Page 113 of Knot Their Arrangement

Every gasp, every shiver, every subtle shift of my body toward his – he catalogs it all, using the information to drive me further into this spiral of growing pleasure.

Time seems to slow as Rhett's hands trace reverent patterns along my skin, each touch carrying years of unspoken longing. His lips trail down my neck with deliberate care, pressing gentle kisses that speak of devotion rather than mere desire.

The tenderness in his touch brings tears to my eyes – how different from the forceful claiming I'd been raised to expect.

His emerald eyes meet mine frequently, checking for consent with each progression of intimacy. The care he takes makes my heart ache, remembering how even as teenagers, he always ensured I felt safe and respected. That consideration has only deepened with time, refined by experience into something that makes my soul sing with recognition.

"You're still so beautiful," he whispers against my skin, the words carrying wonder rather than possession.

The complement brings heat to my cheeks, but I don't look away.

Instead, I let my fingers trace the planes of his face, memorizing the ways time has refined his features. The boy I knew has grown into someone magnificent – strong yet gentle, powerful yet controlled.

When our clothes begin to feel like barriers, the removal of each piece becomes almost ceremonial. Every newly revealed patch of skin is welcomed with reverent touches and soft kisses.

There's no rush, no desperate grabbing – just careful exploration and mutual appreciation.

His scent wraps around me like a cocoon, that intoxicating blend of dark chocolate and black cherry growing richer with his rising desire.

The mint undertone keeps me alert to every sensation, while that raw sugar note makes me feel drunk on pure feeling. Combined with my own responding aroma, we create something new and beautiful – a perfect harmony of complementary notes.

We take our time rediscovering each other, making up for years of separation with thorough dedication. Every sigh, every shiver, every whispered endearment adds another layer to this reconnection.

When we finally find ourselves beneath his sheets, skin against skin, the moment feels sacred rather than rushed.

I should stop this.

The doubt and fear settles in as I worry falling into his tempting touch is going to force him to face consequences again. It’s stupid to think that way when things have changed. We’re no longer kids, innocent and trying to run from the madness of our lives for just a few days, but now more is at risk, while our lives can race in a coaster of highs and threatening circumstances.

The truth could linger in my face and I still wouldn’t be able to push him away. I’d rather pretend this is a fever-induced dream where I can surrender to the Alpha I never stopped craving.

“Kamari.”

My name leaves his lips in a groan, his forehead pressed against mine as he braces himself, his hand framing my left cheek with an aching kind of reverence, while I hear the belt buckle come undone of his pants. That’s the only barrier left between us. Those pants that hide that thick long length of his that my pussy is aching to be filled with.

His breath is heavy, ragged, a stark contrast to the way he tries to hold himself back, his self-control barely holding by a thread.

"You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this," he murmurs, his voice like gravel and heat, thick with the desire that pulses between us. "To find you again. To finally make it known I still exist in this forbidden world.”

My Omega instincts rise to the surface, clawing at me, demanding I let him take what was always meant to be his. I arch beneath him, my body already desperate, my slick betraying every unspoken word.

"Why didn’t you show yourself earlier" I whisper, my fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, needing to drown in this moment.

“Because power talks,” he declares like he’s revealing a forbidden word that only few get to grasp with their own ears. “And bullshit listens. I had to ensure when I returned, I could do what I wanted and not fear the consequences.”

Without consequences…

The groan that leaves him is primal, his lips crashing against mine as if he’s been starved for this — starved for me. His hands explore my body with a possessiveness that makes my toes curl, mapping out every inch of skin, relearning me, branding me as his.

"Fuck, Kamari," he growls as he trails open-mouthed kisses down my throat, his tongue teasing the sensitive spot where my pulse races. He nips at it, not quite biting, but the promise is there, hanging between us like an unsaid vow. “Damon said I shouldn’t do anything…that the damn doctor said we should let you rest.”

Rest?

How am I supposed to rest when my body feels like it’s on fire all over again? Prickles of lust blended with impatience deems it impossible to calm from this arousal until given the opportunity to ease it with what we know to do best between Alpha and Omega.

I shudder beneath him, my body arching into his touch.

"Please," I pant, not even sure what I’m begging for—only that I need him, need more, need everything.

---