Page 84 of Knotting With A Stranger

…and lock gazes with James standing in the doorway.

I yelp and dive under the water’s surface, emerging only enough to keep my head above the waterline. The bubbles from the jets provide minimal coverage, but it’s better than nothing. My heart hammers against my ribs, panic and humiliation fighting for dominance.

“Oh my God! What the actual fuck?!” I sputter, my response embarrassingly high-pitched. “Don’t you knock?!”

James leans against the doorframe, a slow smile spreading across his face. There’s something sinful in his eyes.

“Payback, little baker. Only fair you watched me, and now I watched you, though I seriously think I got the better deal here.” His gaze hasn't left mine, trapping me in their stormy depths. “You have any idea how fucking hot you are pleasuring yourself? How the scent of you is driving me insane right now?”

I want to evaporate. Literally disappear into the steam filling this room. Instead, he strolls in and pulls the door shut behind him with a click that sounds like a prison cell locking. He’s dressed casually in worn jeans that hang low on his hips and a loose t-shirt that does nothing to hide the broad expanse of his chest. His feet are bare on the tiles, making his approach eerily silent. The spa room suddenly feels much smaller, the air heavy with something unspoken.

“You should leave,” I say, but there’s no conviction in my voice. We both know it’s a lie.

I stay submerged, grateful for the churning water concealing me. My face must be roughly the color of the red velvet cake batter I was perfecting last month. Even now, with my dignity in tatters, my baker’s brain makes these inane comparisons.

“What do you want, James?” I manage.

He sits on the edge of the tub, letting his fingers trail through the water mere inches from where I’m huddled. “Did you know after your first knot you should take it easy. Let your pretty little pussy there cool off...” His tone drops to a rumble that I feel in my bones. “It will hurt less if you give it time.”

“Shut up,” I turn away from him, but another wave of discomfort rolls through me unexpectedly, stronger than before. I grasp the side of the tub to steady myself, a small whimper escaping before I can trap it behind my teeth. “I hate having no control. And I’m so embarrassed, I’m going to hide for eternity. I just gave myself to Hunter, begged him... God.” I clench my eyes shut, memories flooding back. “I’m like a bad pornographic cliché. Next thing you know, I’ll be calling himdaddyor something equally horrifying.”

A dark chuckle escapes him. “I wouldn’t complain.”

“You wouldn’t,” I mutter.

“Oh, I know,” James says casually, his fingers creating small whirlpools in the water. “Archer and I heard you both in there.”

My stomach drops to somewhere around my ankles. “Shit!”

“Every. Single. Word.” He enunciates each syllable, his expression unreadable. “Every moan. Every plea. Everything.”

“Kill me now.” I sink lower into the water, wishing it would close over my head permanently.

“I can’t even be upset, though.” He runs a hand through his copper hair, the movement highlighting the tension in his shoulders. “I did put a hole in the wall in my bedroom, but I’m over that now.” His grin suggests otherwise—it’s all teeth and barely contained aggression.

I should be annoyed—maybe even afraid—but instead, a strange mix of guilt and something far more dangerous coils inside me. Arousal. The idea that I could affect him like this, stir up that kind of raw emotion... it shouldn't excite me. But my skin tingles beneath the water, heat pooling low in my belly.

God, what’s wrong with me?

“Sure, you are,” I mutter. “That’s why you’re here, intimidating a naked woman in a bathtub. Very well-adjusted.”

“I know you needed him,” he admits with surprising sincerity, ignoring my barb. His expression softens momentarily, giving me a glimpse of vulnerability beneath the Alpha posturing. “And I’m here for you when you’re ready again.”

The ache pulses inside me, as if responding to his words, my treacherous body betraying me yet again.

“At this stage, I feel ready now, but I’m sensitive... you know... down there.” I want to die as the words leave my mouth. Apparently, Omega biology also steals your ability to be articulate.

“What you need is an Alpha’s touch,” he says lowly. “Our soothing presence. Our scent. Our hands.” His eyes darken. “Our mouths.”

A delicious shiver runs through me at his promise. “Is that what they taught you in pastry school? Alpha wellness techniques? Between éclair piping and soufflé timing?”

He smirks at my attempt at deflection. “You’re cute when you’re defensive. I never went to pastry school; I’m self-taught.”

“And you’re annoying when you’re... breathing,” I retort lamely.

“You can do better than that, little baker.”

“What are you offering, exactly?” I eye him skeptically, trying to regain some control over the situation. “Because if this is some kind of pity party, I’m not interested.”

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