Page 27 of Hard Knot

“You should’ve run,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear. “But now that you didn’t…” He lets the words hang, unfinished, as his teeth scrape the sensitive spot just below my jaw.

I shiver, my head falling back against his shoulder.

“I’m not afraid of you,” I whisper, though the tremor in my voice betrays the storm raging inside me. Anything to delay the inevitable. To find an excuse for him to leave, even if my body is desperate to feel every inch of his touch.

His chuckle is dark, rich, and laced with a confidence that makes my stomach flip.

“You should be,” he says, his voice a tantalizing mix of warning and promise.

One of his hands slides up, his fingers wrapping lightly around the front of my throat. He doesn’t squeeze, but the weight of his palm is enough to make my pulse quicken beneath his touch. His other hand stays firm on my hip, holding me steady as his lips claim mine in a kiss that steals what little breath I have left.

It’s not gentle.

It’s fire and hunger, tongues and teeth, a clash that leaves me gasping. My hands fly up instinctively—one tangling in his wet hair, the other gripping his forearm.

The kiss unravels me, stripping away the last vestiges of control I cling to, and I moan into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his growl.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, our breaths mingling as the water streams over us. His hazel eyes burn into mine, molten and unrelenting, and I feel my resolve crumble completely under the weight of his gaze.

“Put your feet on mine,” he says, his voice softer now, but no less commanding.

I blink, confused as I stare up into his playful gaze.

“What?”

His hands slide down my sides, his touch firm but careful as he shifts me slightly.

“Your feet,” he repeats, patient yet insistent. “They’re bruised. Let me take the weight.”

I open my mouth to protest, but the warmth of his hands and the certainty in his tone silence me. Slowly, hesitantly, I lift one foot, placing it on top of his. His grip on my hip tightens, steadying me, and I exhale shakily as I do the same with my other foot.

“There,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my temple as he pulls me closer to him, my back taking in the divine lines of his chiseled muscle.

“See?” he quietly offers into my ear, lightly tugging on my earlobe. “Not so heavy after all.”

My chest tightens, my heart pounding as his hands slide to the front of my thighs, his thumbs tracing slow, deliberate circles. The contrast between his firm grip and gentle touch sends a shiver racing through me, and I can’t stop the soft moan that escapes my lips.

“You’re impossible,” I whisper, my voice trembling despite the flicker of amusement I feel. He smirks against my skin, his fingers clenching possessively on my thighs.

“And you’re mine,” he growls, his voice low and filled with a certainty that makes my pulse skip.

I melt against him, my hands bracing against his arms for balance as my head tips back. In this moment, the weight of everything else fades, leaving only the two of us.

Oddly enough, for the first time, I let myself fall into this potential trap, hoping it’s far from that. Praying that my suffering has finally been heard and the universe is taking pity by bringing me someone who potentially doesn’t want perfection.

Who’s okay with someone as imperfect and untamed…

His chest is pressed firmly against my back, his warmth searing into me despite the cascading heat of the water. Myfeet rest atop his, his strength keeping me balanced as though I weigh nothing at all. My breath hitches as his hardness presses against the curve of my ass, a silent but undeniable reminder of what he wants.

Of whatIwant.

And then his hands.

Oh, God, his hands.

One slides between my thighs, his fingers brushing against my slick skin with an unbearable precision. A whimper escapes my lips before I can stop it, my body trembling as his other arm tightens around my waist, anchoring me against him.

“You’re breathtaking,” he murmurs, his voice a low, husky caress against my ear. His fingers begin a slow, deliberate rhythm, teasing, coaxing, as though he has all the time in the world to unravel me. “Bare and beautiful. And all mine to touch.”

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