Page 59 of Knot Your Sugar Rush (Starling Grove #2)

Chapter fifty-nine

Theo

T he air outside is clean and cool, a blessing after the hours I’ve spent inside with Cam’s scent curling into every breath. It’s not her fault — not even close — but my instincts don’t care about reason. They just want.

I lean against the porch railing, eyes tracing the slow sway of the treetops in the moonlight.

The forest at night is alive in its own quiet way — the soft rustle of small animals in the underbrush, the whisper of wind through the leaves, the distant trickle of water from the creek.

Out here, my head clears. Out here, I can almost pretend the heat coming off her isn’t under my skin, winding tighter by the hour.

But I can’t stay outside forever. I have brothers in there, and her, and the thought of this fragile little bubble we’ve made…

it’s more than comfort. It feels like the shape of something I’ve wanted for years — the three of us in sync, protective, grounded, with someone at the center who draws us together instead of pulling us apart.

I’m still turning that thought over when the door creaks. I look back — and there she is.

Her hair’s loose, spilling around her shoulders, catching the silver light. She’s wrapped in a blanket, the edges brushing against her bare calves. The sight punches something low and deep in me.

“Couldn’t sleep?” I keep my voice low, like speaking too loudly might shatter the quiet between us.

She steps out, letting the door ease shut behind her. “It’s too warm inside.” She tries for casual, but I can hear it — the strain under the words, the little rasp in her breath. The heat’s still rolling through her, no question.

“You should be resting,” I tell her, but it comes out gentler than I expect.

Her mouth curves in a half-smile. “I am. Just… out here.” She tilts her head, looking past me at the forest, her eyes softer now. “It smells different. Easier to breathe.”

We stand in silence for a minute, listening to the night. I keep my distance — far enough that my scent won’t crowd her — but my pulse doesn’t slow. The moonlight spills across her blanket, outlining the curve of her hip, the line of her neck where it disappears into her hair.

Then she looks at me, and something in her gaze is unguarded. “Theo…”

I swallow, because I already know where this is going, and I’m not sure I’m ready to hear it.

“I don’t want to impose,” she says softly, “but I… need your help.”

My control wavers. Every instinct in me surges forward — to touch her, hold her, anchor her against the pull of her heat. “You’re sure?” I ask, because she has to be sure. If I take a single step toward her, I won’t stop halfway.

She nods, the blanket slipping a little as she does. “Yes. I wouldn’t have come out here if I wasn’t.”

That’s all it takes.

I cross the space between us in two strides, my hands finding her waist through the blanket. She’s warm — too warm — and I can feel the shiver that runs through her when I draw her closer. Her scent spikes, rich and intoxicating in the cool night air.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” I murmur, brushing my lips against her temple, just to feel her lean into it.

Her fingers curl into my shirt. “Then show me.”

The alpha in me roars awake. I press her back against the railing, keeping her wrapped in the blanket as my mouth finds her neck. I nip — just enough to make her gasp — then soothe the spot with my tongue, tasting her, breathing her in.

The forest hums around us, a dark, living backdrop to the heat spiraling between us. The creak of the railing, the sigh of the wind, the way her breath catches when I bite again — it’s all part of the same rhythm.

I want to take my time. Tease her, taste her, let her heat rise until she’s pressed tight against me, every inch of her saying more .