Page 83 of Knotting With A Stranger

He chuckles, and there’s something warm in his gaze, something that makes my chest tighten.

“But it’s how it’s meant to be,” he says, tilting his head to hold my gaze. “We were made for each other.” His hand cups the back of my head, guiding me closer. “How we’re meant to be.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of our breathing and the slow, steady thrum of our heartbeats. I sigh, letting my body fully relax, letting myself melt against him. My head finds its place against his thick bicep, my cheek pressing to the firm heat of his chest.

His scent surrounds me, strong and intoxicating, filling my lungs and settling deep inside me. I’ve never felt this before—not just the pleasure, not just the high… but this. This contentment. This sense of belonging with someone other than my immediate family.

Hunter’s arms tighten around me, his lips pressing against my hair in a silent promise.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers again. “Rest now, angel.”

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a small voice whispers that when the storm clears and the heat passes, nothing will ever be the same again.

19

LILY

The bath water envelops me like a warm embrace, steam rising in lazy tendrils around the vast marble tub. My muscles unwind as I sink in to my neck, letting the heat soothe away the day’s intensity. The bathroom is ridiculously big—and honestly, who needs a bath this size in their home? It’s practically made for several people to enjoy with its curved edges and multiple seating ledges. The spa jets pulse rhythmically, sending bubbles dancing across the surface, obscuring my body beneath.

I exhale. Today has been... a lot.

“Who even are you, Lily?” I mutter to myself, watching ripples form from my words.

The old Lily—the one who color-coded her recipe books and triple-checked her alarm—wouldn’t recognize this version of herself. That Lily had plans. A five-year business strategy. A carefully cultivated collection of vintage aprons that had never seen the business end of a flour explosion. That Lily would havenever found herself in this position, caught among three Alphas like some twisted fairy tale.

This Lily? This Lily who has only ever had sex with one other guy just experienced her first Omega heat and handled it about as gracefully as a cat on roller skates.

My cheeks burn at the memory. The laundry room. Hunter. The way my body had simply taken control, leaving my rational mind in the dust.

I’m blaming biology,I decide, emerging with a splash. It’s not my fault I have faulty wiring that turns me into some sort of... desperate romance novel heroine. “Oh, Alpha, please knot me!” I mimic in a high-pitched voice, then gag dramatically. “God, I actually said that, didn’t I?”

Outside, night has fallen, casting the bathroom in eerie shadows. Only the underwater lights illuminate the space, giving everything a surreal blue glow. It matches my mood—suspended between reality and something darker, more primal.

I’d slept most of the day away after—well, after. When I woke, I found my room stocked with enough snacks to feed a small army. I’d devoured most of them before making my way here, carefully avoiding any potential Alpha encounters. The mere thought of facing them makes my stomach flip in a way that has nothing to do with the eight protein bars I inhaled.

“It’s perfectly normal,” I tell myself firmly, reaching for the control panel to increase the jet pressure. “Adults have... adult situations. In laundry rooms. While begging to be—” I cut myself off with a groan and slam the jet button harder than necessary.

When the jets kick in with renewed vigor, something shifts inside me. A pressure builds, familiar and urgent. I freeze, eyes wide, feeling the heat spreading through my lower abdomen.

You’ve got to be kidding me. I glance around the empty bathroom, half-expecting to find someone controlling mybiological responses with a remote.Already? Seriously?What am I, some kind of Omega stereotype come to life?

That side apparently doesn’t understand the concept of recovery time. Or dignity. Or the fact that I have a bakery to run, bills to pay, and a life that doesn’t revolve around which Alpha I’m going to beg for attention next. The sensation intensifies, a deep ache flaring through my insides like a slow-burning fire.

On instinct, I shift positions, finding a seat on the ledge where one of the stronger jets streams directly between my thighs. The relief is immediate and intense, a counterpoint to the chaos in my mind. I grip the edge of the tub, knuckles whitening, a soft moan escaping my lips before I can stop it.

Self-service. Independent. Very girl-boss of me, really. Taking matters into my own hands. Literally.

The humor feels hollow. Is this my life now? Hiding in bathrooms, pleasuring myself to take the edge off? A shudder runs through me, equal parts revulsion and desire.

The water pulses against me in waves, and despite my inner turmoil, I lose myself in the sensation. My head falls back, wet hair clinging to my shoulders and back. Tension builds wonderfully as I chase the high that will quiet the insistent need, even if just for a little while. Everything narrows to the point of pleasure between my thighs, the outside world falling away as I climb higher, thoughts fragmenting into incoherence. The jet feels like fingers teasing me, and I’m here for it.

That’s it. Just a little more...

Breathing deeper, knuckles tighter, I rock my hips, getting that direct pulse right over my clit. Fuck yes! Almost instantly, I crest with a gasp that echoes off the tiled walls, my body arching as waves of pleasure crash through me. The momentary bliss drowns out everything else—the confusion, the fear, the uncertainty of what I’m becoming.

I’m floating, enjoying the bliss.

As the aftershocks ripple through me, I slowly open my eyes…

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