Page 99 of Knot for Me
“Reagan.” Lucas’ husky tone washes over me. “Focus.”
Fuck. My scent is always betraying me.
“I am,” I snap, scowling at him over my shoulder.
He inhales and raises his eyebrows.
“So like I was saying, two on one. Lucas will hit from the back, and I’ll get your front.”
I know he’s talking about fighting, but there’s no way he’s not making some sort of sexual reference. This is Marco we’re talking about.
“Maybe we should get Cory in here, make a threesome out of it.”
“That would be a foursome,” Lucas corrects, stepping closer. “And if that’s what you want, I’ll gladly call him in.”
I bite my cheek and curse my smart ass for needing to make stupid remarks all the time.
“Two is good for now.”
“I’m going to touch you,” Lucas says, hot breath caressing my bare shoulder.
“Okay,” I say on a near pant.
I’m a weak ass bitch when it comes to these alphas.
Unlike my dirty thoughts, Lucas’ touch is clinical. No roaming and no groping. I’m honestly not sure if I’m disappointed or relieved about that. It isn’t until Marco steps in front of me that I realize Lucas is holding me exactly how that asshole did the other night: arms clamped around my waist.
“Now. When I come in here”—Marco comes closer so our chests touch—“what are you going to do?”
“Guess it’s a bad time to make a sex joke?” I laugh nervously, hating the way my heart rate kicks in an irregular pattern, my mind flashing back to those alphas from last night.
“It’s us, Reagan. You’re safe, but you need to make a decision. How are you getting out?” Marco asks.
Lucas remains a quiet, intimidating presence at my back.
“I tried to head butt him, but he dodged it.”
“Then don’t do that,” Marco says, the picture of patience. His eyes are gentle but firm, making me find my own way out of this.
I hold his gaze, noticing the flecks of gold in his irises. “I’ll drop all of my weight on his arms?”
“Are you asking me or telling me that’s the solution?”
“Uh, I guess showing.” I drop my weight, my shoulder crashing into Marco’s body and forcing him back. Lucas’ grip loosens enough for me to shove my arm between his hold and my body and twist out of it. Marco is there in the next second, grabbing me in another hold. This time he wrenches my arms behind me and pins my back against the wall.
“Now what?”
I breathe in, hints of a smoky bourbon filling my nostril. That’s not Lucas’ scent. That’s all Marco. The bastard is turned on right now. I wrench against his hold and buck my hips, but he only tightens his grip, pulling my arms so hard it starts to hurt.
“What now, Reagan?” His face is inches from mine, his arousal more potent with every passing second.
I can’t think of a way out of the hold, at least not without cheating. Leaning toward him, I brush my lips over his. He sucks in a hard breath, and as soon as his fingers loosen, I yank my hands back and stomp my foot against his instep, smirking when he curses and stumbles back.
“Fucking hell.”
Deciding I’m done being manhandled, I set my foot behind his and shove him hard. Marco topples to the ground, but before I can step away, he grabs my ankle and pulls. I go down and have enough sense to spread my legs so I don’t knee him in the face. The end result is me straddling his face. I’d have to be completely immune to men to not feel something. My body responds to our proximity, my arousal curling around his bourbon scent and trying to convince me having mates isn’t so bad.
“Well, that’s one way to end a fight,” he says with a wink, pupils fully dilated and eyes hooded. “You smell different.”
