Page 45 of Knot So Lucky
CHAPTER 8
Test Drive Turbulence
~AURORA~
"Get your horny ass away from me," I grunt, shoving at Cale's chest with both hands. "We're atwork."
The garage is already bustling with activity around us—techs prepping equipment, engines being tested in the distance, the particular organized chaos that comes with a high-performance racing facility operating at full capacity.
And here's Cale, still looking at me like he wants to bend me over the nearest toolbox and finish what we started this morning.
His Alpha pheromones are spiking with want, burnt cedar mixing with something muskier, more primal. It's making my suppressants work overtime to keep my Omega biology from responding in ways that would be catastrophically obvious.
"Hmm." He hums thoughtfully, but instead of backing off like a reasonable person, he pulls me in closer.
One hand fists in my coveralls—the same grease-stained uniform I put on this morning while he watched with predatoryinterest—and his mouth crashes against mine with bruising intensity.
The kiss is hard and possessive and absolutely inappropriate for our current location. His tongue demands entry and I give it for just a moment—just long enough to feel the heat of him, taste the lingering coffee and bacon from breakfast—before I bite down on his bottom lip.
Hard.
He pulls back with a wounded noise, hand flying to his mouth where I can see the indent of my teeth. His grey eyes are wide with betrayal, bottom lip jutting out in a pout that would be adorable if I wasn't trying to maintain professional boundaries.
"Ow."
"Good." I huff, rolling my eyes and shooing him away with both hands like he's an overenthusiastic dog. "Now go. Shoo. We have work to do."
But he's still close enough that I can feel his body heat, can smell the way his scent mingles with motor oil and rubber in a combination that my hindbrain finds disturbingly appealing.
"You know," I mutter, pitching my voice into the lower register I maintain as Rory, "we're going to give off major bromance vibes. I look exactly like my brother, remember?"
The words taste bitter on my tongue because it's true. Roran and I are identical in every way that matters to outside observers—same sharp features, same blonde hair with strategic highlights, same storm-green eyes, and star crescent tattoo placement. The only real difference is what's hidden under our clothes, and that's not exactly something people check before making assumptions.
Cale shrugs, completely unbothered by the implication.
"Wouldn't be the first time I've dealt with that shit."
"What's that supposed to?—"
"Well," a third voice interrupts, dry with amusement, "let's hope we don't spark anything with how everyone's losing their minds this afternoon."
I turn to see my twin brother approaching, and my immediate reaction is equal parts relief and annoyance.
Roran walks toward us with that particular swagger that comes naturally to successful racers. He's in his team racing suit, the sleek material designed to be both fireproof and aerodynamic, with sponsor logos plastered across his chest like badges of honor.
"Roran," I groan, using the opportunity to push at Cale again. "Tell your ‘friend’ to stop being clingy."
But Cale's still trying to hug me, arms wrapping around my shoulders from behind in a way that would look friendly to casual observers but feels deliberately possessive. His chin hooks over my shoulder, and I can feel him grinning even though I can't see his face.
"Getoff."
"But you're warm."
"I'm also at work, and you're being a pest."
Roran stops a few feet away, crossing his arms and giving us both a look that's somewhere between exasperation and resignation.
"You two done?"
