Page 113 of Knot Your Karma
“Make the excuses,” I say.
The effect is immediate. Declan smells likeyes please,Reed looks like I just solved every diplomatic crisis he’s ever faced, and Adrian’s scent does that thing where it wraps around me like the world’s most comforting blanket, except this blanket also makes me want to do very un-blanket-like things.
“Give us five minutes,” Reed says, already standing. “I’ll handle the family explanations.”
“What are you going to tell them?” I ask, watching him straighten his tie in a way that somehow looks predatory.
Reed’s grin could power the lighthouse. “That newly bonded packs have certain... biological needs... that require immediate privacy. Trust me, everyone will understand.”
He’s not wrong.
He disappears into the crowd, and I watch him work his way through our families with the kind of smooth explanations that leave everyone smiling and nodding knowingly. Within minutes, Destiny is winking at me across the room, Mom is making shooing motions with her hands while Sterling grins with paternal understanding, and even Declan’s father looks like he approves of us leaving early.
“Ready?” Declan asks, offering me his arm with formal courtesy that contrasts sharply with the possessive heat burning in his eyes.
“More than ready.”
The walk to the waiting limo feels like the longest few minutes of my life. Every step sends silk sliding against overheated skin, and I’m pretty sure I’m broadcastingomega in desperate need of pack attentionto half the state by now. Thedriver takes one look at our faces and immediately busies himself with very important dashboard adjustments.
By the time we settle into the plush interior, my hands are shaking. Reed immediately hits the partition button with the efficiency of someone who’s definitely thought about limo privacy before.
“Back seat,” Declan says, his voice carrying alpha authority that makes my omega brain goyes sirwithout consulting the rest of me first. “All of us.”
“All of us?” I repeat. “In the limo? Are we seventeen?”
“We’re not waiting until we get home,” Reed explains, pulling me onto his lap. “We’ve been good all day, smiled for pictures, made nice with families. But Karma, I need to touch you. We all need to touch you.”
“Here?” I ask, even as I settle against Reed’s chest and feel Declan and Adrian arrange themselves on either side of us.
“Just touching,” Adrian says gently, his large hand finding my knee and settling there with warm pressure. “Just... connection. Until we get home.”
“Promise?” I ask, though the word comes out as more of a moan when Reed’s hands find the pearl buttons of my dress.
“Promise,” Declan confirms, but his fingers are already tracing the line of my collarbone.
So apparentlyjust touchingmeans Reed conducting very important diplomatic research on the silk-covered curves of my waist. Declan’s doing this thing where he traces patterns on my shoulders that make me shiver and arch, and Adrian’s thumb is drawing circles on my knee that keep drifting higher until I’m pretty sure I’m going to spontaneously combust in expensive upholstery.
“You’re so beautiful,” Reed murmurs against my ear, which is cheating because his voice does things to me that should probably require a license. “So perfect in that dress, making those little sounds every time we touch you.”
“The way you smell,” Adrian adds, and his scent is thickwith want. “Like vanilla and need and everything we’ve been wanting all day.”
“The way you’re trembling,” Declan’s voice is rough. “Like you’re as desperate for this as we are.”
“I am,” I whisper, because what’s the point of pretending otherwise when I probably smell likeplease touch me moreto anyone with working scent glands. “I’ve been thinking about this since the ceremony ended.”
“Just thinking?” Reed asks, his hands sliding lower, finding the hem of my dress. “Because I’ve been fantasizing about what you’re wearing under this dress since I helped you get ready this morning.”
“Reed,” I gasp, but it comes out more like encouragement when his fingers trace the edge of my vintage lace garter.
“The lace,” Adrian says quietly, his own hand joining Reed’s exploration. “I helped pick it out, remember? Been wondering all day if it matches.”
“Only one way to find out,” Declan says, his hands moving to the pearl buttons.
The dress basically falls off me, silk sliding away to reveal the vintage lace lingerie set that took three shopping trips to find. The reaction is immediate—three sharp intakes of breath and the sudden spike of arousal that makes the limo smell like want and possession.
“Jesus Christ,” Reed breathes, his composure completely shot. “Karma, you’re going to kill us.”
“That’s the plan,” I manage, though my voice comes out breathy and desperate.
