Page 20 of Knot So Lucky
"Fine," I sigh dramatically, playing up the martyrdom. "I'm getting out."
He starts to say something, but I'm already rising from the bath.
The water cascades off my body in rivers, soap foam clinging to my curves in ways that would probably be artistic if I weren't too exhausted to care. I know he's watching—know because that's our thing, this surveillance and counter-surveillance game we play. Him watching through whatever cameras he's managed to install, and me knowing exactly where they are and choosing when to give him a show.
Right now, I'm choosing.
The silence on the other end of the line is deafening, and I can practically hear him holding his breath as I reach for my towel. Taking my time. Dragging the soft fabric across my skin slowly enough that he's definitely suffering right now.
Good.
Serves him right for installing cameras in the first place.
I wrap the towel around myself—Egyptian cotton, criminally soft, probably more expensive than it has any right to be—and pad across the marble floor to the walk-in closet.
This room doesn't have cameras.
I made sure of it by hiding the access panel behind a false wall and changing the security code to a riddle Cale's never been able to solve. It's the one space that's truly mine, where I can be Aurora without performance or surveillance, surrounded by the clothes I actually like instead of the carefully curated masculine wardrobe I maintain for work.
The silence from Cale's end of the line continues as I browse through my sleepwear options. I should probably put on something substantial—a full pajama set, maybe, or at least something that covers more than it reveals.
Instead, I grab the Versace silk slip I bought in a moment of indulgent weakness. Deep emerald green that matches my eyes, hem that barely reaches mid-thigh, neckline that dips low enough to be interesting without being obscene.
It's soft as sin against my skin as I slide it on, the silk warming immediately to my body temperature.
"You know I can't see you now, right?" Cale's voice finally comes through the phone, rough with frustration and want. "Whatever you're doing in there?—"
"I know," I interrupt, running my hands through my damp hair. "But be patient, you cocky asshole. You can watch me sleep all night if you want."
The sharp intake of breath on his end is gratifying.
I move to my vanity, grabbing the body oil I've been using lately—something with sandalwood and jasmine that layers well with my natural scent when I'm not drowning in suppressants. The oil's warm in my palms as I work it into my skin, watching myself in the mirror as I go through the motions that have become ritual.
"Are you genuinely okay?" Cale asks, and the concern in his voice cuts through the teasing.
I pause, hands stilled on my collarbone, and consider lying.
Consider saying I'm fine, it was just a long day, nothing to worry about.
"Yeah," I say instead, because I'm too tired for elaborate deceptions. "I'll just sleep early. Get some actual rest for once."
He doesn't say anything, and the silence stretches between us in a way that's not uncomfortable.Just... heavy.Weighted with all the things we don't say, all the boundaries we maintain even as we blur them constantly.
"You can come cuddle if you want," I hear myself say, and I'm not even sure where the invitation came from.
Maybe from the same place that's been aching all day. The place that wanted to lean into Cale when he caught me, that wanted to bury my face in his neck and let his scent wash over me until the suppressants couldn't keep my Omega instincts at bay anymore.
The place that's tired of being alone in this beautiful, pristine, empty penthouse.
I finish with the body oil, rubbing the excess into my hands, and make my way to the bedroom. The bed is massive—California King, because apparently regular kings aren't sufficient for the Lane family standards—with white linens that are changed daily by a cleaning service I've never actually met.
I clap my hands twice, sharp and clear, and the smart home system obediently dims the lights. The city view disappears behind blackout curtains that descend with a mechanical whisper.
The bed is as soft as clouds when I slip under the covers, the silk of my pajamas sliding against the high-thread-count sheets in a way that should be sensual but is really just comfortable.
I should eat something…
The thought drifts through my mind with vague concern, but my body's already shutting down. Exhaustion pulling me under like a riptide, making my limbs heavy and my thoughts sluggish.
