Page 28 of The Alpha's Runaway Mate
“You keep looking at me like that,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, “and I’m not going to be able to stop.”
“I’m not asking you to,” I whisper before I can think better of it.
Something shifts in the air between us, thicker, heavier, electric. His hand keeps moving, slow and deliberate, sliding higher, stopping just shy of where his touch would burn. My pulse hammers so loud it fills my ears.
“Jessica,” he says, my name rough on his tongue. It’s not a question, not really. It’s a warning wrapped in desire.
“I know,” I breathe. “But I don’t want to run anymore.”
That’s all it takes. He moves, not fast but with purpose, his hand slipping around the back of my knee, guiding me closer. I go willingly, the world narrowing to his warmth, his scent, the steady rhythm of his breathing.
I end up straddling his lap, my knees sinking into the couch cushions, my hands finding the hard lines of his shoulders. He exhales slowly, like he’s been holding that breath forever, his forehead dropping to mine.
“Tell me to stop,” he says again, voice barely a growl.
“I won’t.”
His eyes darken. His thumb brushes my jaw, then my lower lip. “Good,” he murmurs, and then he’s kissing me, slow at first, reverent, like he’s testing how deep this thing between us really goes.
The kiss deepens, heat curling low in my stomach. His hands frame my hips, guiding me closer until I can feel every inch of him beneath me. My fingers thread through his hair, pulling just enough to make him growl softly into my mouth.
The sound vibrates through me, low and primal, and I swear the air itself shifts, like the bond is tightening around us, threading us together one heartbeat at a time.
He breaks the kiss only long enough to rest his forehead against mine, breathing hard. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
I smile against his mouth, breathless. “Maybe I’m starting to.”
His laugh is quiet, strained. “Careful, Sweetheart.” His lips brush my ear, his voice a low rumble. “I bite.”
A shiver rolls through me, sharp and sweet. “I don’t scare that easy.”
He groans softly, his hands tightening at my waist, and the rest of the world fades, the fire, the house, everything, until it’s just us and the steady hum of something too strong to name.
The last thing I remember before the world dissolves into heat and breath and whispered promises is his voice, rough and certain against my skin.
“Mine,” he murmurs, like it’s both a vow and a prayer.
TEN
NOLAN
She’s stillin my arms when I cross the living room, her breath warm against my neck, fingers fisted in the back of my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll vanish if she lets go.
Her scent’s everywhere, wildflowers and rain My bear stirs beneath my skin at that, a slow, satisfied roll of muscle and need.Mine,it says, not with words but with bone-deep certainty that steadies my hands even as heat licks up my spine.
I shift my hold, one arm under her knees, the other at her back. “You good?” I murmur, even though every part of me already knows.
Her lashes lift. “Yeah.” A whisper that unspools something tight in my chest.
I carry her up the narrow staircase to the second floor, each creaking step echoing in the quiet. The hall at the top is dim, moonlight spilling from the bedroom ahead in a pale rectangle across the floor. The bed’s made, because I’m that kind of bastard, neat even when my head’s a storm, but I know it won’t be for long.
She presses a kiss to the side of my throat as we cross the threshold. It’s nothing, barely there, but it steals my breath all the same. I set her on the edge of the mattress, and she sinks into the give of it, hands braced, lips parted. The sight nearly undoes me.
“Jess,” I say, because I like the way her name grounds me. Because I need to warn her that I’m not good at this, at slow, at gentle, but I’ll damn well try.
She looks up. “Nolan.”
Just my name. Soft as a secret. I swear I feel it brand my ribs from the inside out.
