Page 80 of Knot By Design
I slide my fingers out slowly, and she whimpers. I lick them clean, savoring her taste, her shiver making me hard all over again.
She moans low as I pull her in for another kiss, teeth grazing, her biting into my lower lip, making me shudder with the sharp bite of pleasure.
I pull back, grinning, seeing the flush in her cheeks, the way her lips still glisten. “Now,” I say, voice low, teasing, “will you say thank you?”
“Asshole,” she breathes, but the corners of her mouth tug up, that small smile lighting her face. I can feel her pulse in her throat, the heat still radiating off her, and it drives me insane.
The sudden chime of the door makes us snap apart, startled. Our hands linger a moment too long before she steps aside, adjusting her dress.
“Mrs. Coldwell,” she says, voice sharp but hiding a flush, moving past me as if she’s composed.
I take a moment to straighten myself, buttons straining, chest heaving. When I turn back, she’s facing me, cheeks pink, eyes still sparkling.
Mrs. Coldwell’s gaze sweeps over us, sharp and assessing. “Was I interrupting something?” she asks.
“Not at all,” Norah says quickly, shifting her weight, voice clipped but warm under the tension. She’s trying too hard, and it makes the ache in my chest twist. She likes me; I know it.
I grin, letting a long moment stretch between us, enjoying the heat in her eyes. “I’ll see you later,” I say, voice steady but low. “About six.”
She shakes her head without meeting my gaze, stepping past me, giving me a glimpse of that perfect curve of her ass as she disappears down the aisle.
I can’t stop smiling. The way she avoids my eyes, the way her lips twitch despite her composure, tells me more than any words could.
The scent of her clings to me, the taste of her still lingering on my tongue, her warmth pressed into me, leaving marks only I will remember.
My fingers twitch, remembering the softness of her thighs, the way she came apart under my touch, and the thought alone makes me harden again.
I shake my head, letting a small laugh slip past my lips. We both lost our damn minds, forgetting where we were.
“Norah,” I murmur, and the sound feels like a promise. I grin, imagining her biting her lip, trying to be mad at me even as she wants more.
The door chimes again, breaking the spell, and I shake myself, letting the tension stay coiled. She’s pretending like we’re not both still buzzing from what just happened.
And that’s fine. I’ll let her enjoy it a little longer.
I walk to the car, watching the street below, feeling the pulse of her memory in my chest. Every shiver she gave me, every gasp, every tremble pressed against me, I carry.
I’ll see her again, later, at six. I’ll see that smile she tries to hide, that spark in her gaze that betrays her, that little crack in her armor where she wants me more than she’d ever admit.
And when I do, I’ll make sure she doesn’t forget a single second of it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Ryker
I’m drivingdown the street toward B&B, craving a steak, thinking I’ll give Jude time to breathe, time for him to talk and bond with his niece, when something catches my eye.
The flower shop’s lights are still on, almost ten at night.
I can’t explain why, but I slow the car and park. Snow’s coming down in thick sheets, covering the street in a soft white.
I step out, boots crunching against the frozen pavement, and push the door open. She’s sitting on the floor, knees drawn to her chest, a half-empty bottle of wine at her side.
Her hair is messy, falling across her face, and her eyes are red. She looks up at me, startled but not hiding what’s there.
“Norah,” I say, voice low, not wanting to startle her. “What are you doing here?”
She swallows and hiccups, a small, broken sound. “Being a fool,” she admits. “Being a dumb fucking fool.”
