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"Lachlan—" I gasp, a bolt of pure, primal shock freezing my limbs. "What⁠—"

"The knot," he rasps, his hands clamping around my waist, holding my hips completely flush against his pelvis. His teeth press hard against the skin of my shoulder, trembling with the effort of holding the bite back. "I’m knotting you, lass. You're locked to me. Mine." He scrapes his teeth against my shoulder, rolling my nipple between his fingers as I gasp.

The knot seals inside me, a throbbing anchor that fills me so completely I can hardly breathe. It’s an overwhelming stretch, so deep and solid it feels like we’ve been forged into a single being.

And then his release hits.

Lachlan’s head falls back. I kiss where his arm holds me against him, as thick waves of his climax flood deep inside me, held captive by the swollen seal of his knot. He shudders violently against my back, his chest heaving, his fingers digging into my hips as wave after wave tears through him, emptying everything he has into my core.

We stay like that for what feels like hours.

The hot water pours over our backs, rinsing away the sweat, but neither of us moves. My hands remain braced against the slate, my forehead resting on the cool stone, listening to the harsh, sawing drag of his breath against my ear.

Slowly, the frantic heat settles into bone-deep exhaustion.

"You're stuck," I manage to mumble, my voice muffled against the wet tile.

A low, breathy chuckle rumbles through his chest, vibrating straight through the seal between our bodies. "Aye. I am."

"How long?"

"Twenty minutes, give or take," he murmurs, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the nape of my neck. "Until the swelling goes down."

"Lachlan MacTavish, you could have warned me. In the shower?"

"Could be worse, lass," he says, sounding entirely unrepentant. "Could be the cellar."

I let out a weak laugh that ends in a sigh, letting my weight sag back against his chest. He holds me effortlessly, his arms wrapped securely around my ribs, keeping the pressure off my trembling legs.

He reaches out with one long arm and shuts off the brass handles.

The sudden silence in the bathroom is deafening, broken only by the steady drip of water and the synchronized rhythm of our breathing.

Lachlan reaches over to the heated rack, grabbing a massive dark-green bath towel, and drapes it carefully around my shoulders. Then, with a surprising tenderness, he slides his arms beneath my thighs.

He lifts me off my feet.

Because the knot is still fully swollen, still locking us intimately together, he doesn't pull away. He carries me with slow steps, keeping his hips perfectly aligned with mine. He carries me out of the bathroom, into the dim quiet of the bedroom. I bite my lip to stop from laughing, but before long, I’m shaking with it.

He doesn't bother pulling back the duvet. He lowers us both onto the mattress sideways, tucking my head under his chin, pulling a heavy wool plaid over our damp, exhausted bodies. His arm clamps over my waist, locking me tight against his chest, refusing to yield an inch of space.

“What’s so funny?”

“We’re literally joined at the hip,” I tell him, watching his face over my shoulder.

He grins back at me, kissing my neck. “I’d rather be nowhere else.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re stuck like this.”

“Aye. And it won’t be the last time, love.”

The fullness between my thighs is heavy, warm, and deeply anchoring.

I lay my hand flat against Lachlan’s chest, right over his beating heart, feeling the steady, unbroken thrum of the gold and blue braid glowing softly against my skin in the dark.