Page 80 of Knot the Last Chapter

His eyes soften. He sits on the edge of the bed, close but not touching. “Lila,” he says quietly, “you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. You were in heat. It’s natural.”

I nod, chewing my bottom lip. “Still. It was…a lot.”

That gets a slow grin from him. “We heard.”

My eyes go wide. “Tyler!”

He chuckles. “It’s not like we were trying to. Sound carries in this house, especially from the basement. And… you were loud.”

Heat blooms up my neck. “Oh my god.”

“It was hot,” he adds, voice thickening. “Too hot, if I’m being honest. I nearly broke something trying not to go down there.”

I cover my face. “Stop.”

He reaches out and gently pulls my hands away, eyes warm but intense. “Why? You shouldn’t be ashamed of wanting. Especially not around us.”

The heat flares again, uncoiling low in my belly. I shift, uncomfortable, and he notices immediately.

“You hurting?”

“A little. It’s manageable.”

He tilts his head, considering. “Would it help if I rubbed your back?”

I blink. “Rubbed my back?”

“Massage,” he clarifies. “Help with the muscle tension. Maybe ease some of that leftover heat.”

I hesitate. My body is already too aware of him. His scent is heady this close, all pine and leather and warmth. But my muscles are tight. And I trust him.

“Okay,” I whisper.

He shifts, climbing onto the bed behind me. I turn so my back is to him, and he gathers my hair gently, draping it over one shoulder before placing both hands on my shoulders. They’re large, calloused, warm.

Then he begins to knead.

And I melt.

His thumbs work deep circles into the knots beneath my shoulder blades. I sigh, letting my head fall forward. The tension unwinds slowly, uncoiling like rope.

“God,” I breathe. “That feels… amazing.”

“Yeah?” His voice is rough, low in my ear.

“Yeah.”

He continues, moving lower, thumbs tracing down my spine. Each pass lights a new spark in my belly. I shift again and feel the edge of my heat curl up to meet me. Not a full rise. Just a tease.

He presses closer. I can feel the heat of him behind me, his breath near my neck. The strokes of his hands change subtly—slower, more attentive. He pauses at the small of my back, fingertips dragging back up my spine in a lazy, soothing sweep.

“You’re so tense here,” he murmurs, kneading the flesh near my shoulder blades. “You always carry your stress in your back?”

I hum. “Guess so. Office job… old habits.”

He nods like he understands, then shifts his touch to the curve of my waist. Not improper—barely flirting with the line—but it sends a shiver racing down my spine.

“Your body’s talking to me,” he says. “You’re still not done, are you?”