Page 91 of Knot So Fast
We stay like that for a long time, neither of us willing to move, and I only force myself to depart when I feel the swell of my knot begging to slip into her and seal the deal. As much as my body is begging for it, I know this isn’t the right time for it just yet. Soon but not yet. I pull out, and thank goodness she’s already doing her thing — hand massaging my knot the way she knows best to tame my wild knot that only quells for her.
I press my forehead to hers, both of us panting, slick with sweat and release and something that feels a lot like peace.
She cups my face in her hands and kisses me, slow and tender this time.
“Winning sex is the best,” she whispers.
My grin is wide as I nod.
"That’s just the appetizer, Sugar.”
There’s nothing else to say.
Not now, not while the world is still spinning and the future is as bright and sharp as her smile.
I know there will be complications—media, family, the fallout from today’s stunt. But none of it matters, not really. Not when I have her back in my arms, not when I know she’s mine and won’t give some other Alphas a chance at having her now that she’s about to be known across the globe and hit the wild fame that comes with competitive racing.
We eventually make our way to the bedroom, and though I’m positive the media is desperate for us to return sharply for all the interviews and madness, I couldn't care less right now.
A power nap sounds nice…
She’s curled up in my arms before I truly register it, the softness of the bed only an invitation as exhaustion settles in my body that can finally leave the tension behind and fucking relax.
For now, I hold her close, memorizing the sound of her breathing, the weight of her in my arms, the way her scent lingers in the air like a promise.
I fall asleep with her hair tangled in my fingers and her heartbeat echoing against my chest.
For the first time in a year, I actually believe we might be okay.
We might even be unstoppable.
FRAGMENTS OF FIRE
~AUREN~
I drift in and out of consciousness like I'm floating on warm ocean waves, each gentle rise and fall pulling me deeper into that blissful space between dreams and reality.
Soft lips press against the curve of my neck, feather-light touches that send pleasant shivers down my spine even through the haze of exhaustion. The kisses trail upward—along my jaw, brushing the corner of my mouth, finally settling on my forehead with a tenderness that makes my chest ache in ways I don't have words for.
"I'll be back later," Lachlan's voice rumbles against my skin, deep and warm like expensive whiskey. His hand smooths over my hair, fingers catching slightly in the tangled strands. "You're safe here. Sleep, Sugar."
I want to respond, want to tell him to stay, to curl back into the solid warmth of his body and never leave this perfect bubble we've created. But my limbs feel like they're made of lead, weighted down by the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that comes from finally—finally—letting go of tension I didn't even realize I'd been carrying.
"Rub…bish," I manage to mutter, the word slurred and barely audible as sleep pulls me under again.
I don’t even know why I say the word, or maybe I’m trying not to speak a bunch of rubbish and simply state the word instead.
Typical of me.
I feel more than hear his soft chuckle, the vibration of it through the mattress as he shifts away. The loss of his warmth makes me want to whine in protest, but I'm already sinking, already falling back into that dark, peaceful void where nothing exists except the lingering scent of him on the sheets and the phantom pressure of his lips on my skin.
My body feels like it's been holding every muscle taut for eons—spine rigid, shoulders locked, jaw clenched against words I couldn't say and truths I couldn't remember. But now, wrapped in sheets that smell like victory, sex, andhim, I can finally let it all go. Every defensive wall, every careful protection, every bit of armor I've worn since waking up in that hospital bed—all of it dissolves into nothing.
This is what peace feels like…belonging…and?—
The world shifts.
One moment I'm floating in blissful darkness, the next I'm strapped into a cockpit, the roar of twenty-three engines creating a symphony of controlled violence around me. The smell hits me first—hot metal and burning rubber, high-octane fuel and the metallic tang of adrenaline-laced sweat.My hands grip the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity as I navigate turn seven at speeds that blur the advertising boards into streams of color.
