Page 43 of Knot on the Market

Without the barrier of cotton, Dean's natural alpha scent fills the space between us like a physical presence. Toasted marshmallow and amber, but now with undertones I couldn't detect before, something warm and clean and indefinably male that bypasses rational thought.

My body responds before my mind can stop it.

Fire spreads through my veins, starting low and radiating outward with embarrassing speed. My scent immediately begins to shift, green apple and white musk taking on telltale sweetness. And beneath that, something I haven't felt in years... the subtle, unmistakable beginning of slick.

My thighs clench involuntarily.

Oh no.

"You okay?" Dean asks, pausing with the lamp box in his hands. "You look flushed."

I am flushed. I'm also aroused and slicking and entirely too aware of every detail of his half-naked presence.

"Just the heat," I manage, hoping my voice sounds more normal than it feels. "I should get inside, maybe start some iced tea."

"Good idea." Dean's smile is warm and uncomplicated, completely unaware of the minor biological crisis happening three feet away. "This shouldn't take long."

I retreat into the house with as much dignity as I can muster, immediately leaning against the front door for support. My heart is hammering, and I can feel the warm dampness between my thighs.

I'm slicking for Dean Maddox.

Not full-blown arousal, but definitely present. Definitely the kind of biological response that would have sent my former pack into possessive overdrive.

But Dean doesn't know. Won't know if I handle this correctly.

I busy myself making iced tea, focusing on the routine while trying to calm my racing pulse. I can hear Dean moving between the truck and the front porch, and every sound sends another spike of heat through my system.

This is ridiculous. I'm a grown woman, not a teenager experiencing her first crush.

But it's been less than a month since I've been off suppressants, and even longer since I've been around an alpha who affects me like this. Dustin and his pack were calculated attraction. Political, strategic, based on mutual benefit rather than raw chemistry.

This thing with Dean feels entirely different. Honest. Immediate. Dangerous in ways I'm not prepared to handle.

The front door opens and closes, followed by the sound of Dean's boots on the hardwood floor.

"Where do you want this side table?" he calls.

"Living room is fine," I call back, not trusting myself to turn around yet. "Anywhere is good."

I hear him moving around, positioning furniture, then his voice comes from directly behind me.

"Tea smells good."

I turn around and immediately regret it. Dean is standing in my kitchen doorway, still shirtless, slight sheen of sweat making his skin catch the afternoon light. He's closer than I expected, close enough that his scent wraps around me.

"Almost ready," I say, proud of how steady my voice sounds.

"Take your time." Dean moves to the sink and starts washing his hands, completely unconscious of the view he's providing. "I've got one more load to bring in, then I'll get out of your hair."

"You don't have to rush," I say before I can stop myself. "I mean, if you want some tea when you're done..."

"I'd like that." Dean's smile is warm and genuine as he dries his hands. "Been working up a thirst out there."

"Want me to bring that mattress up to the guest room?" he asks, gesturing toward the wrapped package. "Get it out of your way?"

I feel a spike of panic at the thought of him discovering my nest upstairs. "No! I mean—I can handle it myself. It's fine down here for now."

Dean raises an eyebrow at my sharp response. "It's pretty heavy, even compressed like that. How about I just carry it up to the landing? Then you can move it wherever you want when you're ready."

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