Page 113 of Knot By Design
I shrug with a grin. “Up to her,” I say, glancing at Norah.
“I don’t mind,” she says, and I catch that soft edge of her voice, warm but guarded.
He restarts the Harry Potter movie, and we settle back into a rhythm. My hands move through her hair with care, braiding each section, tugging just enough to keep it tight but comfortable.
She tilts her head, resting against my shoulder at times, whispering soft comments about the film and laughing when something catches her. I feel that low coil of desire in my chest tighten again.
“You know,” Ryker says casually, “I’m glad you two got to talking.”
Norah hums softly. “I’m not saying yes to anything,” she murmurs, eyes fixed on the screen.
Ryker chuckles lightly. “Have you talked to Dorian since he didn’t show up at work?”
“No,” she says, quiet, hesitant.
I keep working, my fingers deftly weaving a braid down the back of her head. The feel of her hair through my hands, the subtle warmth of her neck, the faint scent of her perfume—everything is a rush.
We do nothing else, just this, the intimacy simmering beneath, low and potent. Her hand brushes mine as she adjusts herself, and I catch the briefest shiver along her spine.
I brush a stray lock from her face and press a soft kiss to her forehead.
“Pretty,” I murmur.
Her lips curve, a small smile forming, and Ryker’s voice cuts through, smooth and low: “Very fucking pretty.”
I glance at him, a half-smile crossing my face. He doesn’t look away, but there’s no judgment in his tone, just acknowledgment of what’s right in front of him.
Norah tilts her head, a soft laugh escaping, brushing her fingers along the braids I’ve done. “Thanks,” she says quietly, almost reverent.
I adjust the pillow behind her again, careful to keep her comfortable. I let my fingers trace the length of the braid I just made, tugging it slightly, feeling the texture, the softness, the warmth of her shoulders against me.
She leans her head back again, eyes closed, trusting me completely, and it makes something inside me coil tighter.
Ryker takes a long drink from his beer, still watching us. He smirks. “This is… nice. I like seeing you like this, Jude.”
I brush a hand along her neck, hiding the small shiver that goes through me. “I’m just trying to be happy.”
Norah hums softly against me.
I watch her, tracing the contours of her face with my thumb, memorizing everything, and knowing the night has changed us.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Norah
I’m sittingon the floor, legs tucked a little under me, still dizzy from the closeness on the couch.
Jude’s hands in my hair feel like fire along my scalp, the massage, the careful braiding—it’s intimate in a way I don’t entirely understand. Every tug, every press of his fingers against my skin has my heart hammering and my stomach twisting with want.
Ryker’s across from me, leaning on the edge of the coffee table, his eyes dark, watching everything. I can feel the way he’s looking, the way his gaze slides over me and Jude. My body reacts before my brain can catch up.
Once Jude finishes the last twist of my hair, he leans forward, lips brushing the back of my neck. The teeth graze my skin lightly, and I can’t help the moan that slips past me.
It’s automatic, primal. I’m aware of it immediately, mortified and aroused at the same time.
Ryker’s hand tightens around the beer bottle he’s holding. His jaw is rigid, his tongue sliding across his teeth. I feel the tension radiating off him, the raw need in the room like a tangible thing pressing against my chest.
I feel small, exposed, an Omega in the middle of two Alphas. And yet… my body is keyed, every nerve ending tuned to them both.
