Page 23 of Knot Going Down (OlympicVerse #3)

EMILY

T he wind lifts my hair just enough to make me regret not bringing a hair tie.

Moonlight glints off the ridiculous flamingo-topped golf club in my hands as I line up my shot.

Lucas is facing me from the other end of the little green, waiting for us to catch up.

Declan stands beside me, shoes on fake turf, and I wonder why the man didn't wear sandals. I haven’t worn anything but flip flops since we were welcomed aboard.

“You’ve got terrible form,” he says, nudging my elbow with his.

I raise an eyebrow, aiming for a flirty look I’m not sure I execute properly. “I’m literally three over par.” I’m ad-libbing wildly. I don’t know how to keep score in golf. But I think par is the goal.

His laugh is deep and easy. “ Under par would mean you’re winning. And we’re not keeping score because I’ve already won.”

Declan’s sultry look has something pittering in my chest.

“If we were keeping score,” he continues, “You’ve tripped over two fake rocks, sent a ball overboard by accident, and somehow managed to knock your club into your own foot four times, baby.”

Baby. I file away every little term of endearment.

“I was distracted by your forearms,” I offer in defense of myself.

He grins and comes to stand behind me. Reaching around to adjust my hands on the club, his chest brushing my back. It’s the kind of move that would be cliché if he weren’t so annoyingly warm and good at smelling like cedar and possibilities.

My eyes catch on Lucas, just far enough that he probably can’t hear us, but he’s watching every move like he’s memorizing the look of us. He licks his lips, and my pulse leaps.

“Relax,” Declan murmurs. “You’re gripping the club like it owes you money.”

“I’m gripping it like it’s hiding drugs,” I say before I can stop myself.

His arms tense a little. Blink and you’d miss it.

I am so bad at this! Subtle, Em. Real subtle. I still can’t believe he admitted to having the drugs. Now, I just need to get him to tell me where they are.

“Kidding.” I laugh quickly to cover my blunt slip. “Unless this flamingo is full of suppressants and cocaine, in which case—points for creativity.”

He laughs too, but his smile is tighter now.

The need to turn this around is counterbalanced by the desire to find out where those drugs are. Ava was so distraught over it all. I need to help her. Seems like that’s what I was put on this earth to do—help my omega friends keep their designation a secret. I can do this.

Spinning in his arms, I kiss Declan’s neck, savoring the strength of his scent. “I bet you thought of a much better place to hide Knox’s pills. No flamingos. They’re probably…” I wrack my brain trying to think where he might have put them. “In a safe or something, right?”

He grips my chin gently between his fingers and guides my head up. “Why are you asking about the suppressants, Emily?”

Emily. No baby now.

I swallow thickly. “No reason. I was just trying to compliment you.”

He doesn’t let go, the touch searing into my embarrassed face.

“I was trying to flirt, okay?” I blurt out.

“I was trying to flirt, and I’m clearly not very good at it.

” My pout is entirely genuine as I turn away from him.

With a deep breath, I take my shot. The ball ricochets off the ceramic dolphin obstacle before dropping into the cup with a satisfying plunk.

“That’s a hole-in-five,” I say smugly, hopefully turning things around and getting his focus off me.

“A new course record,” Declan counters with a pleased smile, walking toward where Lucas waits at the next hole.

“That was good, Emily. You are improving.” Lucas smiles as he looks behind me at Declan. “The personal tutelage is helping. Perhaps Declan can give me a few pointers, too.”

The heat in his gaze is entirely unmistakable. The thought of the sun-kissed rugby player with legs for days and the surly federal agent with a chest like a god has me squirming.

“You both are menaces.” Declan grabs my hand and pulls me after him toward the next hole.

“I will own up to that,” Lucas says with a smile. “Bonus chapter in the expanded Beta Handbook: How to Ruin the Mental Stability of Emotionally Repressed Sexy Alphas. ”

“I’m not emotionally repressed,” Declan scoffs, but I’m inclined to agree with Lucas.

“I’m only a menace when I’m over-stimulated,” I say. “Diving keeps me focused.”

“Are you over-stimulated right now?” Declan’s thumb grazes my wrist.

“I’m perfectly stimulated.” And I mean it. And, holy shit, that was a successfully flirty line!

“Sometimes it is fun to be over-stimulated,” Lucas says as he drops his ball onto the fake grass. He winks at me as he takes his shot, which means it goes wildly off course. He doesn’t seem to care.

Declan wraps his arm around my middle, his hand spanning from under my breast to the waist of my skirt. It’s a possessive move, but it does nothing to cool the look Lucas is giving us.

Being over-stimulated isn’t sounding so bad right now.

Not when it’s with these two. My heart does a little lurch remembering all my teenage fantasies of having a pack, being surrounded by people who love me and love each other.

I imagine Lucas crossing the few feet between us, pressing into my front as Declan presses into my back, each of them kissing along the column of my neck.

Warmth flares through my body, and I wonder if this is what it’s like to be an omega in heat.

Only a hundred times more intense. From what I hear, the arousal is all-consuming.

And Ava’s going to experience that.

My fantasy shifts seamlessly to Ava between Declan and Knox. Me on the sidelines. But then she reaches for me, draws me in, kisses me. Woah .

I shake my head to clear it.

“Are you alright, docinho ,” Lucas asks.

“Yep, fine.” The words squeak over my vocal cords. “Perfectly fine.” I wiggle out of Declan’s arms, bumping his hip with mine. “Bet I could beat you both blindfolded.”

“He has handcuffs.” Lucas cocks his head toward Declan. “Not a blindfold.”

“Handcuffed and blindfolded,” I reply, forcing fake confidence. Considering my current score, and how shaky I’m feeling after my surprising daydream, winning this round is impossible. But being delusionally positive about mini golf is better than thinking about unrealistic scenarios.

Declan gives me a look that’s all smirk and mischief before leaning close to my ear. “Sweetheart, keep talking like that, and I’m gonna forget we’re still playing mini golf.”

And if he keeps talking like that , I’m gonna start imagining I can have things that can never be mine.