Page 65 of Knot the Last Chapter

Chapter thirty-seven

Lila

Idon't know who this girl is.

She's bold. She's reckless. She straddles a mountain of an alpha and kisses him like her life depends on it.

And somehow, she’s me.

I’ve always thought I was the sensible one. The girl with a plan. The calm voice in the storm. But tonight, I’m not calm. I’m not in control. And for once, I don’t hate it.

I’m the real mystery here.

The second Tyler dares me to reveal if I’d belong to a pack, I draw my kissing card out. He looks at me with surprise and amusement, and then something dark and unreadable when I head to his brother. Rhys’s chest is solid beneath my hands, his body heat rising through his shirt, his scent curling around me like a storm cloud about to break. The firelight catches in his eyes, making him look darker, hungrier. My breath comes in little gasps, but I don’t stop.

I lean in. Our mouths meet.

The first kiss was a dare. A tease.

This is possession.

His lips are rough and sure, parting mine with a growl so deep it vibrates in my chest. I gasp against him, but he takes it as an invitation. His tongue slips past my lips and I moan, hips rocking forward on instinct.

That’s when I feel it.

Hard. Huge. Undeniable.

Rhys’s hands grip my waist, pulling me tighter against him, and gods, I want to melt into him. One of his hands slides up my back, under my shirt, fingertips trailing fire across my skin. The other anchors me to him, a silent promise that he’s not letting go.

Somewhere behind us, I hear Tyler inhale sharply. Corwyn mutters something under his breath—either a curse or a prayer.

I deepen the kiss, my fingers tangling in Rhys’s hair. He growls again, low and possessive, and I can feel it—feel him—everywhere.

Then I remember to breathe.

I break the kiss, lips tingling, chest heaving. Rhys looks wrecked. Like he’s run a marathon barefoot through a lightning storm.

“Damn,” he breathes.

I laugh, soft and breathless. “Yeah.”

The tension in the room crackles. No one moves.

Corwyn clears his throat. “Well. As the only one here with a shred of self-control left —” Rhys groans. Tyler doesn’t look away. “—I propose a movie, before someone does something irreversible. Also, Lila is still healing. Remember?”

I blink. Right. The storm. The rain. The injury. The whole almost-dying thing.

Tyler stands, moving toward the entertainment cabinet, and Corwyn saunters to the couch with faux nonchalance. Rhys gently helps me off his lap, his hands lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

“I’m fine,” I say, cheeks blazing. “Really.”

“You sure?” Rhys asks, voice low, sincere.

“I just need to… cool off. Maybe splash some water on my face.”

“Translation,” Corwyn calls from the couch, “she’s about to combust.”

I flip him off over my shoulder, but as I turn toward the hallway, I meet Tyler’s gaze. He’s watching me like I’m the only light in the room. No anger. No jealousy.