Page 104 of Hot Knot Summer
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“Once you’re ready,” I add, grinning into her neck.
She huffs a laugh, completely relaxed between us. “Right. Just as soon as your knots decide to calm the hell down.”
River chuckles from near her hip, kissing her skin. “You love our cocks.”
She hums, smug and sweet. “I really fucking do.”
18
EMMA
Three days of heat-induced passion blur together in a haze of hands, mouths, cocks, and overwhelming pleasure. Three days of being filled in every possible way, of coming so many times, I lost count, of being covered inside and out with more slick and seed than I thought humanly possible. Three days of surrendering completely to three Alphas who worshipped my body like it was their personal temple.
And now, finally, I feel normal again. More than normal, I feel incredible, as though I’m vibrating at a frequency I’ve never experienced before. My skin practically glows, my hair is shinier, and there’s a contentment in my bones that goes deeper than mere satisfaction.
But with that contentment comes a terror that threatens to choke me.
They bit me at my request. All three of them.Claimed me with marks that still throb gently over my body, a constant reminder of what we’ve done. Does this mean it’s forever? The rational part of my brain knows that plenty of couples have broken up after bonding bites, even though it comes with agonizing longing and pain that can last for years.
Please, universe, don’t let that happen to me. I’ve gone ahead and trusted again. I want to be right this time.
The thought of losing them has my chest tightening with panic. I’ve been hurt before, rejected and discarded like I was nothing. The scars from Chad’s betrayal are still fresh, and the idea of experiencing that kind of devastation again, but magnified by three and intensified by the biological bond, is almost paralyzing.
Stop it,I tell myself firmly.They chose you. They marked you. They’re taking you out tonight to celebrate.
Dinner at Starlight & Sage, the new restaurant that opened in Whispering Grove last month. According to River, it’s supposed to be an amazing fusion of rustic mountain cuisine with sophisticated presentation, the kind of place where people get dressed up but not stuffy, where the atmosphere is cozy rather than intimidating.
The guys insisted on buying me something special to wear, and when I protested that I didn’t need new clothes, Atlas simply said, “You deserve beautiful things, Emma. Let us give them to you.”
How do you argue with that?
The dress they chose hangs on the back of my door,and every time I look at it, I can’t quite believe it’s mine. Midnight blue silk that seems to contain entire galaxies, with tiny crystal beads scattered across the fabric like stars. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned.
I slip out of my robe and carefully lift the dress from its hanger. The silk whispers against my skin as I pull it on, settling over my curves like it was made specifically for my body. The neckline dips low enough to show the swell of my breasts without being indecent, while spaghetti straps leave my shoulders bare, showing off one of my healing bite marks. The skirt fits snugly over my hips before falling in a graceful line to my ankles, with a slit up the side that reaches higher than mid-thigh.
Every step I take, the fabric slides against my legs with a whisper of sound, the slit revealing flashes of thigh that make me feel powerful, feminine, and desired all at once.
I turn to face the full-length mirror and barely recognize the woman staring back at me. My hair falls in loose waves around my shoulders. My skin has that post-heat glow that makes me look radiant and healthy. The dress transforms me from the girl next door into someone sophisticated.
Is this what real happiness feels like? This bubbling effervescence in my chest, this sense that the world is full of infinite possibility?
A soft knock at the door interrupts my thoughts. “Come in,” I call.
River slides through the doorway, and I smile instantly at seeing him. He’s dressed in dark jeans and a button-down shirt the color of forest shadows, the sleeves rolled up to reveal those powerful forearms. His golden hair is styled with just enough product to look deliberately tousled, and his usual easy grin is replaced by something darker and sexier.
“I brought your—” He stops mid-sentence, his eyes going wide as he takes in my appearance. “Fuck me,” he breathes, the shoes he was carrying forgotten as they dangle from two fingers.
I feel heat rush to my cheeks under his obvious appreciation. “Do I look okay?”
“Okay?” He adjusts his cock through his jeans with his free hand, not even trying to hide his reaction. “Sugar cube, you look like every wet dream I’ve ever had wrapped up in designer silk.”
A giggle escapes me at his crude but flattering assessment. “River!”
“What? I’m being honest.” He sets the shoes, strappy heels that perfectly match the dress, on the dresser and moves closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “Twirl for me.”
I do as he asks, spinning slowly so the skirt flares around my legs, the slit revealing more of my thigh. When I face him again, his smile stretches wider.
