Page 39 of Knot Your Romeo

“Never,” I say, turning to face her. “Just...making sure you’re certain. Once we cross this threshold, everything changes.”

She steps closer, her amber eyes steady and sure. “I told you by the lake, Eli. I’m choosing you. All of you.”

The conviction in her voice breaks the last of my restraint. I unlock the door and guide her inside, immediately pulling her into my arms. This time, when our lips meet, there’s no hesitation, no gentle exploration. Just hunger and need, and three years of loneliness finally finding its answer.

Jolie melts against me, her hands fisting in my shirt as she kisses me back with equal fervor. Her scent—that impossible sunshine warmth—fills my cottage, mixing with the familiar smells of home to create something entirely new. Something that feels so right.

“I’ve wanted this since that first night in the garden when I found you with Romeo,” I confess against her lips, my hands roaming over her back, memorizing every curve. “Wanted you.”

“Then you have me,” she whispers, and the simple offer nearly brings me to my knees.

My mouth lands on hers as I guide her toward the living room.

We stumble slightly as we dance around the furniture, laughing breathlessly against each other’s lips.

When the back of my legs hit the sofa, I sink down, pulling her with me. Jolie settles onto my lap, straddling my thighs. The position bringing our bodies into perfect alignment, and I can feel the heat of her even through our clothes. My hands span her waist, holding her steady as she rocks against me.

“You’re so beautiful,” I murmur, trailing kisses along her jaw to a spot just below her ear. “So perfect.”

She shivers at the contact, her head falling back to give me better access. “Eli, please...”

The breathy plea undoes me completely. My hands find the hem of her hoodie, tugging it upward. She raises her arms without hesitation, letting me strip the garment away. Underneath, she’s wearing a simple cotton bra that somehow looks more erotic than the finest silk.

“Your turn,” she says, her fingers already working at the buttons of my flannel shirt.

I help her push the fabric from my shoulders, watching her eyes darken as she takes in my bare chest. I’m not gym-buffed and hairless like my brother. My body is hard from working the land and I don’t care to shave. She seems to like it. Her hands explore tentatively at first, then with a growing confidence, she maps the planes of muscle and the scars that tell the story of a life lived outdoors.

“You’re incredible,” she breathes, leaning down to press kisses across my collarbone. The feel of her mouth on my skin makes my Alpha purr with satisfaction. This is what I’ve been missing, what I’ve been denying myself for years. Not just the physical pleasure, but the emotional intimacy, the sense of completion that comes from being with someone who truly sees me.

I roll us over, pressing her back into the soft cushions of the sofa. She looks up at me with such trust, such desire, that my chest tightens. “Are you sure about this, sunshine?”

“Don’t call me that,” she says, but there’s no heat in it. “It makes me feel too much.”

“Too much what?”

“Like I might fall in love with you.” The admission hangs between us, raw and honest.

I cup her face in my hands, studying every detail of her features. “Would that be so terrible?”

“Terrifying,” she corrects softly. “But not terrible.”

I kiss her. She responds eagerly, her legs wrapping around my waist to pull me closer. The new position brings us into intimate contact, and we both groan at the sensation. My hands explore the soft skin of her torso, reverent and worshipful.

When I reach the clasp of her bra, I pause, giving her time to object. Instead, she arches against me, silently granting permission.

When the bra falls, the sight of her bare breasts takes my breath away. She’s perfect—all soft curves and creamy skin that flushes pink under my attention. I lower my head to worship her properly, drawing one peaked nipple into my mouth.

“Oh God,” she gasps, her back arching as her hands fist in my hair. “Eli, that feels…"

I lavish attention on her breasts, alternating between gentle kisses and firmer pressure until she’s writhing beneath me. Her slick is soaking through her pants as her scent grows heavier, richer, telling me exactly how much she’s enjoying my ministrations.

“I need more,” she pants, tugging at my hair to bring my mouth back to hers. “Please, I need more of you.”

She pushes at my shoulders, and I pull back, confused. But then she’s sliding off the sofa, sinking to her knees on the soft rug between my legs. The sight of her there, looking up at me with dark eyes and swollen lips, nearly stops my heart.

“Jolie,” I start, but she’s already reaching for the button of my jeans.

“Let me,” she says simply. “Let me take care of you.”

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