Page 126 of Knot Unwanted: Part Two

In the background, music plays from Finn’s phone—pop songs that have him jerking his hips and dancing around me.

I laugh when he deliberately bumps his butt against mine. Still chuckling, I turn to the sink, rinsing the bowl for the dough. Through the kitchen window, I catch glimpses of Jax as he patrols the perimeter of the property, phone to his ear as he coordinates with the security team he’s hired. Two men in plain clothes survey the wider grounds, their presence a reminder that despite the laughter in the kitchen, we’re still in the middle of something dangerous.

“He’s been out there for hours,” Finn says, following my gaze. “Third circuit this morning.”

“He’s worried,” I whisper. But even though I know I’m the reason for this worry, all I feel is warmth in my chest. They love me. Care for me.

“He’s obsessing,” Finn corrects gently. “But at least he’s not locking us in the basement.”

I snort. “Such mercy.”

“Hey, with Jax? Progress is progress.” Finn reaches across me for a jar of tomato sauce, his arm brushing mine.

I turn my attention back to the dough, adding warm water and olive oil to the flour mixture, just like the cookbook says. As I begin to knead, Finn steps behind me, peering over my shoulder.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he says, his breath warm against my ear.

“Really?” My face falls. I thought I was doing it right.

“Absolutely,” he confirms, pressing closer. “You need to put your whole body into it. Like this.”

His hands cover mine, guiding my movements as he demonstrates a more vigorous kneading technique. His chest presses against my back, his hips aligned with mine in a way that’s not entirely innocent.

“See?” his voice drops as he remains at my back, pressed into me. “Much better.”

I laugh, but it comes out breathier than intended. “You’re not helping with the pizza at all, are you?”

“I’m supervising,” he corrects, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just below my ear. “Very important role.”

“Mmhmm.” I try to focus on the dough, but it’s increasingly difficult with Finn’s body molded against mine, his scent enveloping me.

The kitchen has become warm, and not just from the preheating oven.

“The dough needs to rise,” I say, my voice unsteady as Finn’s hands slide from my wrists to my waist.

“Does it now?” he murmurs, turning me to face him. “How long?”

“About an hour.”

Those impossible gray eyes darken as his fingers tighten on my hips. “Whatever shall we do with all that time?”

Before I can respond, he lifts me effortlessly onto the counter, stepping between my legs. The bold move is so unlike the Finn I first met—cautious, hesitant, always aware of not upsetting me and making me feel comfortable at all times—that it momentarily steals my breath.

“This okay?” he asks, his confidence faltering briefly.

In answer, I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him closer. “More than okay.”

His smile is brilliant as he leans in, capturing my lips in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly deepens. His tongue traces the seam of my mouth, seeking entrance that I eagerly grant. One of his hands tangles in my hair, the other gripping my thigh as he presses closer, the hard line of his arousal evident against my core.

I moan softly into the kiss, my hands clutching at his shoulders. The bond between us pulses with shared desire, amplifying every sensation so much, I can hardly breathe.

Finn breaks the kiss to trail his lips down my neck, pausing to pay special attention to the marks there. The claiming bites still send shockwaves of pleasure-pain through me when touched. When his tongue traces the outline of his own mark, my hips buck involuntarily against his.

“Finn,” I gasp, my fingers threading through his hair.

He hums against my skin, the vibration sending goosebumps cascading across my flesh. His hips roll against mine in a deliberate grind that has me whimpering against him.

“You taste like sunshine, sunshine,” he murmurs against my collarbone. “Like home.”

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