Page 62 of Knotted

He pats the bed beside him, and it’s only then that I notice his prosthetic leg resting nearby, detached. My heart gives a little squeeze.

“Does it bother you?” he asks, reading the brief flicker of emotion on my face.

“What? No,” I say quickly. “Grandpa Spenser had one, too, below the knee, just like you. For medical reasons.”

“I forgot about that.” His smile lifts a little as he scoots over, making room on the bed and patting the spot beside him. “Come here.”

I rush to take a seat beside him, feeling the mattress dip as he shifts his weight. “Hang on,” he says, and I hear the grin in his voice. “My hunting knife is in the top drawer.”

“Use it and the next thing it’s used on is your favorite vintage tee,” I snap back.

“Feisty.” He chuckles, but it fades as he reaches out, trailing a finger along the back of my neck, moving aside the last strands of hair.

His touch sends a shiver down my spine, making my breath catch.

Slowly, he begins unbuttoning the long line of tiny buttons, his fingers skimming my skin with each one. The dress loosens, inch by inch, until it nearly slips off.

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“You’re welcome.” Hot breath flames across my shoulders and down my neck.

This is the point where I should be leaving. Standing up. Walking out the door. But I don’t.

His touch, his caress, lingers on my bare skin, sending warmth spreading through me, settling low in my belly. It feels so, so good.

I turn to face him, ready to make my exit, but the moment our eyes lock, everything changes. Before I can process what’s happening, he pulls me into a kiss. And it’s not just any kiss—it’s aneverythingkiss.

Deep. Breathy. Erotic.

When his tongue sweeps through my parted lips, it sends a shockwave straight to my core.

The kiss is so slow and desperate, it knocks all the air from my lungs.

One large hand grips my waist, pulling me flush against him, while the other tangles in my hair, his dominance drawing a soft whimper from deep within my throat.

But then his hand skims my thigh, and reality crashes all around. His words from earlier slam into me like a bat to the chest.“It’s only temporary.”

“Wait!”

The second the word slips from my lips, everything freezes. His hands fall away, releasing their hold, and I struggle to catch my breath against the rhythm of his hard, labored breathing. Our eyes lock—his ocean blue, clouded with something I can’t quite decipher. “What is it?” he asks, his voice rough around the edges.

“This is all wrong. You. Me.” I push myself to my feet, my heart beating wildly—a bird trapped in my chest, desperate to escape. He reaches out, but instinctively I back away, putting distance between us. “I hate you, remember?”

He swallows hard, his head dropping against the headboard in defeat. That enormous dick of his is still straining against his pants, ready to bulldoze its way through. “Yeah, I remember,” he grumbles, sounding like a frustrated kid. “Just...don’t go. I won’t do anything. But I don’t want you leaving. Not like this.”

Like what?

Wound up tighter than a drum, ready to explode, because the thought of me riding the rough stubble of your mouth hasn’t crossed my mind even once.

Not at all.

I catch my breath. “Sooner or later, I have to go.” I remind him. “Temporary, remember?” He reaches out for me again, and I break for the door, rushing from the room.

“Torture,” he hollers after me, and damn it, he’s right.

This is torture.

My body’s lit up like a Christmas tree, every nerve buzzing, and all I can think about is him.

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