Page 178 of Knot So Lucky
The jazz trio transitions into something slower, more sensual, the saxophone carrying a melody that makes the room feel even more intimate.
I can't help myself.
I lean across the table, close enough that Aurora has to tilt her head back slightly to maintain eye contact. Her pulse is visible in her throat—rapid, excited, anticipating what I'm about to do.
I press my lips to that pulse point, feeling her heartbeat against my mouth. Then I let my teeth graze the sensitive skin before closing my lips andsucking.
Aurora gasps, her hand coming up to grip my shoulder while I mark her deliberately. Not hard enough to hurt, but definitely hard enough to leave a hickey that will be visible tomorrow.
I pull back slowly, admiring my work. The mark is already forming—a lovely purple-red against her pale skin.
"Elias," she breathes, voice shaky with arousal.
"Maybe I can stay over tonight," I suggest, keeping my voice low and intimate. "Continue this properly without the constraints of public spaces."
Her grin is immediate and delighted.
"We have an early morning tomorrow. Training starts at six."
"That shouldn't stop us." I wink, enjoying her flustered response. "I'm excellent at functioning on minimal sleep when properly motivated."
She giggles the sound so genuine and unguarded that it makes my chest warm.
“We’ll see.”
We order dessert—tiramisu to share because Aurora admits she's too full for an entire serving but desperately wants to taste it. The waiter brings it with two forks and a knowing smile.
The walk back to the car is comfortable, Aurora's hand tucked into the crook of my arm while I guide her through the narrow streets. The night air is cool against skin warmed by wine and attraction, carrying the scent of the city at night.
I open her door, wait for her to settle, then circle to my side with rising anticipation.
The drive back to the Celestine Towers is quick, traffic light at this hour.
Aurora hums along to the music playing softly through the speakers, completely relaxed in ways I rarely see her.
We pull into the underground garage, and I park in the guest spot closest to the elevators.
"I left the leftovers in the car," I say as we walk toward the elevator. "The restaurant packed them up—there's enough risotto for lunch tomorrow. Let me get you settled in your suite, then I'll come back down and grab them."
Aurora nods, leaning against me slightly as the elevator rises. The exhaustion from the race, the wine, and the emotional intensity of the evening is clearly catching up with her.
I walk her to her door, wait while she unlocks it, press a kiss to her forehead before she disappears inside.
"I'll be right back," I promise.
Then I'm heading back down, ostensibly to get the leftovers but really to give her a few minutes to prepare for my return.
The underground garage is quiet, my footsteps echoing against concrete. I retrieve the takeout containers from the car, carefully balanced in one hand while I lock up with the other.
On my way back to the elevator, I pass the mailboxes—the old-fashioned kind with individual locked compartments for each resident.
Aurora's mailbox catches my eye.
There's something taped to the inside of the small glass window. A piece of paper, folded once, positioned so it's visible but wouldn't be noticed unless you were specifically looking.
My blood runs cold.
I set down the takeout containers and carefully extract my lockpick set from my pocket—tools I carry out of habit more than necessity, but useful in moments like this.
