Page 65 of Ready or Knot

“Of course,” I say, not able to stop my voice from lowering. She shivers, her eyes dilating and her scent surrounding us, and I groan. I coax the tablet from her hands and set it atop my laptop, kissing her to distract her, and then stand up, my arms wrapped tightly around her back and knees. She giggles into my mouth as I start across the condo, her cheeks flushing the longer I hold her tight to me.

Her gaze is curious as I step into the bedroom and ease her back onto her feet. I leave the light off, closing the door and brushing past her to my ensuite, prepping for bed while she decides what she’s most comfortable doing. When I walk back out, she’s curled up on the far side of the bed, her head perched on her arm as she twists the quilt between her fingers. Her gaze is locked on the city beyond the windows, but there’s a tightness to her expression, a slight frown that has my heart lurching.

“You alright?” I ask, leaning against the bathroom door, crossing my arms.

She glances at me, her cheeks pink.

“I…think so,” she says after a long hesitation, her throat rippling as she swallows. “I’m not used to feeling so out of control. It’s…difficult to adjust to.”

My gut clenches. “We should have had you opt for a slower step-down,” I say, but she’s quick to shake her head. She pulls her hand away from the quilt and holds it out to me, a thread of vulnerability in the way she holds her shoulders. I don’t hesitate to take the offer, crossing the space and settling in behind her, pulling her against me as I wrap my arm around her waist. She hums, and I trace her throat and shoulder with my lips, a featherlight touch that calms her more than anything else up to this point.

“I don’t like the idea of me slowly feeling this way over a long period of time. I would have thought I was developing an anxiety disorder,” she murmurs after a while. “This way I know it’s my designation. It’s just…” She blows out a breath, grasping my arm with both of her hands. “I don’t think I ever realized just how visceral all of it is. It was always just something I knew in my head, like how I have green eyes and freckles.”

I kiss the sensitive spot just under her ear that I found while on the hike. She leans her head back, giving me more space, and I take it, kissing and sucking her throat until she’s pushing back against me and her scent drowns the room. I stop her hand as she reaches back for me, and she whines.

“Sleep, Faedra,” I whisper in her ear.

She protests, but she doesn’t push for more, and after another few minutes, she’s limp in my hold, her breathing slow and even.

It takes me another ten minutes to remember how to sleep.

Twenty-Six

FAEDRA

The sun is bright through the windows, blinding me as I wake all at once. Jude’s arms are still around me, but we’ve rolled so that I’m laying across his chest, my nose pressed into the crook of his shoulder. I’m careful as I roll off of him, not wanting to wake him before his alarm goes off. His face is peaceful in sleep, none of the wariness he carries present, and it makes my gut clench.

Bonding is another one. Obviously that isn’t one I can decide to do on my own.

Bonding still feels too intimate, too unnerving. But the idea of seeing him like this all the time, of knowing what goes on in his mind when his eyes are distant and his face stoic is almost tempting enough to have me entertaining the idea. As if spurred by my thoughts, Jude’s eyes flicker open, focusing nearly immediately on me.

“Good morning,” he says, his voice rumbling through the room, sending a lick of arousal through me.

My scent surrounds us before I can control my reaction, and he groans, grabbing my knee and pulling it over his hip. He lays hard and heavy against me, and I grab his shoulders, using them as leverage to roll over and straddle him, the feel of him urging me on.

“I like this kind of greeting,” he murmurs, grabbing my hips and pushing up into me. “Every time I manage to be the first one awake, I get these little extra bonuses. Almost makes me a morning person.”

The corner of my mouth tips up before I pull off my shirt and toss it on the ground. Jude doesn’t hesitate, sitting up enough to take my nipple between his teeth and pull gently. I whine and press down on him, arching my hips, trying to find the right pressure against my clit.

“So impatient,” he murmurs, blowing against my wet nipple, making me gasp before turning his attention to the other, pulling more forcefully than before.

“Don’t make me beg,” I moan, scrabbling at the waistband of his sweats and pushing them down just enough that his cock springs free. He grunts when I take him in hand, stroking him with a tight hold, flicking my thumb across the head and smearing the bead of pre-cum.

“I like hearing it, though, Fae,” he whispers, flicking his tongue over my nipple again. My breath catches, and he pushes aside my panties, running his thumb through my pussy before circling my clit. “All your little whimpers and mewls and gasps. It’s nearly as intoxicating as your scent.”

“You like it? My scent?” I ask, stroking him with a tighter hand, smiling as he grunts and thrusts up into me, holding my hips still as he rubs the head of his cock against my clit.

“Fuck yes,” he mutters.

I smile and stroke him faster. The musk of his own scent envelops me, blending with my jasmine until they overpower the room, and I moan, massaging my breast and tensing my thighs to relieve the building ache. His lips curve into a sly grin.

All at once, his hands tighten on my hips, lowering me until my pussy rubs against his cock, forcing my stroking to stop.

“Ride me,” he mutters, looking up at me, his eyes burning.

Desire consumes me, a rush of heat spearing my core, making slick drip down my thighs. Even still, nerves get the better of me.

“I’ve never been on top,” I whisper.

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