Page 50 of Knot Really Engaged
I blink, my eyes adjusting to the sunlight streaming through the window. Why did we forget to close the drapes? Well, obviously, we were too wrapped up in each other and . . . we were not thinking straight. As I move around and take in my surroundings, realization dawns on me. We’re not in the hotel.
Oh fuck. We’re in my room. Did my parents hear us last night?
Why didn’t I take a cab or call a car to take us back to the hotel? This is the first time I haven’t thought about the consequences of my actions, and the weight of that knowledge settles heavily on my shoulders. I tense up, my breath catching in my throat as I try to figure out our next move.
Audrey stirs beside me, nuzzling her face into my shoulder. Her eyelashes flutter against my skin, and I can feel the warmth of her breath tickling my neck. “Morning,” she murmurs, her voice husky with sleep.
Before I can respond, the bedroom door swingsopen with a bang, the sound reverberating through the room like a gunshot. “Liam, it’s almost noon. I was wondering if you plan on waking up?” My mother’s voice rings out, her tone a mixture of exasperation and amusement.
Audrey gasps, her eyes flying open as she scrambles to cover her face with the sheet. She presses herself closer to me, trying to hide her naked body from view. I can feel the heat of her skin against mine, the way her heart races in tandem with my own.
“Mom,” I exclaim, my voice strangled with embarrassment. I sit up, making sure to keep Audrey covered as I face my mother. “A little privacy, please?”
Mom presses her lips together, holding back a smile. Her eyes sparkle, and I brace myself to hear something or another about our stay. I’m thankful when she only says, “I’ll just . . . leave you two to get dressed.”
She ducks back out, closing the door gently behind her. I fall back against the pillows with a groan, my arm draping over my eyes. What a disaster. I can already imagine Mom downstairs, gleefully planning our shotgun wedding.
Audrey glances over at me, her lips twitching with barely contained laughter. “So much forleaving early . . .” She stretches, her body arching off the bed in a way that makes my mouth go dry.
Suddenly, she gasps, her eyes widening in realization. “Shit, I have to be at the airport at . . . When did you say our flight is?” She sits up, the sheet pooling around her waist as she runs a hand through her hair.
I run a hand over my face, trying to wake up and gather my thoughts. “Three o’clock. It would give us plenty of time to . . .” I trail off, my mind still foggy with sleep and the lingering effects of last night’s activities. “Nothing. I guess we have to dress, say goodbye to our families, and grab the bags from the hotel.”
“Don’t we have to check out at noon?” Audrey asks, her brow furrowing with concern. She bites her lower lip, a habit I’ve noticed she does when she’s worried or anxious.
I reach for her, pulling her back down onto the bed and into my arms. “I requested a late checkout since I thought we’d be preoccupied,” I say, my voice low and suggestive. I lean in, capturing her lips in a slow, languid kiss that makes my toes curl.
Audrey melts into me for a moment, her body soft and pliant against mine. But then she pulls back, her hands pressing against my chest. “Your mom is nearby, and your grandparents and . . .everyone,” she reminds me, her voice breathless and tinged with regret.
I sigh, my forehead resting against hers. She’s right, of course. We can’t afford to get carried away, not when we’re supposed to be playing the role of the happy, engaged couple. But the temptation is there, simmering just beneath the surface, and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to say to hell with it all and lose myself in her once more.
“You’re right,” I murmur, my thumb stroking the soft skin of her cheek. “We should probably get dressed and face the music.”
Audrey nods, a rueful smile playing on her lips. “At least we can look forward to some alone time on the plane,” she says, her eyes sparkling with promise.
I grin, my heart skipping a beat at the thought of having her all to myself for a few uninterrupted hours. “I like the way you think, princess.”
As we reluctantly untangle ourselves from each other and start the process of getting dressed, I can’t help but marvel at how natural this all feels. Waking up with Audrey in my arms, sharing lazy kisses and playful banter . . . It’s as if we’ve been doing this for years, rather than just a few short days.
But even as we make our way downstairs, hand in hand, ready to face my family, I realize I don’teven know who’s in the house. My heart pounds in my chest, a mixture of nerves and anticipation coursing through my veins.
I rub the back of my neck, avoiding Mom’s gaze as we enter the kitchen. “Mom, about what you saw . . .” I trail off, my cheeks heating with embarrassment.
She waves a hand, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Oh Liam, you’re both adults. I’m just happy to see you so happy.” Her eyes crinkle at the corners, a warmth and understanding shining in their depths.
I blink in surprise, my jaw going slack. That was . . . unexpectedly chill. I remember that time she caught me with Jill making out on the couch and kicked her out of the house, calling her mother—what happened to that version of Susie Cohen? I spent two weeks grounded—until I understood the full repercussions of my actions. I never did, only learned to be cautious.
Okay, I have to admit we were stupid high schoolers. This is different. I shake my head, trying to clear the memories from my mind.
“Your dad is trying to get ahold of you, by the way,” Mom says, her tone turning serious. She leans against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Where are Grandma and Grandpa?” I ask, mybrow furrowing with concern. I glance around the room, half-expecting them to appear at any moment.
“They stayed with him last night. They needed to rest, and the anniversary party went on for longer than expected,” she explains, her shoulders lifting in a small shrug.
I nod, relief washing over me. At least they didn’t hear Audrey and me having sex. My girl isn’t discreet at all—which I love, but it’s not great when your grandparents or family members are nearby. I suppress a shudder at the thought.
“He wants you to call him, though,” Mom adds, her gaze intense and unwavering.
