Page 48 of Knotting the Cowboys

"Were you jealous?" His voice carries a note of curiosity, like he's working through a puzzle. "When Wendolyn talked about the horses?"

Heat floods my face, different from arousal but just as telling.

"No." The lie tastes copper-bitter on my tongue. "Why would I be jealous? She's nice. Helpful. Everything a good small town neighbor should be."

"Hmm." The sound rumbles from his chest, and then he's moving, leaning across the center console until I can feel the heat radiating from his body. "Look at me, Willa."

I could refuse.

Should refuse.

This is my truck—well, his truck, but I'm the boss, aren't I? I should maintain professional distance, keep boundaries clear, protect myself from wanting things I can't have.

Instead, I turn my head, meeting those storm-gray eyes with a defiance I don't quite feel.

He's closer than expected, close enough that I can see the flecks of blue hidden in the gray, close enough to count his eyelashes. His scent intensifies—pine and leather and pure Alpha musk that makes my inner Omega want to bare her throat in submission.

"You were jealous," he says, not a question this time. His breath ghosts across my cheek as he leans closer still, until his lips nearly brush my ear. "You know what I think?"

I remain perfectly still, caught between prey instinct and something hungrier.

My fingers dig into my thigh where his hand was moments ago, trying to hold onto control that's rapidly slipping away.

"I think," he whispers, his voice dropping to that register that liquifies my bones, "beneath this wallflower surface you're trying so hard to maintain, there's a fierce dominant Omega begging to come out and be seen in the world."

The words arrow straight through me, finding their target with unerring accuracy.

My breath catches, body trembling with the truth of it.

How does he see what I've tried so hard to hide?

The part of me that Blake tried to suppress, that my parents found embarrassing, that society insists doesn't exist?

His lips trail along the shell of my ear, not quite touching but close enough that I feel the heat of them.

"I hope you'll let that side come out and play more."

The wanting crashes over me like a wave, drowning rational thought.

My scent spikes despite the blocking underwear, arousal and need and something wild that's been caged too long.

I bite my lip hard enough to hurt, trying to ground myself, but the small pain only sharpens the edge of desire.

Cole pulls back just enough to see my face, and his eyes darken at whatever he finds there.

His gaze drops to my mouth, to where I'm still worrying my bottom lip between my teeth, and I watch him watch me with a hunger that matches my own.

The air between us crackles with possibility.

His hand rises, moving to cup my jaw, thumb hovering just over my abused lip.

I can see the moment he decides, the shift in his expression from careful to determined.

He leans in, closing the distance with inevitable slowness that makes my eyes flutter shut in anticipation?—

His phone explodes with sound, shattering the moment like glass.

"Fuck." The curse is bitten off, sharp with frustration as he jerks back. I open my eyes to find him glaring at the screen with enough heat to melt circuits. "What?" he barks into the phone.

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