Page 50 of Tempted By the Alpha Outlaw

“You, uh…you’ve got a good eye,” I say.

Colt’s lips quirk into a faint smirk, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s not the telescope that’s impressive,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “It’s the way you light up when you see something new. Like the whole damn universe is in front of you.”

The air between us shifts, thickens, and I realize I haven’t breathed in too long. His hand hasn’t moved from my back, his thumb brushing against the fabric of my dress in the faintest motion. It’s enough to send heat pooling in my belly, and I swear the world tilts slightly on its axis.

“Colt,” I murmur, his name barely a whisper on my lips.

“Yeah?” His voice is rough, hoarse, barely holding something back.

I don’t know what I was planning to say—or if I was planning to say anything at all. My head is spinning, my pulse thundering in my ears as the stars overhead blur into a soft haze. All I can think about is him, the way his body feels so solid, so steady, against mine. The way his gaze has locked onto mine like there’s no one else in the world.

“Thank you,” I finally manage, my voice trembling. “For…showing me this.”

His smirk softens into a smile. “Anytime,” he says, his hand lingering for just a moment longer before he pulls away, stepping back and breaking the spell.

The loss of his warmth is immediate, but the tension between us lingers. I straighten, brushing my curls back from my face and forcing a shaky breath as I glance back at the telescope.

“Show me another one?” I ask, hoping my voice doesn’t betray the way my whole body feels like it’s on fire.

Colt’s smirk returns. “You’ve got it,” he says, stepping back to adjust the telescope again. “Plenty more stars where that came from.”

And as the night stretches on, I realize I don’t care how many stars are in the sky. I only care about the man standing beside me, looking at me like I hung the moon.

18

COLT

We keep walking, the winding paths threading us through the observatory grounds, each telescope casting long shadows. Magnolia stays close—closer than she was before. She loops her arm through mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world, her touch a whisper against my skin, yet it sears through me like wildfire.

Every time her fingers shift against my arm, it sends a jolt of awareness through me. Her skin is warm against mine, and the slight pressure of her touch feels like a promise—soft, tentative, but there. It’s impossible to ignore, impossible not to want more.

She glances up at me every so often, her eyes bright with curiosity, her voice soft and lilting as she chats about the stars and the history of the observatory. But it’s not her words that have my attention. It’s the way her fingers curl just slightly as she adjusts her grip on my arm, the way she leans into me when the gravel shifts under her boots, her laugh low and breathy when she stumbles and I steady her.

It’s the way her scent lingers in the cool night air, sweet and warm, like honey and sunlight and somethingdistinctlyMagnolia. It wraps around me, pulling me in, drawing me closer with every step. My wolf stirs, pacing, its growl low and possessive as it thrums through my chest. It’s impossible to keep it quiet, not with her so close, her warmth sinking into my skin, her presence unraveling me thread by thread.

She doesn’t notice, of course. Or maybe she does. Maybe she knows exactly what she’s doing—the way her arm tightens just slightly around mine, the way her body brushes against mine, leaving sparks in its wake, just enough to drive me out of my fucking mind.

“Look at this one!” she says suddenly, her voice bright with excitement as she tugs me toward a telescope standing off to the side of the main path. Its metal body is rusted and weathered, its base half-covered in ivy, but it still stands tall, a sentinel against the night sky.

Magnolia lets go of my arm and steps closer, her fingers trailing along the telescope’s cool metal. The way she touches it—with reverence, like it’s something sacred—makes my chest tighten. She leans over the telescope, peering through the lens, and I catch the way her curls tumble over her shoulder, the way her shirt rides up just slightly as she stretches.

I clench my fists at my sides, my jaw tightening as heat pools low in my stomach. Every inch of her is a fucking distraction. It’s like she was designed to pull me apart—bit by bit, touch by touch. She’s not doing it on purpose, I tell myself. She doesn’t know what she’s doing to me.

But then she glances back at me, her lips parted, her gaze locking on mine. And in that moment, I know she knows.

“It’s incredible,” she breathes, her voice soft and awed. “The stars look so close, like you could reach out and touch them.”

“Yeah,” I rasp, my voice rougher than I mean it to be. But I’m not looking at the stars. I’m looking at her—the way the moonlight kisses her skin, the way her silhouette curves against the night, the way her lips catch the light, soft and inviting, like they’re begging me to lean in and?—

I take a step back, forcing myself to shove my hands into my pockets, to glance away before I do something stupid. “We should keep moving,” I say, my voice strained. “See what else is out here.”

She tilts her head, her smile soft, teasing. “You’re right,” she says lightly. “Lead the way.”

She loops her arm through mine again, her touch grounding and electrifying all at once. Every step, every brush of her fingers, every laugh that spills from her lips—it all chips away at the fragile control I’m clinging to.

Because it’s not just her touch or her scent or the way she looks at me like I’m someone worth paying attention to. It’s the way she makes everything else fade away. The world could burn around us, and I wouldn’t care as long as she stayed close.

And that’s dangerous. Because the closer she gets, the harder it is to ignore the truth: I want her. Not just in passing, not just in the fleeting way I’ve wanted other things. I want her in a way that feels like it could undo me, like it could change everything.

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