Page 48 of Brutal Alpha Beast
“Some things are just hard to explain, don’t you think?”
We sit there in silence for a brief moment, a tense air settling over us. Then she angles her body away from me again.
“Let’s read a little more,” she says. “At least for ten minutes, and for God’s sake, please get something that’s not on the history of horticulture.”
“Okay,” I murmur. “Sure.”
Danielle sticks to her ten-minute suggestion, and when the clock strikes, she stands and gathers our books. First, she puts her werewolf folklore book back, but when she tries toreturn my horticulture one, she has trouble reaching the shelf I took it from.
“Do you need some help?” I ask her.
“I think I got it,” she responds.
I follow her movements as she tries desperately to slip the edge of the book into its place. She definitely doesn't get it.
She rises on her toes, her fingers fumbling.
I step behind her, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her back. She exhales, trying again to shove the book into place.
Then softly, I brush my fingers over hers, taking the book and sliding it carefully back into its place as I reach over her.
Our bodies are touching.
Neither of us pulls away.
She’s still as stone, expectant. I go to speak, to say something, make a joke maybe, but then I look down at her body, and I tense.
We’re both still. I feel her breath. Take in the scent that wafts from her hair and the back of her neck.
“Thanks,” she says quietly.
I tell myself to move, and to calm myself down, I look away.
“No problem.”
Neither of our arms has dropped; mine is still against the bookshelf above her, her’s is still hovering mid-air.
I want to hold her hand, then trail the back of my palm down her body. I’m desperate to kiss her neck. My wolf is in agony, but somehow, I remember that I’m someone she’ssupposed to hate. Someone she’s resisting despite how we kissed.
I take my arm down, and she follows in suit, and I’m about to move off, when, suddenly, I hear her quickening breath.
She’s expectant, waiting for me to do something, and she’s not moving. That sound is a feeling I recognize.
She wants this as much as I do.
“Danielle,” I murmur.
She turns slowly, and her eyes catch mine. “Yes?”
Her chest is rising rapidly.
There’s no denying how she feels. Not with that look, not with the way her mouth is pursed, and slightly open.
I need to taste her again.
I bend down and meet her lips with mine, trailing my tongue slowly between her soft edges. She groans, wrapping her hands around my neck as I push her against the bookshelf.
A couple of books tumble.
