Page 61 of Knot what I want for Christmas
“It has?” Hollie says, cheeks bright pink.
“-- but I think you know,” my friend says, licking all that delicious smelling mess from his lips.
“You’re a fucking asshole,” I growl. Has he forgotten what we talked about? Our agreement to give this girl the space she needs?
“What’s your problem?” Hollie says, snapping her legs closed and scowling my way.
“Clay and Nash are both in agreement,” Tucker says, addressing Hollie but keeping his gaze locked on me, “that we shouldn’t be messing around with you, Hollie.”
“Why not?” she asks, clearly hurt and makingmefeel like the asshole and not Tucker.
“You only just lost your mom,” I say softly. “You’re vulnerable and–”
“I already told you,” she says fiercely, “to stop treating me like you’re scared you might break me.” And then, before I understand what’s happening, Hollie Bright is on her feet and marching toward me. She doesn’t stop until she’s right in front of me. I’m expecting a slap, or at least a firm talking to. Instead, she fists her hands into my wet jacket, lifts up onto her toes and kisses me hard on the lips. It lasts five deliciously long seconds. Then she snaps back her head, peers up at me with those piercing blue eyes and tells me, “I want this. I want you. The question is, doyouwantme?”
“Of course, I fucking do,” I growl, dragging her right up against me and kissing her back, just as hard, just as passionately, just as hungrily as she kissed me. She melts into my arms and I slide my hand down her body, over her ass to the hem of her oversized sweater. Then, I glide my hands under that sweater, finding her pantiless and bare.
It tips me right over the edge. I have no more self control to give. I want Hollie Bright. I’ve wanted her for a very long time. No more waiting. No more reservations. I’m going to have her.
I groan into her mouth and hitch her up off the floor. Automatically, she wraps her legs around me and, still kissing her mouth, I carry her straight through to the far room of the cabin. A room we built and decorated when we erected the cabin. A room that’s never been used. A room that’s been waiting for a moment like this.
As we step through and I kick the door closed behind me, she breaks off our kiss and tips back her head, gaze darting around the room – at the sky light above us (buried under snow), at the oversized bed with all its covers and cushions, at the plush carpet and curtains, at the fairy lights strung around the room, at the armchairs and sofa.
“Is this … is this a nest?” she asks, eyes wide with wonderment – an expression that has my alpha pride well and truly stroked.
“Yes, it is.”
“It’s gorgeous,” she purrs. She swings her gaze back to me and smiles ever so sweetly. “Are Tucker and Nash going to be joining us?”
“You want that?” I ask, almost afraid of the answer, afraid to wish for it as hard as I am.
“Yes, I want that, because I like all of you.” My heart stutters in my chest and I’m forced to close my eyes and breathe. “Clay, is that a bad thing?”
“Fuck, no, it’s the best thing.” I open my eyes and smile at her.
“It is kind of fucked up though, isn’t it?”
“It’s natural, Hollie. You were designed to be a pack omega.” Designed for us. I can’t believe this is really happening. It’s like all my Christmas wishes coming true all at once. “Have you ever done it with more than one person before?”
“No.” The idea obviously turns her on because she whimpers, grinding her hips against mine. Fuck, this girl is needy and dripping with slick. She’s every alpha’s dream. “But I want that so badly.”
“And we’re going to give it to you, baby. But first,” I swallow, “I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to get you ready, all nice and wet and pliant for the three of us. But also because, I’m fuckingselfish, Hollie, and I want you to myself for just a little bit. Is that okay?”
“It sounds more than okay,” she tells me. “It sounds perfect.”
I place her down on her feet, shrugging off my wet coat and slinging it to one side. I left my wet boots and gloves at the front door and so I stand there in my damp pants, socks and sweater, unable to tear my eyes away from the woman in front of me - her caramel hair wet and disheveled from the storm, her cheeks rosy from whatever antics Tucker had been up to, blue eyes radiant.
“Erm Clay,” she says, eying me in the same way I’m eying her. “What the hell is that?”
She points at my chest and I glance down at the sweater I’m wearing.
“It’s my Christmas sweater.” There’s a picture of a cowboy boot in the middle with big red lettering that reads ‘Howdy Holidays’ above it. I hasten to add, I did not choose this sweater.
“Clay Jackson owns a Christmas sweater?”
“Annie and my mom insisted I get into the Christmas spirit. They made me wear it.”
“And you, being a grown man and an alpha, had no choice but to comply.”
