Page 217 of Knot So Lucky

I use the creeper to slide out smoothly, blinking against the brighter light of the main garage. Adrian stands beside the diagnostic station, holding two cups of coffee that smell like heaven and exactly what I need right now.

"Coffee?" I sit up, wiping my hands on the rag tucked into my jumpsuit pocket. "You're officially my favorite person today."

"Just today?" He feigns hurt, crouching down beside me and placing one of the cups on the nearby counter. "I'm wounded,tesoro."

The Italian endearment makes warmth bloom in my chest. Adrian's been using his mother's language more frequently around me—small intimacies that speak to comfort and trust.

"Okay, fine. You're my favorite person most days." I reach for the coffee, already anticipating that first sip of perfectly prepared caffeine.

But Adrian catches my wrist gently, his thumb brushing over my pulse point in a gesture that's both tender and possessive. His amber-and-vanilla scent wraps around me, mixing with my smoke-and-vanilla in ways that never fail to make my Omega instincts purr with contentment.

"What are you going to do to derail the press this time?" he asks, his smile turning into a smirk. "Last week's rave appearance has them absolutely losing their minds. The photos,the videos of you dancing with Luca and Cale—very effective distraction from the actual racing."

I laugh, remembering the absolute chaos that erupted on social media after our night out.

"I should probably show up for the next press conference, huh? Give them something to actually report on instead of speculating about my personal life."

"Probably." Adrian shifts to sit fully on the garage floor beside me, apparently unconcerned about getting his expensive clothes dirty. "But are you okay? Actually okay, not just saying what you think I want to hear."

The question catches me off guard.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Why?"

"You sure?" His green eyes search my face with an intensity that makes me feel seen in ways that are both comforting and slightly uncomfortable. "No pressure building up? Not feeling overwhelmed by everything happening?"

I think about it honestly, taking inventory of my mental and emotional state.

The threats are still there—anonymous messages, sabotage attempts, the constant low-level anxiety of knowing someone wants me hurt or dead. The pressure is immense—championship implications, pack dynamics, being the first openly Omega racer in Formula One. The public scrutiny is exhausting—every move analyzed, every choice questioned, every relationship dissected by people who've never met me.

But underneath all that?

I'm okay.

Actually okay, not just performing okay for other people's comfort.

"I'm good," I say firmly, meaning it. "Completely okay. Why? Afraid I'm gonna disappear on you?"

Adrian's smile comes slowly, transforming his face from concerned to something softer. He leans in, one hand coming up to cup my jaw while his thumb traces my lower lip with deliberate pressure.

Then he kisses me.

Not aggressive or demanding like Luca's kisses tend to be. Not playfully intense like Cale's usual approach. This istender—Adrian's particular brand of affection that speaks to genuine care wrapped in controlled passion.

His lips move against mine with focused attention, like kissing me is the most important thing happening in the world right now. His tongue traces the seam of my mouth, requesting rather than demanding entry, and I open for him eagerly.

The kiss deepens, and suddenly I'm breathless.

His hand slides from my jaw to the back of my neck, fingers threading through my short hair and holding me in place while he thoroughly explores my mouth. The angle is perfect, the pressure ideal, the taste of him—coffee and something uniquely Adrian—making me want more.

When he finally pulls back, I'm gasping slightly, my lips swollen and my heart racing.

"Nah," he says quietly, his voice rough with barely controlled want. "Just feeling sentimental."

I pout, tilting my head in confusion.

"Sentimental? That's what we're calling that kiss?"

His smile turns slightly wicked.