” he murmurs. “Not your first time with me, okay, angel?”

The endearment leaves me purring for him, batting my eyes at him. I test the hold, my fingers flexing against the makeshift restraint, and a soft, needy sound slips from my lips.

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