Page 84 of Knot My Band: Part Two
“Look at you now, though,” I say, squeezing his wrist. “You’re here, strong, and part of a pack that’s more family than anything blood could dictate. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. But that doesn’t mean you owe the public your story. It’s okay to keep it to yourself.”
He looks up, finally, hazel eyes meeting mine. There’s a vulnerability that’s rarely allowed to surface, making my chest tighten. This is Dax laid bare, stripped of his defenses, and it’s both beautiful and heartbreaking.
“Thanks, Oli,” he murmurs, and I can tell it’s a big deal for him even to get that much out.
I reach across the island counter, laying my hand over his. “Always,” I say softly, leaning into our connection. “Your past doesn’t define you, Dax. It’s just… backstory, you know?”
He looks at me, and there’s a flicker of something like relief in those stormy hazel eyes. He tries for a smile, but it doesn’tquite reach his gaze. “Backstory, huh?” There’s a rasp in his voice, raw and honest.
“Absolutely,” I affirm, giving him that full-beam smile I reserve for cheering up stubborn alphas. “And look at what an incredible character arc you’ve got. From foster kid to badass bass player? That’s the kind of strength people write songs about.”
Dax chuckles, a low sound that rumbles pleasantly in the air between us. “You gonna write one about me?” There’s that hint of a tease, his walls coming down inch by inch.
“Maybe I will,” I tease back, nudging his shoulder with mine. “But only if you promise to play it with me on stage.” My words are light, but they carry the weight of my admiration for him, for the battles he’s fought and won.
“Deal,” he says, and his smile is more genuine this time, reaching all the way to brighten his eyes. “I wouldn’t be here without all that crap, would I? Wouldn’t have found the pack.”
“Exactly,” I encourage, feeling that familiar rush of pride for him. “You’ve got a family now who loves you for you. Not because they have to but because they want to. That’s worth everything.”
I smile, hoping to chase away some of the shadows lingering in his gaze.
“My dads keep trying to get money from me,” he whispers his confession.
Anger surges through me.
“If they come near you, I’ll—” My words cut off as I watch the muscle in Dax’s jaw twitch. Anger bubbles up inside me, fierce and protective, at the thought of anyone trying to hurt him.
“Oli, it’s fine,” he says, but his voice is a low growl that tells me it’s anything but. “I’ve dealt with their crap my whole life.”
“Doesn’t mean you should have to deal with it now,” I argue, slamming a cupboard shut harder than necessary. Theclatter echoes off the kitchen walls, underscoring my frustration. “Especially not alone.”
“Oli,” he breathes, and there’s a tremble in his voice that mirrors the shaking in my own limbs. “I love you. You know that, right?”
My heart skips a beat, even though it’s not the first time he’s said those words. Each confession feels just as raw and significant as the last. “I know, Dax. I love you too.”
And then his lips crash onto mine, a storm of passion that sweeps away any remaining thoughts. Dax kisses me like he’s pouring every ounce of his love, fear, and desire into it. His mouth moves against mine with an almost palpable hunger, his tongue tracing my lower lip in a silent plea for entry. I grant it without hesitation, tangling my fingers in his dark hair, pulling him impossibly closer.
The kiss deepens, and I can taste the cinnamon sweetness that is uniquely Dax, mixed with the edge of his alpha strength. Our mouths move together in a perfect dance of give and take, which is intoxicating and dizzying. I arch into him, craving more of this connection that sears straight through to my soul.
His hands explore my body with a reverence that makes my skin burn, every touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Our breaths mingle, ragged and heavy, as the kiss grows more fervent. The world narrows down to the space between us, to the heat of Dax’s body pressed against mine, to the relentless pounding of my heart that matches the rhythm of our desperate embrace.
“Oli,” he groans against my lips, the sound vibrating through me, setting off sparks behind my closed eyelids. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Show me,” I whisper back, a challenge laced with need.
I shiver under the heat of his palms, feeling the gentle pinch and roll on my nipples, sending electric pleasure straight to my core.
“Dax…” My voice comes out breathy, thick with desire, as he lowers his head and tugs my shirt down. His hot breath fans over the sensitive peak, and then his tongue is there, swirling around the raised flesh before latching onto his bond mark on my breast. The sensation is like lightning, striking deep within me, igniting fires.
“More,” I gasp, desperate for his friction, connection, and raw intensity. My hands are on him then, fumbling with the button of his jeans because I need him – need to feel him against me, in me. He helps, pushing the denim down his hips just enough, freeing himself.
Dax lifts me onto the counter, which just happens to be the perfect height for his cock to be pressed against my core.
His fingers hook into the sides of my underwear, the lace offering no resistance as it’s torn away. And then he’s pressing into me, and I’m so slick, so ready, that he slides home in one smooth, deep thrust. The stretch, the fullness, it’s overwhelming, and I moan loud enough to fill the room.
“Dax!” It’s a plea, a declaration, his name carrying all the wild emotions crashing through me.
The scent of cinnamon rolls, uniquely his alpha aroma, wraps around us, intensifying the moment. It’s comforting and arousing all at once, spurring me on. My hips rise to meet his thrusts, each movement driving us closer to that edge.
