Page 93 of Knot That Serious

She nodded, breath coming short, gently unwinding the bun with careful fingers as he kissed closer to where he could see her glistening.

“Ready?” he asked.

18. Still Pretending?

Beckett

“What do you think she’s doing?” Jack asked.

Beckett groaned and trailed his lips back up Jack’s abdomen until he could meet those molten brown eyes.

“I thought you wanted a distraction?” Beckett asked. “So should I assume that’s a rhetorical question?”

Jack pursed his lips. “You can assume whatever you want. Why’d you stop?”

Beckett cocked his head. “Because I assumed mentioning Eli in bed was a hard no.”

Jack cursed. “It’s just driving me crazy. Did you see him?”

“Oh, you mean for the five total seconds you let me look through the peephole?”

“It was longer than five seconds,” Jack argued. He did not sound convincing.

Beckett let his weight slowly collapse atop Jack until his breath tightened, legs and hips and cocks and chests slotting together. “I do have eyes. I saw him.”

“And he was so hot, right?” Jack asked.

Beckett nodded. “Yeah, he was hot.”

Really fucking hot. Everything Beckett used to think an alpha was supposed to be. Tall and muscled in a fucking sweater with hair L’oréal would sponsor.

“He’s an architect,” Beckett shared, because he knew it would piss Jack off.

Sure enough, his brow furrowed. “Fuck, really?”

“Yep,” Beckett said, lowering his head to mouth at the corner of Jack’s jaw.

“That’s like, a notable career. Shit, he’s probably loaded. And smart. Real alpha mater—ah—material,” he finished with a breathy gasp as Beckett nipped at his neck.

“He built the Vine Tower,” Beckett continued.

Jack gasped out an expletive. “Impressive fucker,” he whined.

“They literally ran into each other on the street. Kinda like me and you,” he added.

Jack moaned an unhappy sound. “Noo, I don’t wanna hear that.”

“Yeah, you do,” Beckett argued, lips smoothing up Jack’s throat. “Because the alternative is to let the bitter curiosity eat you alive.”

“I can think of something else I’d rather be eaten alive by,” Jack mused.

Beckett snorted, but continued his venture south. He dragged his lips along Jack’s chest and abs, nipping at the sharp point of his hip.

Wrapping his hand around Jack’s length, he brushed his lips over the head just as Jack asked, “Do you think she’s gonna let him fuck her?”

Beckett huffed out an annoyed breath and sat up.

“Hey—what—oof!” Jack grunted as Beckett grabbed him by the hips and flipped him over.

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