Page 126 of Knot So Lucky

It's like he's mapping me, learning every contour as if I'm a new prototype he's engineering to perfection. The room feels charged with it, the air thick with our scents—his bergamot sharpening the vanilla sweetness of mine, vetiver grounding the gasoline fire, all wrapped in that underlying oakmoss and salt air that reminds me of ocean winds whipping across a coastal track.

Tension builds again, not frantic like with Cale or playful like with Elias, but deliberate, a slow burn that promises depth.

I let my eyes flutter shut as he kisses my collarbone, light and teasing, then lower, his lips brushing the swell of my breast.

"So responsive," he whispers, almost to himself, and I feel the heat flush my cheeks. My Omega side preens at the praise, fluttering with instincts that urge me to submit, to let him lead this race. But there's a part of me—the Rory Lane who hides as a male in the pits, who outdrives champions in simulations—that pushes back, just a little. I thread my fingers through his ash-blond hair, guiding him gently, and he allows it, his chuckle vibrating against my skin.

"Good girl," he says, the words laced with affection, and it sends a shiver through me. He nips at my nipple, gentle at first, then firmer, drawing a gasp from my lips.

The sensation zips straight to my core, reigniting the ache. Slick gathers anew, coating my thighs, and I can smell it—sweet and sinful, mingling with his calm spice. He notices, of course; his hand dips lower, fingers sliding through the wetness with a precision that's both tender and commanding.

"Look at you, already so ready again. Beautiful."

I moan his name—Adrian—soft and breathy, and it feels like a confession.

He rewards me by circling my clit with his thumb, slow and deliberate, building the pressure without haste. It's torturous in the best way, like edging a car toward redline without flooring it, feeling every rev. My hips buck instinctively, seeking more, but he holds me steady with his free hand on my thigh, murmuring promises against my skin.

"Patience, little one. Let it build. I want to feel you shatter properly."

The words make my instincts flutter wildly, a mix of submission and that thrilling tension, like competing againstsomeone who knows your every move but lets you think you're leading.

I grip the sheets, twisting them in my fists as he works me higher, his fingers curling inside me now, finding that spot that makes stars burst behind my eyelids. The vibration from earlier lingers in memory, but this is different—purely him, his touch worshipful, each stroke a reverence.

Scents overwhelm me: his black tea warmth enveloping my vanilla smoke, the salt air cutting through like a fresh breeze on a hot track day.

Tension coils tighter, electric, the room vibrating with it.

When I come, it's slow and shattering, a wave that builds and crashes over me, leaving me trembling in his arms.

Slick squirts again, soaking his hand, the sheets, and he praises me through it, whispering how perfect I am, how radiant. I collapse against him, boneless, but the heat doesn't fade entirely—it's there, simmering, waiting for the next lap.

He cleans me up again, gentle cloths and softer touches, then tucks me back under the covers.

But sleep doesn't claim me immediately.

Instead, I feel another presence in the room, a shift in the air. Luca. His spiced leather and black pepper scent rolls in like storm rain, sharp and commanding, mixing with the calm of Adrian's essence and my own lingering sweetness. It's like lightning hitting hot asphalt, wrapped in sugar and sin, just as they've described.

My body responds instantly, instincts flaring, the heat surging back with a vengeance.

Adrian notices, of course. He presses a kiss to my forehead and murmurs,

"Looks like our pack leader's here. He's been waiting too, you know." There's no jealousy in his tone, just that unshakablecalm, as if this is all part of some grand strategy he's already mapped out.

Luca approaches the bed, his 6'3" frame a commanding shadow in the low light. His molten amber eyes fix on me, flaring with Alpha instinct, and I feel the tension ratchet up, thrilling and competitive.

He doesn't speak at first, just strips off his shirt with ruthless efficiency, revealing that broad-shouldered, lean build that's lethal on and off the track. His scent intensifies, spiced leather dominating, black pepper biting, storm rain underscoring it all.

It clashes beautifully with Adrian's calm bergamot, creating a storm of aromas that makes my core clench.

"You're mine now," Luca growls, voice low and magnetic, as he climbs onto the bed. Adrian shifts aside slightly, but stays close, his hand resting on my hip in quiet support.

Luca's presence is overwhelming, self-assured, and ruthless, but there's a loneliness beneath it that I sense, a need for control that I challenge just by existing.

As if he’s acting out of duty and yet lost in a void of desire and yearning for love?

He leans down, capturing my lips in a kiss that's possessive, demanding, his tongue claiming mine with the same dominance he shows on the track.

I kiss him back, fierce and unyielding, my hands exploring his chest, feeling the heat of him.