Page 71 of Knotting the Cowboys

The mortification burns hot in my chest, but underneath it, something else stirs.Interest, maybe.Or curiosity aboutthis man who heard me at my most vulnerable and chose to tease rather than take advantage. Blake would have stormed in, demanded explanations, punished me for taking pleasure without permission.But Mavi?Mavi's offering to show me security drills like nothing happened, except for that knowing smirk that says he's filing this information away for later.

He moves through the house like he owns it, which I suppose he partially does through sweat equity if nothing else. His stride is purposeful but unhurried, giving me time to appreciate the way his jeans fit and immediately hate myself for noticing. I just came to thoughts of him not twenty minutes ago—I should not be checking out his ass in the hallway like some hormonal teenager.

"Regretting following me already?" he asks without turning around, because of course he knows I'm staring. The man probably has eyes in the back of his head, or at least mirrors strategically placed to catch unsuspecting Omegas in moments of weakness.

"Regretting a lot of things," I admit, because what's the point of lying to someone who heard you moaning his name into a pillow?

"Don't."

The single word carries more weight than it should.

He pauses at the top of the stairs, finally turning to look at me. The teasing is still there in the curve of his lips, but his eyes are serious.

"Nothing wrong with taking care of yourself. Nothing wrong with wanting."

The words hit like a physical blow, so different from everything I've been taught. I blink hard against the sudden burn of tears, overwhelmed by this casual acceptance of needs I've been shamed for having.

"Besides," he continues, the moment of sincerity passing as quickly as it came, "gave me something interesting to think about during the boring parts of patrol."

"Oh my God," I breathe, face flaming anew. "You can't just?—"

"Can't just what?" He's already heading down the stairs, leaving me to follow or be left behind. "Tell the truth? Acknowledge that our boss has excellent taste in fantasy material? Admit that hearing you say my name like that is going to make concentration difficult for the foreseeable future?"

Oh god! He did hear everything!

Each word is another nail in the coffin of my dignity.

I follow him down the stairs, torn between wanting to push him down them and wanting to know what else he overheard.

This is Mavi—controlled, paranoid, security-obsessed Mavi—talking about my morning self-pleasure session like we're discussing the weather.

"For what it's worth," he tosses over his shoulder as we reach the bottom of the stairs, "the walls are thicker than you think. I was checking the attic access in the hallway—routine security sweep. Just happened to have excellent timing."

Somehow that makes it worse.

Not that he was deliberately listening, but that he was just doing his job and stumbled into my most private moment. I'm going to have to face him every day knowing he heard me come. Knowing he knows exactly what I sound like when I lose control.

"Still want to learn about security?" he asks, pausing at the back door. "Or would you prefer to hide in your room and pretend this never happened?"

The challenge in his voice sparks something in me—that defiant flame Cole identified, the part that refuses to be shamed into submission anymore.

He’s testing me.

Trying to determine if I’m going to cower for having needs as an Omega or own up to my desires without cowering to his unexpected presence.

I lift my chin, meeting his green eyes with as much dignity as I can muster while my face burns like a beacon.

"Show me," I say, proud when my voice comes out steady. "If I'm going to be Boss, I need to know everything about this place. Even if my tour guide is a smug bastard who has terrible timing."

That will show him.

His grin widens, sharp and appreciative as he leans in close, his scent only teasing me further.

"There she is. The fierce Omega Cole was talking about.” He doesn’t hesitate then, giving me the softest peck on the cheek that I could ever think he can muster. “Welcome to the real world, Boss. It's a lot more interesting than whatever cage you've been living in."

He pushes open the door, October morning air rushing in to cool my heated face.

The oddest realization is how my body goes haywire.

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