Page 40 of Knot My Band: Part Two
“Only for you, Oli,” he responds, and I catch the ghost of a smile on his lips. Every press of his palms spreads a delicious warmth that seeps deeper than skin, wrapping around my heart and tugging with an insistent pull.
And just like that, I feel valued, treasured even, in a way that has nothing to do with the spotlights and the cheers of the crowd. In Dax’s careful touch, I find a sanctuary—a place where I can lay down the mantle of the ever-smiling omega and just be… me.
“Didn’t peg you for the nurturing type,” I murmur, my voice a whisper of silk against the hum of the tour bus engine. There’s no bite to my words, only a wonder that fills the spaces between us with something soft and unspoken.
“Guess there’s a lot you don’t know about me, Olive Hart,” he says with a hint of challenge, but it’s tempered by the tender way his thumb circles the arch of my foot, claiming territory in a dance as old as time.
“Show me then.” My voice is a playful taunt, but the underlying current of sincerity tugs at something vulnerable within him. “Show me everything I don’t know about Daxon Grey.”
His gaze holds mine, a storm of hazel swirling with emotions too raw and real to be concealed any longer. He’s always been a fortress of solitude, but now the gates are open, and I want to explore every hidden alcove, every shadowed corner.
In one fluid motion, I close the distance between us, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw before finding solace in thethick locks at the nape of his neck. His breath hitches as I lean in, my lips brushing his in a kiss.
“Oli…” His voice is a rumble of surprise, a note of uncertainty that fades as our mouths meld together.
The kiss deepens, and I pour every ounce of my gratitude and affection into the slow dance of our lips. The world falls away until there’s only this moment, this connection that thrums with the beating of our hearts.
Dax’s hands come up to cradle my face, strong and sure, guiding me closer as if he’s afraid I might slip away. But I’m not going anywhere—can’t imagine being anywhere but right here with him. His lips are firm yet yielding, moving against mine with an intensity that makes me writhe.
The heat between us is tangible, crackling in the air of the tour bus nest as Dax’s hands roam over me. His eyes, those pools of molten hazel, hold mine with a promise that sends my heart into a wild rhythm.
The nest of blankets and pillows cradles us.
He descends slowly, a predator, yet a tenderness in his touch belies the hunger in his gaze. His breath fans across my heated skin, causing goosebumps to rise in anticipation of the pleasure only he can provide. He hums as his mouth descends to the tender skin of my neck.
The air in my nest is thick with the aroma of desire, an intoxicating blend of his cinnamon roll scent and my excitement.
His lips trail lower, etching fiery paths down my neck and chest, his reverence for me evident.
With a rush of boldness, I reach down and grab the hem of my shirt. My fingers are eager, almost fumbling in their haste to rid me of the fabric that separates Dax’s touch from my skin. The material bunches, lifts, and then it’s off.
“Look at you,” he growls, his gaze intense, worshipful as it sweeps over my exposed chest. There’s a primal edge to his voice. “You’re so fucking sexy.”
I lay back against the pile of pillows that make up my sanctuary. The smirk on my lips is an open invitation, one I know he can’t resist.
He doesn’t disappoint. His hands now roam over my bare skin.
Dax lowers his head, his mouth finding my breast with an intimacy that feels like a secret shared. He licks, taking his time as if savoring every note of my flavor, and I can’t help the way my body sways to the rhythm of his tongue. He sucks gently, reverently.
“God, Oli,” he murmurs into my skin, his breath hot and tickling. “You’re more addictive than anything I’ve ever tasted.”
“I feel the same,” I whisper, my hands tangling in his dark hair, urging him closer.
Dax leaves my chest, kissing down my stomach.
His mouth is pressing hot and wet against my skin. Every inch of me eagerly awaits his next move.
My hands grip his shoulders as if they’re the only things anchoring me in this whirlwind of sensation.
“Is this okay?” His voice is a low thrum, vibrating through my core as his fingers toy with the edge of my pajama shorts.
“Damn it, Dax,” I breathe out, a laugh bubbling up despite the heat pooling inside me. “If you stop now, I swear I’ll kill you.”
That crooked smile I adore flashes across his face, the bad boy glint in his eyes telling me he’s taking my threat as encouragement. He hooks his fingers into my shorts and panties, the fabric sliding down with agonizing slowness, peeling away the last barrier between us.
“Threats, Oli? That’s how you want to play?” Dax teases, but his hands are steady, sure, as he strips away my pajama shorts and underwear, leaving me bare and open to his scrutiny.
“Only if it gets me what I want,” I retort, my voice a mix of challenge and raw need. The air feels cooler on my exposed skin, but the fire in Dax’s eyes promises that I won’t be cold for long.
