Page 55 of Black Moon

“You brought pie.” I swooned, reaching out for the plate eagerly.

Linden’s returning smile was pure indulgence. “With ice cream. I thought you might enjoy something to cool off.”

But the pie on the plate was warm, the ice cream cool but melting fast—the kind of mess you had to eat with a spoon instead of a fork—and it was complete and total bliss at the first bite.

Only when the melt-in-your-mouth buttery pastry was falling apart, surrounded by an explosion of sweetness on my tongue, did I really look at Linden.

He still smelled like us, like sex, but he was completely clothed. That was entirely unacceptable.

All it took from me was one short, distressed moan, and Linden tugged his shirt over his head. He left his pants crumpled in the middle of the floor, and came to sit on the edge of the bed, naked except for a pair of navy cotton boxers—nothing more than a symbol he was giving me a second to eat.

Satisfied, I wiggled back into the pillows and smirked, taking another bite of pie. While I indulged in all that sweetness, Linden traced his fingertips over my calves, up my thighs. He touched me everywhere he could reach, in slow strokes that had me melting like the mess of ice cream on my plate.

When my inner omega had had his fill, I took a second to look Linden over. “You didn’t sleep.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, but he kept that same charming smile.

“Alpha doesn’t need sleep.”

His touch stayed gentle, light enough to allow me to sit up and nudge closer to him. I scooped up a creamy bit of apple pie and dragged it through the puddle of melted ice cream, moving my plate to catch any drips so they didn’t mess up his already messy sheets.

He took a bite and smiled, the muscles of his throat moving when he swallowed. I watched, admiring the broadness of his shoulders, the way his dense muscles covered his collarbones, strong and graceful at the same time.

He had dusty blond hair on his chest. It trailed down his stomach, glistening above the waistband of his boxers.

“Yum.” Amusement sparkled in his blue-gray eyes.

“You’re one to talk.”

I set the plate aside and pushed him back onto the mattress, dragging my nose through his chest hair, letting it tickle my lips and cheeks. I’d taste every inch of him.

Then, I’d ask him to fuck me again. And again. Until I’d had enough of him.

Though it didn’t seem like such a thing were even possible. I tugged his boxers off, darting my tongue to flick the tip of his thick, gorgeous cock. He made a little choked sound, scooting back on the bed, looking down at me with pure desire.

No, I wasn’t ever going to find the end to my need for this man, and as terrifying a thought as that should’ve been, it only made my skin tingle and my heart pound harder.

Right now, I had him, and I’d keep him every second I could.

* * *

I lost track of how many times I had him in the hours—days?—that followed. I’d wake up, Linden would have something for me to eat—usually nothing so good as pie—and when I was sick of filling my belly, he’d fill me in other ways.

There was a spark of fear in it, that if I didn’t have every bit of him every way I could imagine right then, this would be my only chance. We hadn’t talked about any kind of relationship outside of my heat, and I was afraid to broach the subject.

If he wanted a mate, he’d take one from his own pack. And fuck, I didn’t want a mate. Right?

Yeah, I didn’t. I didn’t want an alpha telling me what to do, to be a bit of arm candy for someone generally presumed to be more important, more powerful, more intelligent—justmorethan I was.

Which, of course, was bullshit. Omegas were just as capable as anyone else, but because we were often slighter, because some packs were old-fashioned, alphas were given the run of things more often than not.

And if it wasn’t like that in Grovetown? If Claudia Wilson had as much say in how things ran as Linden or anyone else? Well, that was great for them, but this wasn’t my pack.

I certainly wasn’t going to beg for more than Linden had given me. When my heat faded, and I collapsed in a pile on his bed, finally cooling off from all that sweltering need, all that mattered was that it’d passed wonderfully. Thanks to him.

I didn’t need more than that.

He stayed with me until I gathered my senses. It must’ve been morning—the light was coming through the window in a warm, golden slant that glittered in his fair eyelashes as he looked down at me. His fingers traced my bare arm.

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