Page 213 of Knot Baked Out For This
We don’t even talk at first. We just breathe.
At some point, Rowan’s hands drift lower. One cups my thigh, spreading it lazily; the other caresses my stomach, mapping circles that get lower with every pass. His cock presses hard and obvious against my lower back, but he waits, like he’s giving me time to choose.
The world goes gentle, fuzzy at the edges.
When he finally pushes inside me, it’s different from before—slow, so slow, and careful in a way that’s almost ceremonial. I’m floating, cradled in heat and muscle and Rowan’s soft, earnest “I got you, firefly.” He rocks us together, letting the water ripple, every thrust more like a promise than a demand.
Our eyes lock in the flickering dark. He touches my jaw, brushes kisses against my cheek, and never, not once, lets me doubt who I belong to—or who belongs to me.
It’s too much and not enough.
I start to whimper, but he hushes me, fingers splayed across my ribs, holding me exactly where he wants me.
“You’re safe,” Rowan breathes. “Always safe. Always loved.”
I fall apart for him, quietly, the pleasure blooming low and bright until it’s almost a sigh, almost relief. He holds me through it, rocking gently, his own release slow and perfect, filling me with heat that finally lets my body go limp.
I drift. There’s a moment of pure float, no gravity, no pain, just the warm swirl of water and the Alpha who won’t let anything bad touch me again.
I fall asleep like that—curled in Rowan’s lap, the water already cooling, his heart thrumming steady as a drum.
And somehow, even in the last flicker of consciousness, I know exactly where I am.
Home…in the comfort of my Alphas…experiencing my heat without waves of anxiety and uncertainty…
Heat is a liar. You think it’s gone—wrung out, sated, satisfied.
But then it circles back, teeth bared, and sinks in all over again.
I come awake gasping, body coated in a sheen of sweat, every fold of my skin prickling, desperate and hollow. My thighs are slick, my chest heaving, and the only thought in my head is that I’m empty. Empty, empty, empty.
I roll in the nest, clutching at the blankets, every cell screaming for my pack, my Alphas, for more.
It’s Rowan who appears first.
He’s shirtless, all solid muscle and hero jaw, golden brown skin flushed with the effort of breaking every speed record down the barn stairs. I can smell the cedar smoke on him before I seehis face—molten, lightning-bright, eyes gone near orange in the candlelight.
I don’t have to say anything. The whimper gives me away.
He climbs in, pulls me close, and slants a hand along my jaw.
“More, pumpkin?”
God, yes.
“Need you. Please—I need?—”
He doesn’t tease. Doesn’t ask me to beg, doesn’t make me earn it. He just kisses me, deep and slow, pushing his tongue into my mouth so I taste the bourbon-vanilla on his breath. His hands stroke my hips, tug me into his lap, and his cock is already hard, already ready to fill the ache inside me.
I’m so far gone I’m shaking. I fumble with his waistband, cursing the nest-wrinkled joggers, and he helps, peeling them off one-handed, never letting go of me.
Rowan settles between my thighs, pressing the thick head of his cock to my entrance and holding, just for a breath, just to look me in the eye. “Tell me if you need slower.”
“I want all of you,” I say, voice shredded. “Don’t hold back.”
He smiles—wolfish, gentle, a little broken at the edges.
“Never could with you.”
