Page 39 of Knotting on Heaven's Door

She crossed her arms, the rise and fall of her chest still heaving from everything we’d just done, but her glare? Pure fire.

I buttoned up my shirt slowly, more for show than necessity. “That’s how you repay me? For making you come so hard you forgot your own name?”

She let out a sharp breath that was half laugh, half growl. “No, Sebastian. That’s what you get for being asmug ass.”

I held a hand to my chest, dramatic. “Please, Ada, stop talking about my ass in the workplace. I mean, I know you like it—who wouldn’t?—but it makes me feel deeply uncomfortable. I’m considering reporting you to HR.”

She grabbed the nearest spatula and hurled it at me. It clattered off the fridge behind me. I grinned, unbothered.

“Careful now. Don’t get too stressed. I don’t do house calls, and you clearly need help relieving all that tension.”

She looked like she was about two seconds from launching a whisk at my head.

I grabbed my things—backpack slung over one shoulder, jacket under my arm—and backed toward the exit.

Still, as the door closed behind me and the night air hit my face, I let out a sigh. One of those long, bone-deep ones that made you admit to yourself what you didn’t want to say.

Ikind ofregretted pissing her off.

Especially since I now had a full hour walk ahead of me, and no matter how hard I tried… I could still taste her on my tongue.

The walk back was a fucking nightmare.

Every step reminded me that I’d been on my feet for over twelve hours, between the morning shift and the spontaneous counter sex that should’ve come with a chiropractor’s bill. My lower back ached, my calves burned, and by the time I finally reached the hotel—shirt clinging to me, mood somewhere below hell—I was ready to throw myself into the nearest alley and let fate decide my end.

The hot shower barely helped.

I scrubbed off the night and tried not to think about the wayher mouth had felt on mine. The way she’d moaned my name. The way she’d thrown a spatula at my head like she meant it.

Out of every omega in the world, I had to end up getting bossed around by the one who made rage look like foreplay.

And gods help me, I wasn’t done with her.

I crashed face-first into the hotel bed, still damp from the shower, exhaustion flattening me like a steamroller. My last coherent thought was of her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, her lips red from my teeth, her voice saying—

“This ends now.”

Yeah. Sure.

The alarm blared what felt like seconds later.

Morning.

Great.

I dragged myself out of bed, threw on fresh clothes, and grabbed a coffee from the lobby—extra strong, no sugar. I needed the bitterness to match my soul. The sun was too bright, the bus was too crowded, and my patience for this working-class cosplay was wearing thinner by the day.

By the time I reached the kitchen, the morning chaos had already started.

Mia stood in the middle of the room like a commander at war, clipboard in hand, rattling off assignments. "Three sets of drop-offs today, I want everything packed, labeled, and out of here by eleven. And don’t forget we’ve got the charity gala prep this weekend—I’ll need two people on site Saturday, another two to prep here. Volunteers?”

Groans. Mutters. Liam offered a half-hearted shrug. I kept my head down, already halfway into trimming the vegetables I’d been assigned.

Then Liam spoke. “Hey, where’s Ada?”

I didn’t look up. But I wasdefinitelylistening.

Mia paused mid-scroll. “Doctor’s appointment.”

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