Page 105 of Knot Like Other Girls

His response is sharp and immediate. "No."

I blink, surprised by the vehemence in his tone. He sighs, his expression softening. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice softer now. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "I'm just not ready for that. Not yet."

I nod, accepting the boundary without pushing. "It's okay," I tell him, and I mean it. "You don't have to show me anything you're not comfortable with."

He studies me for a long moment, as if searching for signs of disappointment or rejection.

"Just like that?" he asks, sounding genuinely surprised. "Most people would push."

I nod. "Just like that." I nuzzle his nose. "And I'm not most people."

He stares at me for a long time, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he leans over me and presses his lips to mine in a kiss so gentle it makes the butterflies rise up in my chest all over again.

"No," he murmurs against my mouth. "You're definitely not most people."

The kiss deepens, his rough hand sliding up my side to cup my breast. Heat flares inside me again, my body responding instantly to his touch. I moan softly, arching into him, feeling his knot shift inside me.

"Cole," I gasp, breaking the kiss. "Your knot?—"

"Your squirming has that effect," he says, his voice rough with renewed hunger. "Give it a few more minutes."

As if to prove his point, he rolls his hips slightly, the movement sending new sparks sizzling through me. I clutch at his arm, my nails digging into his skin.

"You want to take a shower with me before we head out?" he asks huskily, breath whispering against the bared side of my throat.

"Yes," I answer softly. The thought of warm water washing over us both, his hands sliding over my skin—it makes my lingering heat flare again. "But aren't we... can we...?" I glance down to where we're still joined.

Cole follows my gaze, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Not going anywhere just yet," he murmurs, stroking my hair back from my face. "Not until my knot goes down."

We lie together, snuggling as blissful minutes pass. I trace lazy patterns on his arm, the one that's wrapped around my waist, following the paths left by marks that wrap around his muscled forearm. It's as if he had a strap coiled around it like a snake that burned a winding pattern into it. At first, he flinches every time I brush my fingertips against it, but finally, he begins to relax at my touch.

Eventually, I feel him begin to soften inside me. Cole notices too, his arms tightening around me slightly. He shifts carefully, adjusting our position. I feel the gentle pressure as he tries to ease his knot free. There's a moment of resistance, then a sudden release as he slips out of me, leaving me feeling strangely empty. A warm trickle follows, making my cheeks flush at the physical evidence of how we spent the night.

Cole rolls away, sitting up with his back to me. I catch a glimpse of his profile, the pink tissue in his empty eye socket briefly visible before he closes it again and covers it with his hand, too.

"I need to..." He gestures toward the bathroom with his free hand.

"Of course," I say quickly, pulling the sheet up to my chest though he's not looking at me. And it's not like it's anything hehasn't seen before. But his sudden self-consciousness is rubbing off on me, apparently.

He stands, gloriously naked, his muscular body moving with athletic grace despite the extensive damage on his right side. It doesn't seem to hinder him. He quickly grabs something off the nightstand I realize is his prosthetic eye before disappearing into the adjoining bathroom, closing the door softly behind him.

I sink back against the pillows, allowing myself to fully process what's happened between us. I've just spent the night with Cole Beaumont. Cole, with his gruff demeanor and wounded soul. Cole, who carves beautiful things with his hands. Cole, who looks at me like I'm something miraculous when he thinks I'm not paying attention.

My body feels… different.

Pleasantly sore in places that haven't been used in far too long, and tingling with the lingering effects of my heat. The suppressants prevented a full-blown heat, but they couldn't eliminate it entirely, just dampen it enough to keep me functional. The simmering embers still linger beneath my skin, banked for now but threatening to flare at any moment.

This is what a scent match does, I realize. The chemical compatibility between us magnifies everything. Every touch, every glance, every shared breath.

I'm still lost in these thoughts when the bathroom door opens. Cole emerges with a towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets clinging to his face and damp white hair. The blue prosthetic eye is back in place, and his posture is slightly straighter now, more confident. Not much, but enough that I notice.

He hesitates in the doorway, his gaze traveling over my sheet-covered form. "You want to take a shower together?" he asks, his voice carefully neutral.

God, I really hope he isn't slipping back into being Aloof Cole again. He's like a feral cat.

I sit up, letting the sheet pool around my waist, feeling a surge of confidence when his gaze darkens at the sight of my bare breasts. "I'd like that," I say, surprised by the husky quality of my own voice.

Must be hoarse from yelling his name all night.

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