Page 109 of Eight Count Heat
I can hear the old guilt in his voice, the self-recrimination that still cuts deep. "What happened?"
"She went under. I didn't notice for almost a minute." His jaw tightens. "Then five minutes of CPR, not knowing if she'd be okay, if I'd killed her with my stupidity. She was fine, but those minutes when I didn't know..."
"That's why you're so protective."
"My family calls it my savior complex, but when I care about someone, I want to make sure they're safe. Taken care of."
"And you care about me." I already know the answer.
"I care about you." His eyes hold mine. "More than I should after two weeks. More than is smart, considering the circumstances."
The honesty in his voice makes my chest tight. Dating a teammate would complicate everything. Dating an Alpha when I'm an Omega would make it worse. But looking at Bo now, feeling the way my body responds to his proximity, I find myself not caring about the complications.
"Show me," I say.
"Show you what?"
"That this isn't just about stabilizing my heat. That you want me when my biology isn't driving the train."
His pupils dilate, nostrils flaring as he scents my arousal. "You sure about that?" His hand continues its exploration from before, palm brushing across my nipple with deliberate lightness.
"I’m sure." I let my head fall back against the pillow, exposing my neck in a gesture of trust. "I trust you. Want you inside me."
He accepts the invitation, lips trailing up the column of my throat. The touch ignites little sparks of pleasure, my body already responding despite the night's exertions.
"I want that too," he breathes, his hand drifting down my torso. "To be inside you. To fill you. Make you come again and again. Claim you as mine."
I should feel afraid of that, of the implications. But with Bo's pheromones wrapping around me and his body hard and insistent against mine, all I can do is arch into him, inviting more.
"Is that a promise?"
"If that's what you want." He kisses his way down my collarbone, his tongue leaving a warm trail against my skin.
"Right now I just want you." I gasp as his hand slips between my legs, finding me slick and swollen and aching.
"Then have me," he murmurs, fingers dipping into my core. "I'm yours."
His touch is sure and gentle, drawing pleasure out of me like music from a cello. I lose myself in sensation, in the slow rhythm of his fingers and the warmth of his mouth.
When he finally rolls me onto my back and sinks into me, I'm so wet and ready for him that I have to fight back tears. He doesn't move at first, just looks down at me, eyes full of things he can't say. Then he begins to move, slow and deep, his gaze never leaving mine.
This isn't sex or fucking or a biological imperative. It's something else, something I don't dare name, even as it spreads through me like a warm current. I wrap my legs around him, taking him deeper. Filling myself with him, his body, his scent. His breath hitches as he thrusts again, burying himself to the hilt.
"Reese," he whispers, and there's such reverence in the way he says my name. Like I'm something precious.
"Kiss me," I tell him.
So he does.
It's a different kind of claiming, the kind that starts in the heart. The kind I should be terrified of, but can't bring myself to runfrom. His lips meet mine, his tongue stroking against mine, and the world melts away.
There's only Bo, the heat of his body and the warmth in his eyes. There's only the way he touches me, the way he holds me. The way his cock fills me and his hands explore my body. There's only this moment, and the words he doesn't say.
This time is different from last night's frantic fucking. Slower, more deliberate, with a tenderness that threatens to break something open inside me. Bo maintains eye contact as he moves inside me, each thrust measured and deep. His gaze is so intense, so focused on my pleasure, that I almost have to look away.
But I don't. I hold his gaze, letting him see the effect he has on me, the vulnerability I usually keep hidden beneath layers of control and command.
"God, you're beautiful," he murmurs, one hand cupping my face. His thumb traces my lower lip, and I catch it between my teeth, nipping lightly.
