Page 16 of The Alpha's Runaway Mate
His mouth curves, slow and dangerous. “Didn’t want you putting on something cold and dirty after that shower.”
“That’s not the point,” I argue weakly.
“It’s exactly the point,” he says, voice rough. “You needed to be clean. You needed to be comfortable.” His gaze dips once more, slow and unhurried. “And damn, you look… comfortable.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” he says, leaning back on his hands, eyes still locked on me. “But you’re safe. That’s what matters.”
The bond hums louder now, vibrating under my skin like a live current. He’s close enough that I can feel it pulling at me, whispering that if I just take one step forward, the world will stop spinning so fast.
I don’t move. Neither does he.The space between us feels heavy, thick with everything we’re both pretending not to want.
His eyes stay on me, unreadable but intense. The firelight flickers over his bare chest, catching the edges of the ink curling up his arms, the muscles in his shoulders tightening as if he’s holding himself still by sheer willpower. “Come here, Jessica.” The words are low, rough, but not a command, more like a pull, a gravity I can feel in my bones.
My breath stutters. Every instinct in me wants to move toward him, wants to sink into that heat and let it swallow me whole. But the part of me that’s been running, that’s survived on keeping my distance hesitates.
I take one small step. Then another. His eyes darken, his jaw flexing as I cross the space between us. By the time I reach him, my pulse is hammering so hard I swear he can hear it.
Nolan lifts a hand, slow and deliberate, giving me every chance to stop him. His palm comes to rest at my hip, fingers splaying lightly over the fabric of his shirt against my skin. The heat of him seeps straight through the cotton.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, voice a low rumble that vibrates through me. “Right here.”
I’m standing between his knees, the bond a live wire humming louder than my thoughts. His thumb strokes once over my hip, and his gaze lifts to mine.
“You feel it, don’t you?” he asks softly. “The pull. The bond.”
I nod, unable to lie. “I don’t understand it…”
“You don’t have to yet.” His voice drops even lower, gravel and velvet. “All you need to know is you’re safe with me. Always.”
He brushes a damp strand of hair from my cheek, his knuckles warm against my skin. “I’ll keep my hands to myself if you need me to,” he murmurs. “But don’t ever doubt that I’ll protect you.”
The room feels smaller, the air thicker. My heart pounds in time with his, the bond pulling, tugging, whispering.
Nolan’s thumb tilts my chin up just enough for our eyes to lock. “Good girl,” he whispers, the words sliding over my skin like heat. “Now breathe.”
I draw in a shaky breath, his scent filling my lungs, his presence wrapping around me. Every inch of me is aware of him, his warmth, his strength, his restraint. I’m still trying to breathe when his hand slides from my hip to my waist, guiding me forward with a patience that feels deliberate, practiced. I think he’s going to stop there, keep that tiny, safe bit of space between us, but then he exhales, low and rough, and tugs me closer.
Before I know it, I’m straddling his lap. My knees sink into the mattress on either side of him, my hands braced on his shoulders for balance. His body is all heat and muscle beneath me, and the moment we touch, the bond flares, bright, hot, alive.
Nolan’s breath shudders against my throat. His hands stay steady on my hips, fingers pressing in just enough to make my pulse skip. His eyes meet mine, blue and fierce in the glow of the fire.
“See?” he murmurs. “This. This is what happens when you fight it. The bond doesn’t like distance.”
I can barely think past the pounding in my chest. “And if I stop fighting it?”
His jaw tightens, and for a second, I see the beast under his skin, the one that prowls behind those eyes. “Then I’ll have to work twice as hard not to lose control.” He says it like a warning, but it feels like a promise.
I swallow hard, my hands curling against his shoulders. “You said you’d keep your hands to yourself,” I whisper, my voice unsteady.
“I am.” His mouth curves, slow and dangerous. “You’re the one sitting in my lap, Jessica.” The way he says my name, low, reverent, claiming, makes something inside me melt. The air between us hums. His heartbeat pounds against mine, steady, grounding. He studies me like he’s memorizing every line of my face, every breath I take.
“You need rest,” he says finally, though his voice sounds like it’s betraying him. “You’ve been running too long.”
I nod, even though I don’t move. “I don’t think I can sleep.”
“Then stay here,” he says softly. “Let me hold you. No running. No pretending.”
