Page 152 of Knot Baked Out For This
The fire pit behind us has dwindled to glowing embers, the acrid scent of charred roses lingering faintly on the crisp morning breeze—a reminder of what I've just released into the wind.
My heart feels lighter, unburdened, but there's a new flutter in my chest now, born from the way Luca's presence anchors me here, his gingerbread-and-dark-roast scent mingling with the earthy pine of the mountain trail we raced up on Storm's back. The horse grazes contentedly nearby, her coat gleaming in the soft light, oblivious to the charged air between us.
I'm about to suggest we head back—before the bakery demands my attention or the ranch pulls him away—when curiosity bubbles up. "Do a lot of people come up here?" I ask, my voice softer than intended, laced with the shy wonderof someone who's just screamed her demons into oblivion and emerged on the other side.
Luca turns his head, those storm-gray eyes meeting mine with that quiet intensity I've come to crave. He smirks faintly, the corner of his mouth quirking in a way that makes my pulse skip.
"No," he says, his voice low and gravelly, like he's sharing a secret. "It's a rare spot. Most don't know about it—or if they do, they don't bother with the climb. Too steep, too hidden. That's what makes it special."
I nod, feeling a shy flush creep up my neck, my curls tumbling loose around my face in the breeze.
The deep green dress I changed into clings to my curves, a deliberate choice after our earlier moment, a reclaiming of the body I've hidden for too long. It feels right up here, exposed to the elements and his gaze, like I'm finally owning the space I take up. But the thought of leaving this isolated haven tugs at me.
I glance at him sidelong, biting my lip.
"Do you have to do anything at the ranch yet? Or... could we stay a little longer?"
He pivots fully toward me then, his smirk deepening into something predatory yet playful, and before I can blink, his arms snake around my waist, pulling me flush against him.
His fingers trail down, gripping my ass with a slow, deliberate squeeze that sends heat pooling low in my belly.
The scent of him intensifies—warm gingerbread spiced with that underlying storm of Alpha possessiveness—as he leans in close, his breath ghosting my ear.
"What is my reborn Omega thinking, hmm?" he murmurs, his voice a teasing rumble that vibrates through me.
I pout my lips, trying to play coy even as my body betrays me, arching into his touch. Slowly, I lick my bottom lip, tasting thesalt of the morning air and the lingering tang of my earlier tears now dried. "Would it be too much if we spent a bit more time here? Just us... doing a bit of risky public things?"
He chuckles, the sound rich and low, sending shivers down my spine as he leans in closer, his nose brushing my temple. "Does that include having my Omega's bare ass out of those stockings? Wouldn't mind slapping it like in those novels you enjoy reading."
My face flames instantly, a stutter escaping before I can stop it. "I-I haven't been reading anything frisky!" It's a lie, and we both know it—those cozy omegaverse romances with their pumpkin-spiced covers and steamy small-town packs have been my guilty escape in the quiet hours after closing the bakery.
He smirks further, leaning in to tug gently at my earlobe with his teeth, the sensation making me gasp.
"Oh really? So that little innocent cover book with the pumpkins and Halloween cupcakes…the one about the Omega trying to find herself in that small town and meeting a pack that fucks her senseless…isn't your type of read?"
My whole face is crimson now, heat spreading from my cheeks to my chest as he kisses the side of my neck, his lips warm and insistent.
I gasp again, the sound involuntary, while his hand moves down to grip my ass more firmly, kneading the flesh in a way that has my slick gathering between my thighs. His scent deepens, that gingerbread turning richer, almost caramelized with arousal, mixing with the fresh mountain pine and the faint smoke from our fire.
"I know what you like to read, Hazel," he growls, the words vibrating against my skin. "Now the question is, is my Omega into all that frisky fuckery in those books? Because I can provide any fantasy she has, and trust me, she won't be walking back to the bakery if I get to do what I've been yearning for for weeks."
I'm so red I can see black spots dancing in my vision, my breath coming in short bursts, but he holds onto me steadily, one hand sliding up to cup my face. "Breathe, sweetheart," he reminds me softly, his thumb stroking my cheek. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the crisp air and his comforting scent, steadying myself before whispering, "You'd actually do what I want... like from the books?"
He grins against my lips, tugging at my bottom lip slowly with his teeth, our eyes locked in an intense stare that makes my core clench.
"Anything, Hazel. Whatever my Omega wants... she gets."
I swallow hard, my throat dry, but he sees right through me—the hesitation, the spark of desire I've been suppressing.
He's opening the door, inviting me to step through and ignite this madness I know won't stop once it starts. My nod is small but certain, and then the words tumble out, portraying the scene I last read in vivid, embarrassing detail.
"The Omega outside in the woods, no stockings or underwear, slick dripping... and the Alpha taking her up against the tree... and then when she cums, he puts her on the edge of the rail and fucks her... and doesn't hesitate to pick her up and fuck her.... Well... yeah... maybe that?"
He's giving me a full-blown smile now, wide and genuine, the kind that transforms his usually stoic face into something boyishly charming.
I whisper, "Gah, don't smile like that! This is so embarrassing, and you never smile like that. You look like Levi now."
He chuckles, the sound warm and affectionate, and reminds me, "I look like him before he kisses you long and hard." And then he does just that—his mouth crashing onto mine in a kiss that's all fire and need, his tongue sweeping in to claim me as his hands roam possessively.
