Page 137 of Mate
I guess I’m listening.
“There could never be disappointment, because there were never any comparisons, or expectations, or hopes, or standards to meet. There’s only . . .” He casts a glance around the room, searching. Then his eyes settle on me. “There is only you, Serena.”
It’s unacceptable, his adoring expression. I hide my burning face in my knees and scramble for something, anything to say, but my mind is blank and—
“Hey.” He pulls me closer, into his arms again. “It’s a Heat. It’s normal, feeling unsteady. I’ve got you, okay?” I nod, and he twines his fingers with mine. Lifts my arm and inhales the skin in the crook of my elbow, where my scent pools. “I could live here,” he murmurs. “In this crease.” A kiss, soft lipped.
“I thought my elbows were too ‘fucking sharp’ for your distinguished taste.”
He smiles. Nips at me. “It’s going to build up again. Soon. You’ll feel more and more out of control.”
“More out of control than earlier?”
“Yes.”
“How do you even know?”
“I’m the Alpha of this pack. I know everything.”
I squint. “What’s the square root of pi?”
“Zero point nine.”
“Okay, I should have asked you a questionIknow the answer to. I’m just surprised, since you’ve never had the exigency of spending a Heat with— ”
“I educated myself when you started smelling likeyou’dhave the exigency.” He lifts me into the curve of his body. Spoons me. “Just fucking believe me for once.”
“Hmm.”
“Rest while you can,” he orders.
Why not? This is nice. Perfect, even. I fall asleep nestled under his chin. Still thinking that— worse than earlier? Probably an exaggeration. I’ll be fine.
IT’S NOT. (AN EXAGGERATION.) BUT I AM. (FINE.)
Better than.
It hits me halfway through the first day, in the late afternoon light, a fleeting spell of clarity as I stare at Koen’s wide shoulders glistening above. He rocks inside me slowly, a languid, wet rhythm. I just came. A couple of times. He hasn’t yet. He tries tomake it last as long as possible, every single time, and this is the best I can recall feeling in years. My world, when narrowed to just Koen and our nest, is light and kind and full of revelries.
I lean back. Study his slack mouth. His eyes, closed, squeeze tighter with every thrust. Like he has to brace himself. Build a dam every time, to keep his orgasm from spilling out. Pleasure is written all over his features.
I smooth his damp hair back with my palm and say, “Koen.”
His eyelids flutter open. He nuzzles into my hand like a big, half-tamed beast. Presses a biting kiss into the flesh right undermy thumb, an invitation to continue. It makes my insides spasm.
“Thank you,” I tell him. “For this.”
“I told you not to— ”
I arch to shut him up with a kiss, and with a soft curse he slides one arm between my back and the mattress to pull me up.
“You’re welcome. Lucky for you, I’m so fucking”— a harder stroke— “selfless.”
I inhale sharply, already quivering along his cock. My orgasm builds quickly, violently, a warm rush that has my thighs locking around his hips. “No, I . . . Thank you. For making this so— ”
Before I can tell him how disorientinglygoodthis feels, his knot is growing, thick, inescapable, and he’s too busy hiking one of my legs back toward my chest to hear what I have to say.
This is how things should be, I think. Always.
