Page 44 of Knot Going Down (OlympicVerse #3)

AVA

I wake in a cold sweat, breath shallow, skin damp, a deep ache curling low in my belly. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt—sharp and hollow all at once—and before I can think better of it, I’m reaching for Emily. My hands find her in the dark, and I pull her close, needing her.

She exhales softly, still asleep, but she doesn’t resist. I press my body around hers, curling like I’m trying to shield her, or maybe trying to protect something fragile inside myself. Her warmth seeps into me slowly, soothing the pain enough to catch my breath.

But not enough. Not nearly enough.

The bed feels too big. Too cold. The sheets, which felt soft and luxurious yesterday, are now suffocating, cloying against my skin, like I’m being smothered by fabric. Even my clothes feel wrong. Too much. Too tight. Too everything.

I wriggle out of my top, careful not to wake Em. The cotton peels away, and the air hits my skin like a balm. My breasts ache with a sting that makes me bite down on a gasp. Deep in that strange, primal place inside me I know what I need is her . Skin to skin. Her touch, her warmth, her breath.

I hesitate, not wanting to wake her, but I can’t resist. I slide my hand beneath the hem of her shirt, fingers trembling as I press my palm to the flat, smooth plane of her stomach. Her skin is warm. Real. Comforting. She stirs, hips pressing back into me, and a soft sound escapes her lips.

My breath catches. Is she awake?

Another cramp coils low, sharp and sudden, stealing the air from my lungs.

I cling to her like she’s the only thing keeping me anchored.

My body feels like it’s burning from the inside out.

I kick the covers away, desperate for air, and shift enough to slip off my shorts.

They scrape against my legs like sandpaper.

Every sensation heightened—and yet, not heightened enough.

A whimper escapes before I can swallow it.

Then she’s there. Awake. Looking down at me like a vision. Her short hair is tousled, haloed in the bathroom’s dim spill of light. Her eyes are soft, concerned. And when she touches me—just the brush of her fingers across my cheek—I feel everything in me crack open.

“My sweet omega,” she whispers. “I’ve got you.”

Tears I didn’t realize were falling are wiped away with a touch so gentle it makes my chest ache. She kisses me, soft and slow. For one precious moment, the fire inside me dies down to embers. My whole body sighs into her.

But it doesn’t last.

The next wave is stronger, lower, more urgent. My hips stutter against hers. I feel like I’m coming apart. Desperate and empty and aching. I bury my face in her neck, whining, and rubbing against her. I can’t think. Can’t breathe.

I just need. Her.

This heat is worse than what I felt with Knox. Deeper. Hungrier. I’m not completely lost to it yet, but the edges of my vision blur, everything narrowing to one point of focus. Emily.

I grip her hips and roll her gently beneath me, kissing her with a desperation I can’t temper. She responds with a moan that curls through my core like lightning. Her hands tangle in my hair as I pull her shirt over her head, and then?—

Oh.

Her breasts are perfect. Small and soft, tipped with dusky pink. I lean in, mouth closing around one, sucking gently, and she gasps beneath me. Her fingers fist in the sheets.

I fumble with the drawstring on her shorts, frustration building when the knot won’t budge.

She laughs, breathy and warm, and cups my cheek.“It’s okay, sweetheart. We’ve got time.”

But I shake my head, heart pounding. No, pretty girl. We don’t. Not with this ache inside me, this fire only she can soothe. I whimper again, a raw sound in the quiet room.

Her breath hitches, fingers curling against my skin like she’s trying to memorize the moment. She’s nervous, excited, aching to be close. All of it written in the flush on her cheeks, the shine in her eyes. She’s all lit up, trembling and eager and so damn beautiful I can hardly breathe.

She slips her hand between us and undoes the tie on her shorts with practiced ease, then lifts her hips to help me slide them down. Only her soft blue panties remain, clinging to curves I crave. I peel them away slowly, reverently, even as I push off my own.

Now, nothing separates us.

We see each other fully in the dim glow. Flushed skin, trembling limbs, eyes brimming with emotion. Hovering over her, I press a hand between her breasts until I feel the soft, steady rhythm of her heart.

“You’re beautiful,” I whisper.

Her eyes shine. “So are you.”

We kiss again, deeper, slower. And then we’re moving together, limbs tangling, thighs sliding between each other’s. The friction makes her moan, and I echo the sound.

I trail kisses down her body until I’m between her legs, the scent of her arousal rich and heady. Smoked vanilla and amaretto. I want to lick up every drop.

When I slide a finger into her, she gasps, her body welcoming me. My hips grind against the mattress, aching with emptiness. I taste her, slow and indulgent, memorizing her with my tongue.

When she comes, shaking under my mouth, it’s like she’s the only thing that’s ever tasted right. Like I’ve been starving for her and didn’t know it until now. But even then—even with her falling apart for me—the ache inside me snarls, greedy and wild. I need more. I need everything.

“More,” I whisper against her skin, voice breaking.

She pulls me back up, cradling me gently, her fingers finding my slick center. “Is this okay? Am I doing it right?”

Her touch wrecks me. I’ve needed this— her —for so long it hurts. And now that she’s finally touching me, really touching me, it’s like my body can’t decide whether to melt or burn.

“A little hi— oh! —there,” I gasp.

Her touch is gentle. Almost hesitant. But it’s everything I’ve ever wanted. Warm, grounding, real. Like she’s not just touching my body, but reaching into every cracked, aching place inside me and stitching it back together.

“Deeper,” I murmur.

She’s breathing heavily as her finger slips all the way inside. We both moan together, and then she’s working her way down my body, licking a path to the apex of my thighs. Slow and tentative she traces my entrance with her tongue.

“Y-yes.” I exhale the word.

The way she tastes me is so tender, tears fall down my cheeks. No one’s ever touched me the way she does.

“So good,” I praise. “Now, flatten your tongue a little like— ah! Yes. Like that!” Such a fast learner. My girl. My beta. I fist the sheets, trying to keep from grinding against her face. But it feels so good.

This is what I needed.

Spine-tingling pleasure consumes me, and I come calling her name. But the euphoria doesn’t last.

“More,” I yell. “Need…” What do I need? Something? My body feels all wrong.

There’s a shift in the air. A flood of scent crashes over me. Lush evergreen. Warm leather. Sunshine and sweet fruit. It spikes something low in my belly, makes my skin prickle and my breath catch.

But I can’t think, can’t place it. Can’t breathe around the wanting.

“Oh, Ava.” She kisses a path to my lips, tasting of blackberries and cheesecake and me . Just as she should. I want her to always be covered in my scent.

“More,” I beg, writhing beneath her.

“You need a knot,” she whispers.

“Yes,” I moan, the delicious oblivion beckoning me closer. “Knot me.”

“I can’t, sweetheart.” She kisses me, soft and fragile. “But the guys are here. Do you want them?”

And that’s when it clicks .

The scent. Their scent. I knew it on some instinctual level, but now I know .

It hits me like a storm. Forest after rain. Worn leather and skin warmed by the sun. A golden haze of peach bellini wrapping around it all like a bow. It floods the room, burrows under my skin, settles deep in my bones.

I freeze.

A snarl rips from my throat, low and warning, even as I curl around Emily. The alphas are here. In my space. In our space.

“Mine,” I growl, baring my teeth.

One of them, the one who smells like a forest in autumn, steps forward slowly, holding my gaze. He puts both hands on the bed, leaning toward me. “We know she’s yours, omega. We’re yours, too.”

Something deep inside me knows that. Knows it like breath, like blood.

Lucidity unravels.

I lurch forward, crawling to the edge of the bed. My hands fly without aim—grabbing shirts, skin, wrists, anything solid and warm and theirs . Don’t know who I want first. I want all of them. I need all of them. Every scent. Every hand. Every mouth.

“Mine.”

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Only when Emily is flush against my back and the others close in around me do I start to feel okay again. The ache stops clawing at me. The fear loosens its grip. Desperation eases. And in the stillness that follows, I find something I didn’t expect.

Peace .

“Yes,” I sigh. “Yes.” I surrender.

From the center of it all, surrounded by them, I whisper the words that feel more vital than breath itself. “I trust you.”

And I let the wave take me under.