Page 53 of Knot Your Sugar Rush (Starling Grove #2)
Chapter fifty-three
Cam
T he room is dim, shadows stretching across the old wood floor, the only light a thin wash from the shuttered window. I’m warm—too warm—and not just from the heat simmering under my skin. Dane’s arms are still around me, steady as stone, but the stillness between us is charged.
When I finally lift my head, his eyes are already on me, that deep, controlled focus that makes my chest tighten.
“Lie back,” he says, voice low but not rough. It’s a command wrapped in care, and it rolls over me like warm rain.
I do as he says, my pulse fluttering as I sink into the soft nest Theo made earlier. The faint scent of herbs clings to the blankets, but it’s already being overtaken by the sharper, richer scent of Dane—pine and storm air and something darker that makes my mouth go dry.
He doesn’t touch me right away. Instead, he kneels beside the bed, his hand braced near my hip, his gaze sweeping over me like he’s memorizing every detail.
“You’re beautiful like this,” he murmurs, and my stomach flips. He slowly removes his shirt, and my heat broils at the sight of his bare chest.
Then his hand is on my ankle, slow and deliberate, fingertips gliding up my calf. The drag of his touch makes my breath stutter, and heat pools low in my belly.
He’s not in a hurry. Every inch he covers feels like it’s claimed, teased, tested. When he reaches my knee, his thumb circles lazily before he moves higher. The air between us thickens, scented with my own rising need, something I’ve been trying not to acknowledge until now.
Slowly he strips the clothing from me, and from himself, his large cock already dripping with precum. The heat ripples through my body, and I give a soft moan.
Practically panting, Dane leans over me, his weight braced so I can feel his heat without being pinned, feel his cock against my thigh, hard and ready.
His lips find my throat first, slow and exploratory, pressing soft kisses before his teeth graze the skin just under my jaw.
The nip sends a shiver racing down my spine.
“You’re already trembling,” he says, a faint note of satisfaction in his voice.
“I’m—” I stop, swallow. “It’s just—”
“It’s me,” he finishes for me, his mouth curving against my skin.
He works lower, tracing the column of my throat, then over my collarbone, the stubble of his jaw scraping deliciously. He nips again, just enough to make me gasp, before soothing the spot with his tongue. The sensation makes my back arch without permission.
He catches the movement, a low sound rumbling in his chest. “Let it take you. I’ll keep you right here.”
It’s those words—steady, certain—that let me unclench that last bit of resistance. I sink into the bed, and into him.
Dane’s mouth moves lower, tasting, teasing, finding my nipples and expertly using pinches and nips, not to mention tongue, on them.
Drawing the heat out until I’m squirming, wet, and rubbing against him.
The air feels heavy with us now, every inhale pulling more of his scent into me until it’s the only thing I can smell, the only thing I want.
I think he’s about to finally knot me when, instead, he slips lower and slides his hand under me, lifting my hips just enough to position himself.
My thoughts are a haze of wanting and trust. He kisses the inside of my thigh, slow and deliberate, and when his teeth catch lightly on sensitive skin, my breath comes out in a shaky moan.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, voice gone rougher. “Feel it. I’ve got you.”
And I do—I feel every moment, every drag of his mouth, every nip and soothing stroke.
My heat swells until it’s not something to fight but something to ride, and Dane is the anchor keeping me from getting lost in it completely.
His fingers slide in my slick, my hands twisting in the blankets under me, moaning and arching my back.
He teases me, flicks my heat into a frenzy I’ve never felt before.
When I glance down, his eyes meet mine, intense and locked. The alpha in him is fully present now, and I’m not afraid of it. Not anymore.
His mouth never leaves my skin for long as he works his way back up over.
Every nip, every slow sweep of his tongue feels like it’s branding me, marking me as his in ways that go deeper than teeth ever could.
My hands find his shoulders, the muscles shifting under my palms as he moves over me, steady, deliberate.
The heat pulses in waves now, thick and intoxicating. I can’t tell where it ends and Dane begins—his scent is in my hair, my skin, filling my lungs with each breath. It’s grounding and dizzying all at once.
He draws back just enough to look at me. “You’re sure?” His voice is rough, threaded with restraint that’s clearly costing him.
“Yes.” My own voice is shaky but certain. “I know what I’m asking.”
Something flickers in his eyes—a final check, a last edge of self-control before he lets go. And then the alpha in him surges forward.
His weight settles over me, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that’s less about teasing now and more about claiming. It’s deep, consuming, and I melt into it, my fingers curling in his hair as if to pull him closer when he’s already everywhere.
Dane’s hands slide under me, lifting me into his body like I weigh nothing. The movement makes me gasp, and he uses that moment to deepen the kiss further, a low growl vibrating in his chest.
He tastes me everywhere—down my throat, over my breasts, lingering at each peak until I’m arching up into him, wordless sounds slipping past my lips. He’s patient, but not slow; there’s a purpose to every touch, every bite and lick, drawing my body tighter, hotter, until I’m shaking beneath him.
When he finally pushes his cock inside, it’s with a deep, unhurried stroke that makes the air leave my lungs in a rush. The world narrows to the heat of him, the way his body fits against mine, the steady power in every movement.
“You’re doing so well,” he murmurs, voice like molten velvet in my ear. “Let me take you the rest of the way.”
And I do. I let go completely, letting his rhythm take me under, letting the heat crest and crash and build again. His scent wraps around me like a second skin, pulling me deeper into the bond we’re forging in this moment.
The pressure at the base of him changes—he’s close, his knot swelling. The thought should scare me, but it doesn’t. Not with Dane. Not now.
I meet his eyes, breathless. “I want it.”
The growl he gives in answer is pure satisfaction. He thrusts once, twice, and then his knot locks us together with a deep, pulsing heat that draws another cry from me.
We stay tangled like that, my body still trembling, his hand stroking over my hair, down my spine, soothing me even as his breathing is still ragged.
“You’re safe,” he says quietly, and I believe it. I believe him.
For the first time in a long time, I’m not just surviving my heat—I’m anchored in it, held steady by someone who won’t let me drown.