Page 96 of Knotted By my Pack

When he leaves, I stare down at the papers. This was the last block. Now I can call Beckett, get the contractor moving on the hotel. Still, the knot in my chest doesn’t ease. Something else claws at me.

Cora steps out of the bakery. She’s smoothing something over the awning and the sunlight catches the droplets of sweat on her skin, making her glow against the faded paint of the building.

I watch, frozen. She turns, disappears inside again.

Before I realize it, my feet move without permission, drawn like iron to the magnet of her scent. It’s sharp, clean—tinged with something unmistakably Noah.

I’m barely aware of the cool morning air as it slips around me.

She’s just inside the door when I reach her. She looks up, surprise flickering across her face. “Julian,” she breathes. “I... I wanted to apologize. About yesterday—accusing you…”

Her voice is soft, but I don’t hear the words. I only hear the thrum of something raw and unspoken between us.

Before I can stop myself, I lean in, capturing her lips with mine. The kiss is sudden and desperate, like I’m making up for lost time.

“Wait…”

“What?” I choke out, my lips on her cheek and nose.

“Did you come in here last night?”

I pause and watch her green eyes. I know she’ll call me out on my lie… and to be honest, I can barely think beyond the way my cock aches in my boxers. “Why?”

“The machines. They were fixed when I came in. I know it wasn’t Noah, and it’s not Elias, because I asked him. So… was it you?”

“It was nothing.”

“Julian…”

Her voice is like a soft invocation, a whispered spell that coils through the air and sinks into my skin. Her eyes, wide and shimmering with something deeper than fear or longing, lock with mine.

There’s a tremor there, fragile but fierce, as if she’s summoning courage from some unseen well. The faintest quiver in her lip tells me everything I need to know—this moment is fragile, electric, a threshold.

“I know it’s all complicated right now, Cora. But I’m telling you now, kiss me or push me away. I need an answer. I need to know what to do!”

“Kiss me, please,” she breathes, the words heavy with a promise and a plea.

I don’t hesitate. I lean in, pulling her close before the space between us can swallow the possibility. Her lips part beneath mine, warm and soft, a trembling invitation that quickly melts into hunger.

The kiss deepens—it claws its way beneath my skin, settling like wildfire in my veins.

My hands cup her face, thumbs tracing the delicate planes of her cheekbones, memorizing every line as if it’s the last map to salvation.

The bakery around us fades into shadows, the morning light filtering through the dusty windows casting long, crooked shapes that dance with the shadows between us.

The smell of fresh bread and cinnamon melts into the background, replaced by the electric pull between our bodies—a charged current I can’t resist.

We don’t stop. Our hands find each other, grip with urgent need. We push toward the backroom. The air thickens, charged with possessiveness.

I catch her eyes—wide, shimmering, and pulling me deeper into something dark and urgent. She bites her lip, hesitation battling with desire, then whispers, “I need you.”

I don’t waste a second. My mouth crashes down on hers, hard and demanding, claiming her with a hunger that’s been smoldering beneath the surface for far too long.

Her lips part, warm and slick against mine, and I taste the sharp tang of cinnamon and something darker. The kiss deepens, teeth grazing, tongues tangling in a brutal dance of desperate need.

My hands slam down on her waist, gripping her like I’m afraid she might disappear. I drag her close until there’s no space left between us.

There’s something ancient stirring between us, like dark magic simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to ignite.