Knot Today: Hiddenverse, page 31
“Let me,” I whisper, leaning in to kiss him again. But this time it’s different. Hungrier. More sure. I’ve already made the choice, and now I just want to feel it. All of it.
Hunter groans low in his throat, his hands sliding to my waist as I rock against him. The sensation of him growing hard beneath me urges me on.
“I thought you were tired,” he teases.
“I’m not,” I murmur against his lips. “Not with you.”
His hands roam, slow and reverent, but I don’t give him control this time. This time it’s mine.
I lean back just enough to tug my shorts down my hips, shimmying them over my thighs and kicking them off the bed. My panties follow, landing somewhere on the floor with the rest of my self-control. Then I add my shirt and bra to the pile.
Hunter watches me, eyes locked on every movement, memorizing the moment—burning it into his brain.
I reach between us, popping his button open and tugging the zipper down, the sound is loud in the quiet space between our breaths. I raise up slightly, and he pushes his jeans and boxers down to his knees, freeing himself with a hiss through his teeth.
His cock juts out from his body—dark, thick, hot, and already hard for me.
I don’t hesitate as I shift over him, guiding him against me in a way that makes his jaw clench, his gaze darken. And then I sink down onto him, slowly, deliberately, taking everything he gives me.
Hunter’s head falls back against the pillows with a groan that vibrates through me. His hands grip my thighs, but he doesn’t guide me. Doesn’t rush. He lets me move at my own pace. Lets me take him how I need.
And I do.
I roll my hips in a slow, deliberate rhythm, feeling every thick inch of him stretch me, fill me. The slide is deep, intoxicating, dragging sparks along every nerve ending until I can’t think past the feel of him.
His eyes find mine again, and something clicks into place. Something heavy and right and real. I see it there—his restraint. His reverence. His want.
“Willow…” he whispers my name. His fingers flex against my thighs, holding on just enough to stop himself from flipping me, from taking over.
I lean forward, hands braced on his chest, and his skin is so warm beneath my palms. He smells like butter pecan ice cream and something deeper—something purely Hunter—and it curls low in my belly, blooming outward in waves.
“You feel so good,” I whisper, my lips brushing his. “You always do.”
His breath hitches. One hand slips up my back, cradling the nape of my neck. Sending tingles in its wake. The other lifts to cup my breast, his thumb sweeping across my nipple in a way that makes me shiver and clench around him.
“God, princess,” he groans. “You keep doing that and I won’t last.”
“Who says I want you to last?” I tease, breathless, pressing a kiss to his jaw, then his throat. I can feel the pulse hammering beneath his skin, wild and fast, matching mine.
But still, I don’t chase the end.
I savor it. The heat. The tension. The quiet sounds that escape him with every move of my hips. The way he looks at me—as though I’m his whole world and he’s terrified he might break it.
I lower myself fully against his chest, his cock still deep inside me, and press a kiss just beneath his ear.
“I want you to knot me,” I breathe, and feel him shudder beneath me. “I want to feel it. All of it.”
He turns his head, eyes blown wide, searching mine, checking for hesitation.
“Willow…” he murmurs, voice wrecked. “Are you sure?”
I nod, slow and certain, letting my lips brush against his again. “I’m yours,” I whisper. “And I want you to knot me and claim me.”
He exhales a shaky breath, his arms wrapping around me tight.
“Fuck, Willow—”
I rise and fall, setting the pace, my body claiming his as surely as he claimed my heart. There’s no fear in me anymore. Just need.
When his knot starts to swell, I don’t hesitate.
I lean in, brush my lips against his ear, and whisper, “Mark me.”
His entire body goes still.
“Are you sure?” he rasps.
I pull back just enough to meet his eyes. “Yes, I want you to. I want it to be you. If you’re ready…I am.”
His gaze searches mine, something raw and disbelieving in it.
“You’re sure?” he asks again with disbelief in his tone, his voice breaking. “Because once I do, I’m never letting you go.”
I smile, tears stinging my eyes. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
His mouth crashes against mine—hungry now, no longer soft. It’s the kind of kiss that leaves no room for doubt. The kind that burns.
I gasp into him as his hands grip my hips, holding me steady as he thrusts up, deep and slow. There’s no urgency, just intensity. Full-body, mind-splitting intensity.
He’s everywhere.
Under me. Inside me. Around me.
And with every roll of his hips, I feel the base of his cock beginning to swell, thickening just enough to make me whimper.
“Hunter…”
He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, and the look in his eyes is fierce, almost worshipful. “That’s it, omega. Let me feel you. Let me make you mine.”
My body answers for me—slick and eager as I rock against him, chasing the pressure, the fullness, the promise of something deeper.
He groans, head tipping back again as the swelling knot inside me begins to catch, tugging against my walls in a rhythm that sends a tremble up my spine.
Then, all at once, it locks.
I cry out, my head falling to his shoulder as he knots deep inside me, the stretch perfect, overwhelming. My muscles clamp around him, drawn tight with release.
“That’s it, princess,” he whispers against my skin. “Take it. Take all of me.”
And I do.
I fall apart around his knot, body trembling, mouth open in a soundless moan. My nails dig into his chest as he holds me through it, rocking slow and steady, his hands never leaving my body.
My vision goes hazy. My breath stutters. And somewhere in the middle of the haze, his teeth brush against the soft skin of my neck, and then—he bites.
It’s not painful. It’s precise. A claiming mark placed low, where only someone truly intimate would ever see it. Where it means something.
My breath catches. My heart stops.
A low sound rumbles from his chest, somewhere between a growl and a purr as his scent floods over me, mixing with mine in a heady swirl of heat and home.
The bond flares to life—instant and powerful. I feel him in my chest. In my mind. Every part of me sings with it.
His arms wrap tighter around me as I slump against him, knotted and marked, boneless and blissed-out.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, lips brushing my temple. “You’re safe. You’re mine.”
I nod, eyes fluttering closed, my body melting into his.
“I love you,” I murmur.
His arms flex around me.
“I love you too, Willow.”
I don’t remember falling asleep.
But I remember the way he held me, his arms strong and steady. The feel of him still thick inside me, his knot keeping us joined as the bond settled between us.
When I stir, the first thing I feel is his lips against my hair.
Soft. Unhurried.
“Hey,” Hunter whispers.
My lashes flutter open. The sun has shifted slightly, streaking across the bed in late evening rays. We’re still tangled together, skin to skin, the bond humming between us.
“How long was I out?” I murmur.
He chuckles. “Not long. Maybe twenty minutes. You were purring like a kitten the whole time.”
I flush, but I don’t pull away.
His hand strokes my back in long, soothing motions. My skin feels hypersensitive, every touch from him sending tingles down my spine—but it’s comforting, not overwhelming. The kind of intimacy I didn’t even know I craved until it was here.
“I didn’t hurt you?” he asks quietly, brushing a thumb along my jaw.
“No,” I say, and I mean it. “You didn’t.”
His shoulders ease, a breath of relief slipping out as his eyes flick to my neck. To the mark he left there. Wonder and happiness fill his face as his eyes trace the bite.
“You’re mine,” he says. “Really mine.”
“And you’re mine,” I whisper back, trailing my fingers over his chest. I haven’t marked him yet, but I will. I know I will. Because what we have is forever.
He leans in and kisses me again—gentle this time, all warmth and promise. Then he shifts us carefully, sliding out of me now that his knot has deflated, and I whimper softly at the loss.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, wrapping a blanket around me as he helps me sit up against the pillows.
He’s already on his feet a moment later, pulling up his boxers and jeans—though not buttoning them—moving around the room with quiet purpose. He brings me water first, holding the glass to my lips until I drink. Then he disappears out the door for a moment before he’s back with a warm cloth, gently cleaning between my thighs with so much care it makes my throat tighten.
“You don’t have to—”
“Shhh,” he cuts in softly. “I want to.”
I let him.
Every touch is filled to the brim with love. Every glance, full of something deeper than I have a name for.
Once he’s done, he crawls back into bed and pulls me against his chest again, covering us both with the blanket. His scent wraps around me, anchoring me to the moment, and I feel my entire body start to relax again.
“Do you regret it?” he asks after a long beat, voice almost too soft to hear.
“No,” I breathe. “Not for a second.”
He exhales with relief.
Then he kisses my temple, lingering there for a beat before whispering, “I think I started falling in love with you the moment you swatted at my back and called me a brute for picking you up and throwing you over my shoulder, after you tried to walk home ten miles in heels.”
I blink up at him, the corners of my lips tugging into a smile. “You were a brute.”
“Still am.”
“But now you’re my brute,” I murmur, tucking myself against his chest, letting his scent wrap around me.
His chest shakes with a soft laugh, the kind that’s only meant for me. “Damn right.”
And with his warmth wrapped around me and his hand stroking lazily over my spine, I let my eyes flutter closed.
And his rumbling laugh is the last thing I hear before I drift off again.
CHAPTER 61
Graham
Hunter’s the first one I see when the bedroom door creaks open. His shoulders are loose, more relaxed than I’ve seen them in weeks. But it’s Willow behind him—barefoot, cheeks pink, her hair a soft, tangled mess, in my hoodie—that really gets me.
She’s glowing.
And I know.
Even before she tilts her head to nudge into his side, before she smiles up at him like she’s safe for the first time in a long time—I know.
My eyes drop to her neck.
The mark is faint, still fresh, but it’s there. Right below her pulse, lower than a normal mark. A soft crescent, unmistakable. If she were in her clothes, I wouldn’t even see it.
My chest tightens.
I want to say I’m surprised. That I didn’t see this coming. But I did. Anyone with eyes could’ve seen the pull between them.
Hunter’s gaze finds mine, and there’s something defiant in it—defiant and protective. He’s ready for me to say something. Maybe even expecting it.
But I just nod.
Because what am I gonna do? Be angry that she’s trusting us? That she’s choosing one of us in that way?
No. I’ll never punish her for giving her heart away. Especially not to someone who’s been proving he deserves it every damn day.
Still, I feel the burn of something bitter at the back of my throat. Not jealousy, exactly. Just…ache.
Because I want that too.
And I know it’ll come. She’s already halfway mine in the way she looks at me, the way she bites back her sass when I bark orders, the way her scent goes soft and warm when I’m near.
But for now, I let Hunter have this moment—because he earned it. And because Willow deserves someone looking at her like she’s the only thing in the world that matters.
She glances at me, uncertainty flickering in her eyes, afraid of what I’ll say.
So I give her the truth.
“Looks good on you,” I murmur, nodding toward the mark. “He did it right.”
She exhales, her shoulders relaxing. Hunter’s arm tightens around her waist.
I move back toward the kitchen, not because I’m avoiding them, but because I need a second to ground myself. I grip the counter with one hand, jaw tight. I’ve never been the jealous type, but something about seeing that mark on her…knowing Hunter got there first…
It stirs something deep.
Something primal.
But I breathe through it, squeezing my eyes shut, because this isn’t about me.
It’s about her.
Footsteps pad softly behind me, and I don’t have to turn to know it’s her. The soft scent of peaches and warm sugar wraps around me, sweeter than it’s ever been. Bonded. She’s bonded now. To one of my pack mates.
I glance over my shoulder just as she stops beside me, a faint nervousness in her expression.
“I didn’t plan it,” she says quietly, as if she owes me an explanation.
She doesn’t..
“I know.” I study her face, the way her lips tug to one side, and the way she can’t quite hold my gaze.
“It just…felt right. In the moment.”
I nod. “I’m glad you didn’t hesitate.”
Her brows lift slightly, surprised. “You are?”
“Willow…” I exhale and face her fully. “I want you marked. I want you protected. I want you cared for in the way you deserve. I’d be a hypocrite to be angry that it wasn’t me first.”
Her mouth parts slightly, something unspoken hanging between us. “You’re okay with this?”
My voice is low, steady. “More than okay.”
A quiet beat passes between us. Her fingers twitch at her sides. I close the distance and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, watching the way her lashes flutter at the touch.
“You’re still mine,” I murmur. “Even if it takes time. Even if we’re building this forever pack one bond at a time.”
Her breath catches. “Forever pack?”
“Forever and always, sweetheart.”
Behind her, Carson whistles—low and exaggerated. “Okay, okay, if this turns into a kissing contest, I’m gonna need popcorn. And a turn…because we all know I’m the best kisser.”
Willow laughs softly, glancing over her shoulder at him.
I let my fingers brush down her arm as I step back to lean against the counter. But not too far.
Never too far.
Because now, the scent of her bond lingers in the air—sweet and warm, threaded through with Hunter’s alpha musk—and it only makes me want mine all the more.
“You’re really okay with this?” she asks again, voice lower now, meant just for me. “With… taking our time?”
I nod. “I don’t want a rushed bond, Willow. I want a real one. The kind that lasts.”
Her lashes lower as she swallows. “I’m trying to believe I deserve that.”
“You do,” I say instantly. “You deserve everything we can give you, for the rest of our lives.”
Willow’s smile lingers, the echo of a promise, soft and private between the two of us.
She’s still in my sweatshirt—bare legs curling under her as she slides onto the barstool, hands wrapping around the glass of water she left there earlier. It fits. This moment. Her here. Us here. It all fits so well, it almost hurts.
I turn back to the oven, checking the pan-roasted chicken that’s crisping perfectly beside the foil-wrapped potatoes. I pull the pan out and pull down some plates. Steam wafts off of it, rich with garlic and rosemary. The green beans are already sautéed—just waiting on the stovetop.
Behind me, I hear Carson’s bare feet pad across the floor. He rounds the kitchen island like a man on a mission, his gaze on the stove top.
“Kitchen’s smelling like seduction in progress,” he says, peeking over my shoulder. “What are you making, Casanova?”
“Pan chicken. Herb baked potatoes. Green beans with lemon zest,” I mutter, plating a piece of chicken with practiced ease. “Food. Real food.”
“Sounds fake,” Carson deadpans, grabbing a potato off the pan and popping it in his mouth. “Where’s the indulgence and bad decisions?”
“Staring at me while stealing my potatoes.”
Willow laughs behind me, and I swear, it’s the sound of something healing.
I turn to find her watching both of us with wide eyes, the water glass halfway to her lips. “You really made all this?” she asks.
I nod and set a plate in front of her, a pile of herb potatoes, the chicken still steaming, and green beans perfectly bright.
“Thought you deserved something warm.”
Carson circles the island and leans on the back of her chair, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who didn’t cook a damn thing.
“You’re gonna spoil her,” he says, brushing her hair off her shoulder.
“I plan to,” I reply, watching the way her breath catches.
Willow lifts a bite of chicken to her mouth and moans. Actually moans.
Leaning against the kitchen island, Hunter freezes mid-sip of his coffee. His eyes flick to her mouth, then to me, then back to her.
Carson groans. “Nope. Nope. That’s it. If we’re doing this now, I demand a second plate. Preferably with a ring and a lifetime commitment.”
Willow snorts into her fork, cheeks flushed with amusement. “You’re ridiculous.”
Carson does a half-bow as he takes the seat next to her. “Thank you. It’s part of my charm.”
