Page 201 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

“Breathe,” he says softly, voice now so low it’s almost a growl.

I try, but it feels impossible with the way his scent is flooding my senses, stronger now, intoxicating and overwhelming. Such an intense concoction of cedar, my body aches to close the distance between us.

His fingers flex on my hips, and I feel him shift slightly beneath me, his chest rising and falling in time with my own. My gaze falls to his lips.

“Jax…” My voice is barely a whisper, filled with so much need I almost don’t recognize it.

I swear I feel the moment he gives in to whatever primal pull is between us. His fingers slip beneath the waistband of my pants, pushing aside the thin barrier of my panties until he’s touching me, skin to skin. A strangled sound escapes me, my hips bucking instinctively, seeking more.

“Easy,” he murmurs, his voice dark, controlled, but there’s something raw underneath it. “Let me take care of you.”

His fingers move like they already know me, circling the sensitive bud between my thighs, and I nearly sob at the relief it brings—not just physical, but emotional too. For days I’ve been adrift anchored only by Finn. Now Jax’s touch offers a second mooring point, another safe harbor. The realization that I can turn to him too sends a wave of something like gratitude washing through me alongside the pleasure. The tension that’s been coiling tighter and tighter within me threatens to snap, and I clutch at his shoulders, forcing myself to breathe.

Jax’s other arm tightens around my waist, holding me close as he strokes me, his breath still mingling with mine, his lips so close I can feel their heat. Every movement sends a spark through my veins, my body surrendering completely to his touch.

This doesn’t feel like being used or controlled. This feels like connection, like two pieces of something larger finding their fit.

“You’re so sensitive,” he murmurs, his voice rough, edged with something dangerous. His nose brushes against mine, and for a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. My heart pounds against my ribs, my body trembling against him, desperate for that final push over the edge.

When his fingers dip lower, pressing into my slick entrance, I gasp, my forehead pressing harder against his. The sensation is overwhelming, each stroke pushing me closer to the precipice, my body strung so tight I feel like I might shatter.

“Jax—” I plead, and I feel him shudder against me.

His lips brush mine, the barest ghost of a touch, and it sends me spiraling. The combination of his fingers, his scent, his presence—it’s too much, and I shatter around him, my body wracked with pleasure so intense it steals my breath. My thighs clamp around his hand, my entire being shaking as waves of bliss crash through me.

Jax groans, his forehead still pressed to mine, his breath ragged. He doesn’t move away, doesn’t let me go. Instead, he stays with me, grounding me through the aftershocks, his touch gentle as he slowly withdraws his fingers.

I’m still trembling when he lifts his hand, his fingers glistening with my release. His darkened gaze locks onto mine, and without breaking eye contact, he slips them between his lips, his tongue sweeping over them in a slow, deliberate motion.

A choked noise escapes me, something between embarrassment and arousal, and he hums in satisfaction, his free hand cupping my jaw.

“I should take you to the nest,” he whispers.

And the way he says it makes me realize—this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Chapter 47

Hailey

True exhaustion feels like sinking. Like being pulled under by a current too strong to fight, where even keeping your eyes open becomes a battle you’re destined to lose.

Jax carries me to the nest despite my mumbled protests, his arms steady and sure around me. The tremors from before have mostly subsided, leaving behind a bone-deep weariness that makes my limbs feel impossibly heavy.

“Rest,” he murmurs as he lays me down among the soft blankets beside a still-sleeping Finn. His voice is rough, strained in a way that draws my tired gaze to him.

Even through my exhaustion, I can’t help but notice the evidence of his own need—the tight set of his jaw, the barely controlled tension in his shoulders, the unmistakable outline pressing against his pants where a large dark spot of wetness has formed. The sight makes my chest tighten with guilt.

“You don’t have to—” I start, but he shakes his head, cutting me off.

“Sleep,” he says firmly, though his touch remains gentle as he pulls a blanket over me. “You need the rest, sweetheart.”

I want to protest, to tell him he doesn’t have to leave, but mybody betrays me. My eyelids grow heavier with each passing second, and the last thing I register is the soft brush of his fingers against my jaw before darkness claims me.

It must take a few hours for me to wake, that exhaustion pulling me under and holding me captive. Finally, voices pull me from the depths of sleep—low, urgent tones that drift up from somewhere below. At first, they blend with my dreams, indistinct and hazy. But as consciousness slowly returns, they sharpen into familiar cadences that make me lift my head from the pillow.

“…tracks were fresh.” Stone’s voice, tight with barely contained anger. “No more than a day old.”

“And you’re sure?” That’s Finn, his usual warmth replaced by something harder.

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