Page 46 of Knot All is Crystal
When he kisses me, it’s as if a part of me that lay dormant wakes up.
I wonder if it would’ve been like this with Maverick if we weren’t both high, and I wasn’t lying to him. If we were just two people admitting what we are to one another.
The kiss is languid, our tongues tangling together lazily as our bodies drift closer to one another until I am pressed tightly against him. When we finally come up for air, he presses his forehead against mine and lets his eyes fall shut.
His face is relaxed, and there is no trace of the stressed and pained man I saw in the clinic last week. I wish he could always be this way.
“I’m suddenly understanding why Omegas move in with their Alphas immediately,” I whisper.
He chuckles, capturing my lips in a kiss again. “I think we’ll have to wait until I’m no longer your patient. But I must admit, I’m tempted to drop out of the program.”
That statement sobers me. I can’t let him do that, especially because this will never be able to go anywhere real as long as I’m stuck with Kieran. “No, you can’t do that. You deserve the treatment. I hope it works for you, and then, when it’s done, we can be together.”
The words aren’t true, but the hope behind them is.
SEVENTEEN
I can’t stop thinkingabout her.
“No Omegas,” I remind Burger. “Omegas have Alphas, and Alphas don’t like to share with Betas.”
The dog tilts his head as he listens to me spiral.
Again.
Like I have every hour since I saw Crystal at the grocery store.
She told me she met an Alpha, and I’m happy for her.
I am.
But my gut hurts, and not because I panic ate some pancakes.
“No Omegas,” I say again. This time, Burger gives me a squeaky bark in return. “You’re right, Burger. She is different.”
Am I projecting my desires onto my dog to help justify a decision I will probably regret?
Yes.
Am I going to stop?
Highly unlikely.
“But I don’t know her, Burger. Not really. I’ve tattooed her for a long time, but that was the first conversation we’d ever had outside the studio.”
“Woof, grrr.”
“You’re right. I need to get to know her outside of the studio. That’s a good idea, buddy.”
His bark gets higher-pitched, and he yowls at the end.
“I don’t have her number, but it’s in her client file. I’ll get it.”
Another bark.
“I know it’s against the rules, but I don’t think she’ll mind. Maybe she’ll think it’s romantic, like in a romcom or cheesy romance novel.” He yips at me and I snap, pointing at the little guy. “Yeah, it’s romantic.”
He runs up to me and bumps me with his nose. A glance at the clock reveals I’m about fifteen minutes late feeding him dinner. I’m not sure how my dog learned to tell time, but he’s a punctual bastard.
