Page 13 of Knot the Last Chapter

I clutch the phone to my chest, still trembling. I’ve never felt this connected to anyone. Never opened up like this.

Not just physically. Emotionally, too.

He makes me feel like I’m not just an omega who’s in the lowest moment of her life.

He makes me feel seen.

Chapter seven

Pine (Tyler)

She goes quiet after her last message.

I stare at my phone for a long time, thumb hovering over the keyboard, heartbeat still thudding hard in my chest. Part of me wants to ask her—What would you do to me, sweetheart?I want to hear her say it. To know what she'd imagine if the roles were reversed.

But I don’t.

Not now. She sounds tired. Spent in that beautiful, wrecked way that makes my instincts curl and growl.

So instead, I send a single line:

Take care of yourself. I’ll be thinking about you.

I toss the phone gently onto the arm of the couch and lean back, stretching until my spine pops. Sunlight filters in through the tall windows of the sitting room, throwing golden stripes across the wooden floor. It’s too warm for how tight I feel in my skin. My shirt sticks to my back. My jeans are a damn cage.

Lila.

Her name is a pressure point behind my ribs. Her scent isn’t here—but I imagine it. Bright and warm, something likewildflowers and the pages of an old book. She’d trusted me with a part of herself. Let me guide her. Invited me in.

I groan softly, dragging a hand down my face. I’ve got no one to blame but myself when I glance down and find I’m still hard. Not that I was expecting anything else. One word from her and I’m keyed up like a teenager.

I shift, unbuttoning my jeans enough to free myself, exhaling roughly. My hand wraps around my cock, already hard and throbbing. I stroke slow, dragging my palm over the tip, gathering slick.

I close my eyes.

She’s on her back in my mind—bare, flushed, her fingers trembling as she touches herself. Eyes half-lidded, lips parted, legs spread wide like she wants me there. Wants more. And I’d give it. Every inch. Every word.

You’d be such a good girl for me, wouldn’t you? Let me take control, tie your wrists, make you mine.

I imagine leaning over her, whispering that into her ear, watching her body respond before I’ve even touched her. The way she’d pant. The way her thighs would clench. The way she’d beg.

My hips shift against the cushions, chasing the friction, my hand tightening. I breathe through clenched teeth, the pleasure crawling up my spine like fire and lightning.

“Fuck, Lila…” I murmur into the empty room.

I picture her—curled against me on the couch, flushed and lazy after, lips swollen, eyes gleaming. She’d tease me for being worked up so easily, but I’d see the satisfaction in her smile. That I came undone from her words alone. That I chose her.

I stroke faster, chasing that edge. Not frantically—deliberately. Drawing it out. Letting the fantasy expand.

Lila on her knees, looking up at me through thick lashes.

Lila with her thighs trembling from being pushed to the edge.

Lila.Mine.

Pleasure breaks over me with a groan. I spill across my stomach, hips jerking, every muscle tightening as her name stutters off my tongue. I ride the aftershocks with slow, dragging strokes, until I’m nothing but a lazy sprawl of limbs and heat and need.

Eventually, I reach for the box of tissues and wipe myself clean like some teenager, heart still thudding hard in my chest.