Page 182 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

“Yeah?”

I hesitate, my fingers curling into the blanket beneath me. “Thank you.”

His hand stills on my hip, and I feel him shift behind me. “For what?”

“For…for helping me,” I say, my throat tightening around the words. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been here.”

Finn exhales softly, his breath warm against the back of my neck. “You don’t have to thank me, sunshine,” he whispers. “I’d do anything for you.”

The sincerity in his voice makes my chest ache, and I swallow hard, trying to fight the emotions threatening to spill over.

Finn shifts again, his arm tightening around me as he presses a soft kiss to my shoulder. “Are you hungry?” he asks, his tone lighter now, as if sensing I need a distraction.

I offer a hesitant nod, realizing I haven’t eaten since the last time he finger-fed me food while I was still too weak to move. My stomach twists at the thought, a mix of hunger and nausea.

“Stone made another tray. I’ll grab it,” Finn says, easing out of the nest.

I watch him as he moves, the way his muscles shift under his skin, the faint lines of tension in his shoulders. He’s still wearing the same sweatpants from last night, and the sight sends another flash of memory through me—his body hovering over mine, his sweat-dampened skin pressed against me, the way he moved inside me.

My cheeks burn again, and I turn my gaze away, focusing instead on the nest around me. It’s a mess, all of it saturated with Finn’s scent and…mine. The realization makes my stomach flip, equal parts embarrassment and something else I have no words for.

When Finn returns, he settles back into the nest with the tray balanced carefully in his hands. The smell of eggs and toast fills the air, and my stomach growls loudly in response.

Finn chuckles softly, gray eyes crinkling at the corners as he hands me a piece of toast. “Here,” he says, his voice warm. “Start with this.”

I take it, nibbling cautiously at the edge. The simple act of eating feels grounding, like I’m anchoring myself back to the present. Finn doesn’t rush me, doesn’t push. He just sits beside me, his presence steady and comforting, like a lifeline.

But even as I eat, my mind keeps drifting back to last night. To the way he touched me, the way he held me. To the way I gave him a part of myself I’ve never given anyone.

“Finn?” I say after a while, my voice quiet.

“Yeah?”

I hesitate, my fingers picking at the edge of the toast. “Did I…did I do okay?”

His brows furrow slightly, confusion flickering across his face. “What do you mean?”

“Last night,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “I’ve never…I didn’t know what to do, and I…”

Finn sets the tray aside, his expression softening as he shifts closer to me. “Hailey,” he says gently, his hand brushing a strand of hair from my face. His lips find mine, stealing my breath away. “You were perfect.”

I bite my lip, my cheeks flushing. “But I?—”

“You were perfect,” he says again. “Last night wasn’t about knowing what to do. It was about what you needed. And you trusted me enough to help you. You have no idea how much of a gift that was to me.”

His words hit something deep inside me, and I feel the weight of them settle over me like a blanket. I nod slowly, my throat too tight to speak, and Finn smiles softly, his thumb brushing against my cheek.

For a while, we stay like that—quiet, close, the silence between us thick with something unspoken but not uncomfortable. The world outside feels distant, like it belongs to someone else entirely.

Eventually, the light shifts, spilling brighter into the room as the sun climbs higher into the sky. The soreness in my body makes me aware of every movement, but it’s not unbearable—more like a dullreminder of everything that happened. A reminder of Finn’s hands on me, his voice grounding me, the way he stayed so gentle even when I begged him for more.

He hasn’t left my side. Every time I shift or wince, his hand is there, steadying me, brushing against my arm or my hip, a silent reassurance that I’m not alone.

But the quiet doesn’t last. The heat under my skin hasn’t fully gone—it’s still there under the surface, a slow burn that makes my skin tingle and my stomach twist. I can feel it creeping closer with every hour, like a storm building in the distance. And with it comes something else.

Something I don’t want to think about yet.

Finn moves beside me, his arm slipping from around my waist as he sits up, stretching his arms over his head. The blanket falls away, and I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, my cheeks heating at the sight of his bare chest.

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