Page 75 of Hard Knot

"Never," Carter had declared with drunken solemnity, though he was swaying dangerously. "You're mine to keep now."

What happened next is a bit blurred in my memory, though certain moments stand out with stark clarity. The way Elizabeth's expression had softened at his words, the way Carter had looked at her like she was something precious and wild all at once.

They'd ended up...

I shake my head, trying to clear the images that follow. Even through the alcoholic haze of last night, some things were impossible to forget—though I probably should, for the sake of everyone's dignity.

But one thing stands out clearly: the pure, uninhibited joy in both their faces.

It was like watching two people who'd been wearing masks their whole lives finally let them slip, if only for a few hours.

When was the last time any of us had laughed like that?

I lean back against the garage wall, having to scoot back a bit and allow myself to nurse the remnants of my drink as I recall my observation of unfolding chaos between Elizabeth and Carter.

The two of them are pressed together on one of the armchairs, their heads close, their laughter spilling into the air like music. Carter’s dark eyes are locked on hers, a look I haven’t seen him wear in years—unfiltered awe mixed with hunger.

I’m trying not to think about it, as if it’s not a good memory to revisit again and again, but it keeps replaying in my mind, forcing me to remember tidbits that begin to come together and replay like a movie.

“She’s so fucking hot,” Carter murmurs, almost to himself, his voice low and reverent.

“She is sitting right here,” Elizabeth giggles, a sound so warm and sultry it slides through the room like smoke. She tilts her head coyly, her platinum hair tumbling over her shoulder. “Besides, you’re pretty handsome yourself,” she teases, her words slightly slurred from the alcohol. “But, shhh. Don’t tell him.”

I’m fighting hard not to laugh at the memory.

Carter chuckles, raising a hand to his mouth and mimicking the motion of zipping his lips.

“My lips are sealed.” He smirks, his gaze dropping to her mouth. “Though I might need some extra help with that.”

Elizabeth grins, leaning closer, their faces mere inches apart.

“I can help with that.”

Without hesitation, she bridges the gap, her lips capturing his in a kiss that starts soft but deepens quickly. Carter’s hand finds her waist, pulling her fully onto his lap as they lose themselves in each other.

From where I sit, the scene is mesmerizing. Elizabeth’s curves mold perfectly against Carter’s frame as they kiss like the world beyond this room doesn’t exist. There’s no hesitation in her movements, no coyness — just raw, unrestrained passion.

I feel the heat rising in my own body, a flush that starts at the base of my neck and spreads upward. It’s probably the alcohol, though the way Elizabeth moves is enough to make anyone’s blood run hot.

Her hips shift slightly, grinding against Carter as his hands slide to her thighs, gripping her like he can’t bear to let go. The room feels charged, every breath thick with pheromones and tension.

“It’s hot,” I admit to no one in particular, my voice rougher than I’d intended.

Elizabeth breaks the kiss first, her lips swollen and glistening as she turns her head toward me. There’s a wicked glint in hereye, the kind of look that tells me she knows exactly the effect she has on the both of us.

“Hot, huh?” she says, her tone teasing as she slides off Carter’s lap with the grace of a predator. She stretches her arms overhead, arching her back as though she’s loosening up for a performance.

“I wonder…” Her voice trails off as she saunters toward the center of the room, swaying her hips in a way that makes it impossible not to watch. She spins to face Carter, her hands brushing down her sides as she tilts her head. “Should I dance for my Alphas to distract you from the heat?”

Carter groans, his head falling back against the chair.

“Yes,” he growls, his voice thick with anticipation. “Fuck, yes.”

Elizabeth grins, her expression playful but laced with something darker. When she looks my way, I give her an approving smirk while bobbing my head. Watching her dance is clearly a turn on I don’t yet want to acknowledge, but it doesn’t hurt to enjoy the show.

At least try to hide my hard-on with the low lighting of the kitchen.

The opening notes of a new song fill the kitchen —Into the Gardenby 070 Shake & JT. The pulsing beat wraps around her like a second skin as she begins to move.

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