Page 63 of Knot the Last Chapter

Three alphas drawn in air while laughing.

Tyler groans. “Tease.”

“Guilty,” I say sweetly.

Corwyn arches a brow and pulls the next card from the deck.

The game isn’t over yet.

Chapter thirty-five

Corwyn

I’m savoring the slow buildup of tension in the room. Lila’s teasing smile is still lingering from her last move, tucked neatly into that pocket like a challenge none of us know how to answer.

I smile at the card and read it like I should be doing erotica audio books.

“Have someone in the room remove an article of clothing.”

Tyler groans immediately. “Corwyn, I swear—”

“Shh,” I say, not even sparing him a glance. My gaze is locked on Lila. “Lila.”

She lifts a brow, amused. “Me?”

“You,” I confirm, voice deliberately calm, despite the heat rising in my throat. “Remove your shirt.”

She meets my challenge and stretches as she stands, slow and smooth, fingers reaching to the hem of her shirt—a soft, loose sweater that hangs off her frame like it belongs to one of us. She peels it off with deliberate grace, revealing a thin, fitted T-shirt beneath. Not scandalous, not revealing—but it doesn’t matter. It’s the act that ruins us.

Tyler is practically panting.

Rhys shifts in his seat, jaw flexing.

And I? I watch the entire thing unfold like a man dying of thirst.

But Lila isn’t done.

“Oh no,” she says with mock disappointment, stepping back just far enough for us to take in the curve of her hips and the delicate line of her collarbone under the soft cotton of her T-shirt. “Still covered. What a shame.”

She flops back onto the couch like nothing happened, a little smug, a little flushed.

“I hate you,” Tyler mumbles. “Respectfully.”

“I’m wounded,” she says, pressing a hand to her chest.

Rhys doesn’t say anything, but his eyes are hungry.

I lean forward, bracing my elbows on my knees. “For the record, I’d have asked for more than a sweater.”

“You’d have gotten a slipper to the face,” Lila replies sweetly.

“Worth it.”

The banter eases some of the tension, but not all. My thoughts are caught in the static of her movement, the flash of skin, the promise behind every smile. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine her bare beneath me—panting, writhing, pleading.

I don’t close my eyes.

Tyler breaks the moment, reaching forward with a decisive flick of his wrist. “Alright. My turn.”

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