Page 50 of Hard Knot

"Yeah," he admits, patting the steering wheel affectionately. "I'm the car enthusiast of the group. Each of us has our...particular interests."

"Oh?" I raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "And what are the others into?"

"Felix is all about electronics. Drones, virtual gaming systems…though his games usually involve real people."

I blink, processing his words.

Wait a damn minute…

"I'm sorry, what do you mean by 'real' people?"

Carter's expression shifts slightly, becoming more guarded.

"There are certain games in the underground," he explains carefully. "Think Call of Duty, but with actual stakes."

I stare at him blankly for a long moment before the implications sink in.

"Hold up," I say, turning in my seat to face him fully. "They do realize if they get shot, they're DEAD, right? Like, D.E.A.D dead? Not respawn-in-three-seconds dead?"

His chuckle fills the car again, the sound rich and warm.

"Are you always this funny?"

"You're not listening to me!" I groan in frustration. "You've got that look in your eyes again."

"What look?" He glances at me, his smirk widening. "We just met. How do you know what looks I make?"

Heat rushes to my cheeks as I realize what I've said.

"You know...that look you had after we..." I trail off, remembering his expression post-shower activities. "When you look all dreamy and handsome and shit."

The Ferrari slows to a stop on the private road, and Carter turns in his seat, reaching out to cup my chin. His touch is gentle but firm as he guides my gaze to meet his.

"Maybe," he says, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that makes my stomach flip, "that means I want you riding my cock right here."

My face flames even hotter.

"But—but the car will get dirty!" I sputter.Maybe I should be concerned with him wanting to fuck here…though which sane Omega would say no?"This is expensive!"

"I eat McDonald's in here," he shrugs. "It'll be fine."

"Carter!" I practically screech. "This is a Ferrari SF90 Stradale! You can't just—wait." I catch his expression changing which only makes my already tingling body go all hot and electric with his clear obsession with me. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

His smirk grows impossibly wider.

"How exactly do you know the specific model?"

I freeze, realizing I've given myself away.

The truth is, I'd recognized it immediately—the distinctive front end, the aerodynamic silhouette, the unique exhaust configuration. But I wasn't ready to admit that I spent countless hours studying car magazines, dreaming of vehicles I could never afford.

I mean, I have enough savings to probably purchase one, but who wants to spend half a million on a car and let it sit collecting dust because you’re stuck at an academy that doesn’t give a damn.

Fancy cars are meant to be shown to the world. To speed down the roads, roaring their engines so the world around you can acknowledge and gleam at its crispy glory. Not hidden in garages, or in my case, in my Dad’s hidden garage with his favorite vehicles, he collects for shits and giggles.

Either way, didn’t think my vision board obsession with vehicles would pay off.

"I... um..." I fidget with the hem of his blazer. "Maybe I know a thing or two about cars."

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