Page 53 of Nursing the Alpha
It wasn’t the same.
Not the feel of his tender chest under my palms. Not the way his breath hitched when my tongue caught his nipple. Not the low, helpless noises he made when my mouth latched on.
But still?—
God.
It was him.
And for now, it was enough.
I drained the bottle in a few long pulls, licking the last trace of milk from my lips like a starving man. I let my head drop forward, resting my forehead against the cool wood of his door.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out with numb fingers.
Flynn:
I’ll have more tomorrow night.
There’s too much milk. I don’t know what else to do with it.
My breath hitched.
The words were practical. Matter of fact.
But I saw through them.
He could have dumped it. Poured it down the sink. Closed the curtains and shut me out for good.
Instead, he’d left this for me.
A lifeline.
I wrapped my fingers around the empty bottle as heat coiled low in my belly.
Tomorrow night.
God help us both.
18
SETH
.
October 15 – 11:42 p.m.
Flynn:
I left a bottle outside the door.
Me:
I saw you tonight.
