Page 45 of Knot So Sweet
Pure, undiluted omega want.
"Sorry if the music was loud, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” I force the words out, “couldn't sleep.” Turning back to the stove. Moving a pan that doesn't require moving. Adjusting a burner that's already off. My hands require something to do or they'll reach for her. "You?"
"Same."
Her soft footsteps pad across the tile as she moves around the prep station. Coming toward me. Each step brings her scent closer, stronger, until it's all I can smell. Until the garlic and herbs and lemon sanitizer are completely overwhelmed by vanilla and honey and omega.
I focus on the stove. On the gleaming surface. On anything except how my body responds to her proximity. How my scent intensifies, coffee and cedar getting stronger, mixing with hers in the air between us.
"What are you making?"
She's right behind me now. Close enough that I can sense her presence like a physical weight against my back even though she's not touching me.
"Nothing." My voice comes out all gravel and longing. I grip the edge of the stove harder, metal biting into my palms. "Just keeping my hands busy."
The kitchen feels too quiet. Celine continues singing but I can barely hear it over the rush of blood in my ears. Over the sound of Violet's breathing behind me, slightly faster than normal.
She craves this too.
"Xaden."
My name sounds different in her mouth. Softer. Like a question and an answer at once. Like an invitation I've been waiting weeks to hear.
I turn around slowly, and give myself time to get control. Time to remember all the reasons this is a terrible idea.
She's right there. Maybe a foot away, close enough that I could reach out and touch her without even extending my arm. Looking up at me with those blue eyes that see too much. That strip away defenses I've carefully built.
Her cheeks are flushed. Pink spreading from her cheekbones down her throat, disappearing under the collar of Garrick's shirt. Her breathing comes faster than normal, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that draws my gaze before I force it back to her face.
And her scent. God, her scent does things to me that should be illegal. Igniting my alpha instincts with demands to claim, to take, to mark. Erasing logical thought under the weight of pure desire.
I can see everything she's not saying. The loneliness written in the set of her shoulders. The wanting in how her hands fidget with the hem of Garrick's shirt, fingers twisting in the soft fabric. The same thing I've been fighting for weeks reflected back at me in her dilated pupils.
"This is a terrible idea," I say, but even as the words leave my mouth, I'm taking a step closer. My body moving before my brain catches up.
She doesn't back away. Doesn't move at all except to tilt her head back slightly to keep eye contact. Her throat exposes now, pale and soft, and her pulse jumps.
"Probably." Her voice stays quiet but steady. Sure. "But I'm tired of good ideas."
Something in me snaps.
Not breaking. Surrendering.
I reach for her slowly. Give her time to change her mind. Time to step back. Time to remember all the reasons we shouldn't do this.
She doesn't move.
My hands settle on her waist. Find the soft fabric of the stolen t-shirt. The cotton feels thin, worn soft from too many washes. I can feel the warmth of her skin through it, feel how her breathing hitches at the contact. Feel the slight tremor that runs through her body.
I pull her against me. Slow. Deliberate. Giving her chances to stop this.
Her body fits perfectly. All soft curves pressing against hard muscle. Warmth and softness and everything my alpha has been craving. Her hands come up to my chest, palms flat against my shirt, and the touch sends electricity racing through nerves.
She tilts her head back further to look at me. Her lips are slightly parted, her scent, god, her scent is everywhere now. Wrapping around me. Sinking into my skin. Marking me in ways that should scare me but don't.
"Tell me to stop," I growl. The words scrape out of my throat, rough and desperate. Even though stopping is the last thing I want to do. Even though instinct screams at me to close the distance between us.
"No." Her hands fist in my shirt, gripping tight. "Don't stop."
