Page 65 of Knot Your Rebel

My hands immediately lift to my head as embarrassment heats my face.

“Tate,” I groan.

“What? You looking like a fierce forest warrior is really doing things for me right now.” He grabs his junk, and I can’t help but laugh. And there’s my cocky hockey player again.

He hands me the shirt. “Get going. You look at me like that any longer, and I’ll be joining you in the shower. So I suggest you go.”

I don’t take another second to think about it. I simply grab the offered shirt and head to the bathroom. His large palm smacks against my ass as I walk past, the sound reverberating through the large space, and I can’t help but shake it, not turning around. A moan follows me into the bathroom, and I giggle at the effect I have on this huge alpha.

twenty seven - tate

. . .

After she showered last night, we made out for a while in bed, and I knotted her before she dozed off peacefully in my arms. It’s the first time she’s spent the night at my house. The first night of hopefully many because I’m already a bit obsessed with the idea. Things are different with her than with any other woman, omega or not, I’ve dated.

The early morning light filters gently through the window, and I can’t help but watch as she drags her fingers along the light dusting of hair on my chest. I still have a few hours before I need to get up and head to morning skate, so I’ll enjoy the time I have now.

She’s snuggled up under my navy comforter and against my side like it's the most natural thing in the world.

I wondered for a while if we’d ever make it here. Yes, the beginning of this mating wasn’t exactly butterflies and roses, but I’d hoped that one day she’d realize I wasn’t going anywhere and accept it.

“This is nice.”

With a slight tilt to my lips, I lift my head from the pillow and look over at her, pulling a few strands of hair away from her face with my fingers gently so it doesn’t bug her. She’s right, it is nice. I like the domesticity of it. The simplicity of just being together without fighting.

“I can think of a few things that would make it even nicer,” I say, my voice filled with grit from sleeping. My cock jumps in approval of the thoughts my brain is entertaining.

“Oh, yeah?” She peeks up at me before that dangerous little hand goes on its own adventure. “And would it have something to do with this morning woody you’re sporting?”

“And if I said yes?” I quirk an eyebrow at her in challenge. God, why does her hand on me feel so good.

I guess I blame myself for sleeping naked. If I wasn’t, her soft little hand wouldn’t be wrapped around my bare cock.

“Well, maybe we can see what happens.” She giggles, and it's the sweetest sound.

“Hey, Tate.” Her eyes find mine.

“Yeah?” God, she’s gorgeous.

“Thank you for making me a nest, even though you didn’t know if I’d stay here for my heat. Thank you for not pressuring me into it. I know things have been a whirlwind lately, and I’m trying my best to get on board. Just… give me time, okay?”

“Whatever you need, Rebel. But if you thought for one second I’d let you entertain the idea of someone else around this sexy as hell pussy when you’re in heat, then you clearly don’t know me at all.”

“And we’re back to captain possessive.” She rolls her eyes, but I can tell she wants to smile. She’s yet to admit it, but I think my possessiveness turns her on.

I lift a hand to cup her cheek. “You are mine. You always will be. Don’t you see that yet?”

She bites her lip, and I hold back the growl. “I’m starting to.”

I lean in to kiss those delectable lips when a phone goes off somewhere in the house. We didn’t bring the phones up here last night when we went to bed, so I guess I should probably go find out who’s calling at this ungodly hour.

“That’s my phone, Tate.” Rebel grabs the corner of the sheet and starts to get up.

I grab onto her arm. “Hey, wait here. I’ll go grab it. There’s no need for you to leave the warmth of my bed just yet.”

She gives me that smile that makes my soul melt, and I leave to go in search of her elusive cell phone.

It stops ringing right as I get into the kitchen. Seven missed calls. Most from Nova. My phone’s sitting on the counter across from hers, and it lights up, too, with yet another voicemail. Gunnar’s name is lined up in rows. What the fuck happened?

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