Page 52 of Knotting else Matters

“Maybe?” I let my fingers trail down her spine, tracing slow, teasing lines, feeling the faint, delicious shiver that rippled through her. “Should I remind you of all those filthy thoughts you had? The ones I could feel, the ones you’d never dare speak out loud?”

Her eyes widened just slightly, the color in her cheeks deepening, but she didn’t lose that fierce, wild spark. “You’re making that up.”

“Oh, am I?” I leaned closer, my mouth brushing against the soft, sensitive curve of her ear. “You wanted me to take you. To make you beg. To mark you. You wanted to feel me stretch you, to feel me lock you in place, to make you mine. Isn’t that right?”

Her breath caught, a soft, desperate sound slipping from her lips, but she covered it with a defiant laugh. “You’re just full of yourself, aren’t you?”

“I’m full of something, but I think you’re the one who’s full of me right now.”

Her laugh turned into a breathless, wicked giggle, her fingers tightening against my chest. “Gods, you’re impossible.”

“Maybe.” I leaned back, letting my fingers slip into her damp, tangled hair, brushing it away from her face, my thumb tracing the sharp, perfect line of her jaw. “But I’m not the one who begged to be ruined.”

“Didn’t hear you complaining.” Her voice softened, a faint, teasing edge threading through it, but there was something else—something warmer, something almost shy.

“No.” I couldn’t help the faint, twisted smile that tugged at my lips. “I wasn’t complaining. I was too busy listening to you fall apart. My sweet chaos.”

Her expression shifted, just slightly, the teasing light in her eyes faltering, her fingers tracing slow, absent patterns against my chest. “You really like calling me that, huh?”

“I do.” Because it was safe. Because it was the game we played—the teasing, the banter, the wild, breathless madness that wrapped around us like a shield.

Because it was better than telling her the truth.

That I was falling for her. Fast. Hard. That the thought of letting her go twisted in my chest like a knife. That I wanted more than this—more than the wild, reckless nights, more than the sharp, electric banter.

But I didn’t say any of that. I just leaned in, pressing a soft, lazy kiss against her lips, letting the warmth of her, the sweet, wild scent of her wrap around me.

“Better get comfortable,” I murmured, my fingers tracing slow, soothing circles against her back. “We’re going to be like this for a while.”

“Oh no,” she sighed, a faint, wicked smile tugging at her lips. “Trapped with an insufferable Alpha who thinks he owns me. What a nightmare.”

“I don’t think I own you.” I let my lips brush against hers, a slow, teasing kiss. “I know I do.”

Her laugh was a warm, breathless sound, and she leaned into me, her forehead resting against my shoulder. “Arrogant bastard.”

“Your arrogant bastard.”

“Don’t push it.”

But her voice softened, her fingers curling against my chest, her breath a soft, sweet whisper against my skin. And I let the banter continue, let the game play out, because it was safer than admitting the truth.

That this wasn’t just a game anymore.

That I was already in too deep.

CHAPTER 13

Olivia

I woke up feeling… warm. Warm and blissful, a soft, lazy contentment curling through me like a cozy, sunlit blanket. The sheets were a tangled mess around me, the faint scent of him still lingering on the pillow beside me—cedar, wild earth, something darker, something that made my heart race. My body ached in all the best ways, a dull, delicious soreness that left me grinning like an idiot.

Even my stupid wolf seemed happy, lounging in the back of my mind with a satisfied sigh, her head resting on her paws, a faint, smug smile curling at her lips. A warm, sleepy glow that I wanted to hold on to.

But the bed beside me was empty.

My heart twisted, a faint, bitter ache slipping beneath the lazy warmth. I shoved it down, pulling the sheets tighter around me, letting out a long, slow breath. I was being ridiculous. Of course he wasn’t here. That was the deal—fun, wild, reckless, but not permanent. Not real.

A folded piece of paper on the nightstand caught my eye, and I snatched it up, the sharp, slanted letters unmistakably his.

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