Page 25 of Knotting else Matters

She leaned back against the table, one leg crossing over the other, the motion pushing the nightie higher, revealing the smooth curve of her thigh. “True. But I haven’t had sex in nine months. Does that count for something?”

I didn’t let her finish the next sip. I was off the bed in an instant, the glass of champagne slipping from my fingers to the carpet with a soft, muffled thud. I reached her, my hands sliding around her waist, pulling her back against me, my mouth finding hers with a fierce, hungry need.

“That fucking counts,” I growled against her lips, feeling her body melt against mine, the soft, surprised laugh that slipped from her swallowed by another hungry kiss. “Now let me make up for all the fun you missed.”

Her breath hitched, the teasing fire in her eyes flaring to something darker, something desperate. Her hand slipped into my hair, her nails grazing against my scalp, pulling me closer.

My fingers slid between her thighs, finding her again, slick and warm, and she bucked against my hand, her head falling back, a soft, breathless moan spilling from her lips. I traced slow, deliberate circles against her, feeling her body tremble, the tension coiling tighter and tighter beneath my touch.

“You're already dripping for me,” I whispered, my lips tracing the line of her jaw, her pulse racing beneath my mouth. “Nine months without this? I’m going to make you forget every second you spent alone.”

Her laugh was a breathless, broken sound, her body arching against me, her fingers clawing at my back. “Promises, promises…”

“I don’t make promises. I make guarantees.”

I pulled back just enough to look at her, her flushed face framed by that wild, tangled hair, her green eyes blazing with desperate need. And then I grabbed her hips, lifted her slightly, and drove into her, burying myself in her wet, welcoming heat with one smooth, powerful thrust.

I kissed the side of her neck, the faint taste of champagne on her skin, my other hand sliding up, cupping her breast, her hardened nipple pressing against my palm.

“Is this what you wanted?” I whispered against her ear, my voice low, a dark, possessive growl that I barely recognized as my own. “All those months without anyone to touch you, to make you feel this good?”

“Yes,” she whimpered, her hips pressing against my hand, her breath coming faster, her fingers tightening in my hair. “Gods, yes.”

“Good.” I bit lightly at her ear, feeling her shiver. “Because I’m not done with you, Olivia. Not even close.”

Her laughter was a sweet, broken sound, her body a perfect, writhing heat against me. And I didn’t care about control. Didn’t care about anything but this—her taste, her touch, the wild, desperate way she whispered my name.

And I would spend the rest of the night reminding her exactly who she belonged to tonight.

CHAPTER 7

Olivia

Regret was a bitter, familiar friend. The kind that always showed up the morning after, slipping in through the cracks in the sunlight, wrapping itself around me like a heavy, suffocating blanket.

But I refused to let it win. Not today.

Because last night had been wild. Absolutely reckless. Adrian and I had torn through every last drop of champagne, laughed, tangled ourselves in the sheets, and lost ourselves in a blur of heat and breathless moans. Over and over, until the darkness outside the window had given way to the soft gray glow of dawn.

And now, here I was—sprawled across his chest, his arm wrapped around me, the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing a quiet, rhythmic calm. I should’ve felt awkward. I should’ve slipped out of bed, wrapped myself in a sheet, and pretended I’d never let this happen.

But I didn’t.

Because for the first time in… gods, I didn’t know how long, I felt calm. The wolf in me—the restless, snarling creature that usually spent its days half-asleep and half-furious—was quiet. Not just quiet. Content. A soft, warm pulse of satisfaction that spread through me, wrapping me in a strange, unfamiliar warmth.

Was this it? Was this the universe’s twisted way of rewarding me for finally getting back at my cheating human ex-husband? Oh, he’d taken my heart and torn it to shreds, but now… now I’d clawed my own piece of satisfaction out of this messed-up world. And damn, it felt good.

Beneath me, Adrian stirred, his arm tightening around my waist, his head turning slightly, the faintest hint of a groan escaping his lips.

“Is it raining outside?” His voice was rough, thick with sleep, that deep, gravelly tone doing dangerous things to my already fragile self-control. “I swear I can smell fresh spring rain.”

A laugh burst out of me, sharp and warm. “Nope. Sunny as hell. And in case you forgot, it’s August.”

“Figures.” His other arm slid beneath his head, a faint, lazy smirk curling at his lips. “Just my luck. Even the weather messes with me now.”

“Oh, poor mighty Alpha, defeated by the unpredictable world. I’d feel sorry for you if I didn’t have such a vivid memory of you losing control last night.”

His chest rumbled with a low chuckle beneath me, and I felt the heat bloom in my cheeks, a delicious reminder of every desperate, reckless second of last night.

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