Page 203 of Knot So Lucky
The vibration of his growl against my chest is hard to fully grasp over the bass, but Ifeelit. The rumble of approval, of want finally unleashed after days of restraint.
Then he's kissing me.
Possessive and claiming, his mouth moving against mine with the kind of intensity that makes my knees weak. One hand comes up to cup the back of my head, fingers threading through my glitter-covered hair, holding me in place while he thoroughly explores my mouth.
Behind me, Cale's lips find my neck. Not gentle—aggressive, teeth grazing my pulse point before his tongue soothes the sting.Marking me, claiming me, making sure anyone watching knows exactly who I belong to.
We're still dancing. Still moving to the music. But now we're also kissing, touching, hands roaming over exposed skin with complete disregard for the public setting.
A part of my mind—the sober, responsible part that's currently overruled by weed and tequila and overwhelming attraction—knows this is risky. We're celebrities in the middle of championship season. Someone could be filming. This could blow up on social media, create scandals, give ammunition to people who already think our pack is just a publicity stunt.
But I don't care.
Iwantto be daring. Want to live unapologetically. Want the world to see that these two Alphas—these fierce, possessive, complicated men—are mine.
Luca's tongue slides against mine, tasting like the whiskey he drank earlier and something uniquely him. His hands tighten on my hips, pulling me impossibly closer, grinding against me in ways that make very clear exactly what effect this is having on him.
Cale's teeth close on my earlobe, tugging gently before his voice—rough and dark with want—speaks directly into my ear.
"You're going to kill us both, princess. Looking like this, moving like this, being so fucking perfect."
I break away from Luca's mouth just long enough to turn my head and capture Cale's lips instead. He tastes different—coffee and something sweet, his kiss slightly softer than Luca's but no less intense.
Luca's mouth moves to my shoulder, biting down on the exposed skin hard enough that I'll have marks tomorrow. Claiming me, marking me, ensuring there's physical evidence of this moment.
The music shifts again, building toward a drop that the entire crowd anticipates.
The energy is electric, everyone moving as one organism, losing themselves in collective experience.
My body is on fire.
Sweat and glitter and the press of two Alpha bodies against mine creating sensation overload that borders on overwhelming. My dress is definitely not covering as much as it's supposed to anymore—shifted with movement until more skin is visible than fabric can hide.
But I don't care about modesty. Don't care about propriety or reputation or what tomorrow's headlines might say.
I care about this.
This moment of freedom and desire and claiming what's mine without apology.
Because these two Alphas—Luca Thorne with his tragic past and defensive walls, Cale Hart with his toxic possessiveness and complicated feelings—are mine.
Mine to claim.
Mine to heal.
Mine to challenge and frustrate and love in ways that defy easy categorization.
And the world—anyone watching, anyone filming, anyone who has opinions about who I am and what I should be—can accept that or get the fuck out of my way.
The bass drops, and we move together through it. Three bodies in perfect synchronization, touching and kissing and grinding without shame.
These two Alphas are mine.
Only mine.
And I'm going to make damn sure everyone knows it.
CHAPTER 40
