Page 76 of Knot the Last Chapter

The muscles in his arms flex around me. I feel the controlled tremble in him, the effort it takes to hold still, to not respond. I can feel him hard beneath me, the undeniable evidence of his own restraint.

He’s trying so hard. He makes me feel safe. But it’s getting worse. The ache is growing unbearable. My skin feels too tight. My thighs rub together, slick and needy. I can smell my own scent, rich and calling, begging. My core clenches with longing, again and again, and the fire keeps building.

My hands curl into his shirt. I can barely meet his gaze.

“Rhys,” I whisper, voice trembling. “Please…”

His brows draw together. “Lila…”

“I need help,” I say. “I can’t—I can’t do this on my own.”

The air shifts. Something primal wakes in his eyes. Hunger. Heat. Possession. But layered with something deeper—something reverent. His gaze trails down my face, searching, memorizing.

“You sure?” he asks, voice hoarse. “Because once I start, I won’t stop until I know you’re okay. I won’t let you suffer.”

I nod, breath shaking. “I trust you.”

Rhys growls softly, low and guttural, cradling me like something precious. His touch is careful, reverent.

The fabric of his sweater brushes my skin as he shifts me in his arms. My face presses into the crook of his neck, and I inhale him like I’m starving. It doesn’t ease the ache, but it grounds me again. Rhys. My alpha. The one who smells like home.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs. “Let’s make this easier, sweetheart.”

Rhys lays me down gently in the nest, his hands firm but gentle, as though I’m made of something precious. My body pulses with heat, slick and aching, every nerve alight with need. He moves slowly, watching me, gauging every breath, every tremble.

“Tell me what you need, sweetheart,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “I’m not doing anything until I know you want it.”

“I want you,” I breathe. “I want all of you.”

His eyes flash in the low light of the basement. His scent wraps around me, grounding and rich, but it only stokes the fire burning low in my belly. He leans down, lips brushing mine so lightly I almost whimper.

“You have me,” he says. “But I need you to be sure.”

I nod, hips shifting beneath him. “Please, Rhys. I can’t think—I just need.”

He kisses me, slow and deep, and it feels like a promise. His mouth coaxes mine open, and I melt into it, into him. When he pulls away, we’re both panting.

“I’ll take care of you,” he says, voice thick with restraint. “I’ll make it good. Just breathe, baby.”

He touches me like he’s memorizing every inch. His hands explore my body, teases it even more to life—thumbs brushing the sides of my breasts, fingers dragging down my hips. He undresses me slowly, easing my shirt over my head, peeling my leggings down like he’s unwrapping something sacred. My skin is hypersensitive, every stroke a spark.

He kisses a trail down my collarbone, my stomach, my thighs—slow, deliberate, worshipful. I moan softly, lifting my hips, needing more. He slides between my legs, breath ghosting over my center before he finally presses a kiss to my inner thigh.

“Rhys—”

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, and then his tongue finds me.

The heat spikes, sharp and sweet. I cry out, fingers tangling in his hair. He groans against me, like my taste is everything he’s ever wanted. He licks and sucks with maddening precision, one hand pinning my hip, the other stroking up my belly to tease my breast.

I’m already close, already trembling. My heat has made everything faster, more desperate. He pulls back just enough to look up at me.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, voice low and raw. “You smell like heaven.”

I whimper. “Don’t stop. Please.”

He doesn’t. He brings me over the edge with his mouth, the first orgasm crashing through me like a wave. I sob his name, hips bucking, and he holds me through it, never letting up until I’m shuddering beneath him.

When I finally catch my breath, he climbs up beside me, kissing me again. I taste myself on his tongue, and it makes me moan.

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