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“You do now.” I turn around in his arms. “Take me home, big guy.”

He lights the fire in the main room. I strip off every sawdusty thing I’m wearing, which takes a while, because there’s sawdust in places sawdust should never be. When I turn around, he’s staring at me like I’m the last pancake on the plate.

Then he sits on the edge of the bed with his big hands on his knees, and he doesn’t reach for me.

Uh-oh. What’s wrong?

“In the tower,” he says. “I held back.”

I climb into his lap and straddle his thighs. It’s a long way across. I manage. “The knot,” I say.

His ears go dark green at the tips. “You noticed.”

“Holt. I noticed. It’s not exactly subtle.”

He huffs out a breath. “I asked around. Sober. It happens when one of us finds the one he’s meant for. It swells, and it locks us together for a while. I wasn’t going to give you that without telling you first.” He looks at me, very serious. “If you don’t want it, I’ll keep holding it back. Every time. I mean that.”

I bite my lip. My face is already on fire. “I’ve read about knots,” I admit. “In books. A lot of books.” I cover my face with my hands. “I thought it was a kink.”

He laughs. It starts as a snort, and then it turns into a real, full belly laugh that shakes the bed and me along with it. I’ve never heard him laugh like that. I peek at him through my fingers, and he’s actually wiping his eyes.

“It’s not a kink,” he says, when he can talk. “It’s biology.”

“Can’t it be both?” I kiss the corner of his mouth, right beside his tusk. “I want it, Holt. I want all of you.”

“How long does it last?” I ask.

“About twenty minutes,” he says. “Maybe longer the first time.”

“Can I get out of it if I need to?”

“Once it’s in, we have to wait it out,” he says. “I’ll keep you comfortable the whole time. But I can still hold it back.”

“So twenty minutes of mandatory cuddling? Tragic.” I stroke his cheek.

He kisses me then, and a low rumble starts up in his chest, and I feel it everywhere we touch. He lays me back on the bed and kisses his way down, over my barbells, over my soft tummy, until his tusks brush the insides of my thighs.

And then he stops. Again.

“One more thing,” he says.

“Holt Ashford, I swear, if you stop now, I’ll scream.”

“My tongue.” He blushes harder. “It’s rough. Like a cat’s. I’ve been careful with you.” His voice drops to a growl. “I don’t want to be careful tonight.”

Oh my God. I grab the sheets. “Then don’t be.”

The first long drag of his tongue over my clit makes me yell, loud enough that I’m glad his nearest neighbor is a mile away. It’s rough and hot and almost too much.

He pins my hips with his huge hands and does it again, slow, and then again, and I stop being able to form words. I’m pretty sure I call him a very bad name. I’m pretty sure he likes it.

I come so hard my toes cramp.

He kisses my thigh, very pleased with himself, and climbs back up my body. He’s hard and heavy against my pussy, and I reach down to help him find his way.

He eases in slowly, one ridge at a time, and I’m so wet that he slides right in. We both groan at the same time, which makes me giggle, which makes him groan again.

“Mine,” he growls against my neck.