Page 92 of Knot Their Safe Haven
I huffed, caught somewhere between embarrassment and outrage. "I am not?—"
She raised an eyebrow, a single arch conveying all the skepticism in the world. "You absolutely are," Alexis added, voice teasing but edged with genuine curiosity. "The great Alessandro Devereaux, undone by a little fruit and some girl-on-girl action. Are you sure you haven't been a sub all along?"
That earned her a snort from me, but Velvet—still perched in my lap, lips kissed raw and eyes starry—looked up at Alexis as if newly discovering her. "He likes to play at being in control, but he's easy to fluster," she proclaimed, then bit her lip as if realizing she'd said it aloud.
Alexis's smirk deepened, but she said nothing, content to let the implication float between us. Velvet, emboldened by thesupport, twisted slightly in my lap—her dress riding high on her thighs, the smooth skin of her legs bare and warm against my hands. She looked at me, truly looked, with the sort of directness that always managed to pin me to the spot.
"You like watching?" she asked, voice velvet and smoke, but with a glimmer of mischief. "Or do you just like being teased until you lose control?"
It was a trap—one I couldn't help but walk into.
"Both," I admitted, surprised at my own honesty, but the admission seemed to please her. She smiled, a slow and indulgent thing, then reached up to tuck a strand of purple behind her ear. She was radiant—face shining with satisfaction and a new kind of confidence that made my chest ache.
Alexis watched this exchange, her eyes flicking from me to Velvet and back, then she shrugged, as if suddenly bored of the power play. She picked up the bowl of fruit again, popping a raspberry into her mouth with exaggerated nonchalance, only to turn away with a dismissive, "You two can sort it out. I've got coffee to make."
We watched her go, and I was keenly aware of every place Velvet's body touched mine—hips, thighs, the delicate line of her back pressed to my chest. She tilted her head, regarding me with the same intensity I'd seen in boardrooms, only now it was focused entirely on me.
Velvet giggles again—the sound is quickly becoming my favorite—before turning those dark eyes on me. Her hand comes up to grip my chin, forcing me to meet her gaze when instinct makes me want to look away from the intensity.
"Are you?" Her voice has dropped an octave, omega authority that most people don't know exists. "Turned on by watching that?"
The question hangs between us like a loaded weapon. I could lie, deflect, make a joke. Instead, I hold her gaze and whisper the truth.
"Yes."
Her pupils blow wide, and I watch her process this information—that her new Alpha gets aroused watching her with others, that the pack dynamics might be more complex than traditional arrangements.
"Should I help you handle that?" The question is innocent, but the way she shifts in my lap—deliberate pressure against my erection—is anything but.
"Handle what?" I challenge, though my voice breaks slightly when she moves again, a slow grind that has me seeing stars.
She doesn't answer with words. Another shift, this time with a subtle roll of her hips that has me gripping her waist with both hands. My forehead drops to hers, our breath mingling as I fight for control.
"Careful," I growl, the sound coming from somewhere deep and primal. "You're awakening something dangerous this early in the morning."
"Maybe I like danger." Her whisper ghosts across my lips. "Maybe I've been safe for too long."
"Velvet—" My warning was little more than a plea, my voice hollow with the last thread of self-restraint. But she ignored it in favor of the slow, tantalizing drag of her fingers up my jaw, the tips combing through my hair as if searching for a hidden switch that would turn me from man to beast. Her gaze never left mine, pupils blown so wide the ring of iris was a thin threadwork of midnight blue.
"Maybe," she whispered, her breath tickling the shell of my ear as she leaned closer, "I want to see what happens when Alessandro Lucien Devereaux stops being a gentleman." The way she pronounced my full name—deliberately, with an edge ofchallenge—felt like she was reciting an incantation instead of a dare.
Her hand fisted in my hair, tugging my face closer until our lips were a bare millimeter apart. I could taste the residual berry flavor from Alexis's kiss, mingling with Velvet's own, and the combination sent a shudder down my back. It was intoxicating—the way her mouth hovered just out of reach, the heat of her body bleeding into mine, the absolute certainty that she wanted me to lose control. That she wanted me to show her, not tell her, what happened when you poked the sleeping wolf.
For a split second, I imagined pinning her to the kitchen island, her body spread out like a feast, Alexis's fruit cup forgotten in favor of the hunger that threatened to consume me. I could already see the way her legs would wrap around my waist, the sound she'd make when my hands found the hem of her dress. The prospect was as dangerous as it was tempting, and I could feel the last shreds of chivalry burning away in the heat between our bodies.
"Careful," I growled, lips brushing hers with every word. "You don't know what you're asking for."
"I think I do." She traced the line of my jaw, her nails barely scraping skin, and for a moment the room went quiet except for the labored tempo of our breathing. My hand slid up her thigh, inching higher, her flesh hot and taut beneath my palm.
She grinned, a wicked thing, before tugging me forward and closing the distance between our mouths. The kiss was not gentle—she bit, pulled, devoured, and I answered with a low growl that seemed to vibrate straight from my chest into hers. Our teeth clacked, tongues fought for dominance, and there was nothing refined or polite about it.
When we finally broke apart, both gasping, her hand was still tangled in my hair and her dress had hiked up nearly to her hips. I reached down, smoothing it back into place only to let my handlinger at the bare skin of her thigh, savoring the tremor that ran through her when I squeezed just above her knee.
She looked at me, eyes starry, lips swollen and wet.
"Don't stop," she whispered, and I was about to answer her—maybe with words, maybe with teeth—when Alexis's laugh sliced through the moment, sharp and amused.
Alexis laughs from somewhere behind us.
