Page 29 of The Alpha's Runaway Mate
I bend and kiss her, no hesitation, no testing. Deep. I taste the sweetness of her breath, the edge of her laughter, the grit of a day that should’ve broken her but didn’t. Her mouth opens under mine like she’s been waiting, like she knows I’ve been holding a line for too long. My hand slides into her hair, fingers sinking into the soft strands, tilting her where I want her. She makes a sound, small and hungry, and I swallow it, answer it, give back more.
Her palms skate under my shirt, and my body jolts like she’s struck a match to tinder. The heat’s immediate. Ravenous. I pull back just enough to search her eyes.
“Tell me if you want to stop,” I say, voice rough. “I mean it.”
Her smile’s a little shaky, a lot brave. “I’ll tell you if I want more.”
Fuck.I’m gone. I peel my shirt over my head and toss it blindly, then catch the hem of hers. “Arms up, baby.” The word slips out, gravel and promise. She lifts her arms without hesitation, and Ipull the fabric off, her skin catching moonlight. For a second I just look. She doesn’t hide. She lets me have the moment, chest rising, eyes on me like she’s cataloging every breath I take.
“You’re beautiful,” I say before fear can clamp my jaw shut. It’s not a line. It’s a confession.
Color spills into her cheeks. “You’re biased.”
“Not biased.” I hook two fingers in the strap of her bra, tracing the line of it across her shoulder. “Possessed.”
Her breath hitches. “That supposed to scare me?”
“It should.” I lean in, mouth at her ear. “But I’ll spend the rest of my life proving you don’t need to be scared of me.”
The bear rumbles at that, approval, contentment, a low thunder, and I have to close my eyes for a second and breathe through it. I unclasp her bra and it falls away, and then my hands are on her, rough palms learning softness I haven’t earned but intend to. She arches into me, and I lower my head and taste her, slow at first because I want to hear all her sounds. I want to know the difference between the gasp that meansalmostand the one that meansright there.
“God,” she whispers, fingers spearing into my hair, tugging like she doesn’t know she’s doing it. “Nolan…”
“Yeah?” I drag my mouth up the line of her throat, feel her pulse kick against my tongue.
“Don’t stop.”
Like I could.
I press her back into the mattress and come down over her, caging without trapping, my weight braced on my forearms soshe can breathe, move, push me away if she wants. She doesn’t. She hooks a knee around my hip and pulls me closer, and the friction rips a groan out of me I can’t swallow. I kiss her again, deeper, slower, tongue stroking until she’s restless under me, until she’s rolling her hips to find more.
“Tell me,” I say against her mouth, because I need her to shape it in words.
She swallows. “I need you.”
I go still, forehead pressed to hers. The simplest sentence in the world, and it feels like mercy. “I’ve got you.”
I strip the rest of the way, shove my jeans and boxers down with rough urgency I don’t bother to hide. Her eyes drag over me, and something hot and primal flashes across her face, want, sure, but also possession that mirrors my own.Mine,her body seems to say. I bare my teeth in something that isn’t quite a smile.
I settle between her thighs, one hand braced by her head, the other trailing down the curve of her belly to the warm, slick heat waiting for me. I stroke her once, twice and her hips jerk, a broken sound slipping free. I want to memorize her, how quickly she swells under my touch, the way her breath stutters when I circle my thumb around her swollen clit. When her head tips back and her throat arches, I lean down and bite that spot gently, soothing after with my tongue.
“Nolan, please.” It’s thepleasethat unravels me. Not desperate, not begging, trusting.
I line up my cock and press forward slowly, every inch a prayer and a curse. Her pussy’s tight and perfect and my name leavesher mouth on a gasp. I stop halfway, jaw gritted, and look at her. “Okay?”
She nods, eyes dark. “More.”
I give her more. The first thrust is careful. The second, less so, because she meets me, body welcoming mine like we’ve done this a hundred times. The rhythm builds, slow and unhurried, because I’m not racing tonight. Tonight I want to show her what it means when a man like me saysmine.Not a chain. A home.
Her nails drag down my back, a sting I feel all the way to my teeth. I brace, drive deeper, and she breaks under me, the sound half sob, half laugh, tears shining at the corners of her eyes but not falling. I kiss them anyway, just in case.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur again, because it’s the only truth that matters. “I’ve got you, Jess.”
She shatters first, body tightening around me, mouth open on a silent cry. The way she clings, the way she pulses around me, it rips the ground out from under my feet. I follow hard, thrusting deep and holding there, forehead pressed to hers, everything in me pouring into the space where we meet. For a breath, for a long stretch of breaths, there’s nothing but her heart hammering against my chest and mine pounding back.
When the world filters in, air, sound, the ache in my arms, I ease down, careful with my weight, careful with the sudden, stupid tenderness clawing up my throat. I kiss her slow, lazy, the edges of us already softening into something that feels dangerous in a different way.
She laughs, breathless, the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. “You’re heavy,” she whispers, but she doesn’t try to move me.
