Page 24 of Perfectly Naïve
Sawyer cups my chin and smooths his thumb over my cheek. “There’s nothing to apologize for. I made sure the pack had something to do tonight, since it’s only our second date. Fake date,” he quickly corrects. “Either way, I’m happy if you’re happy. Feeling better?”
“Much.” I don’t fill him in on the problem banging around in my mind. Why was my reaction so strong with him, and not with other people? Why did the scent of his pack send me into overdrive? I’ve been around different smells all week, though, admittedly, today is the most I’ve been able to detect them. This can all probably be attributed to the way I feel around Sawyer. My body knows he can and will provide both safety and pleasure. Combine that knowledge with his scent and, apparently, it makes me horny and unpredictable.
As for his pack . . . well. Our scents are compatible.
The realization whispers through my mind, and my heart skips a beat.This isn’t a real relationship, Liv. He’s only here because you begged him to teach you how to be a good omega.
What happens if he knots me and I like it?
What happens when he’s ready to be done playing professor?
What if his packmates hate me?
Sawyer’s nostrils flare and his eyes narrow. “What are you thinking?”
“Science,” I blurt, sliding off his lap, grabbing my purse from the floor. I don’t remember dropping it, but I was focused fully on him for a few minutes there. Notepad inhand, I click my pen and scribble some notes, losing myself in something familiar, so I can stop worrying about whether I’m capable of no strings attached.
“Science,” he says with a hum. “And what, exactly, about it?”
“Our scents are compatible,” I say, focusing on a point above his head. If I look at him, I might climb right back into his lap, and that wouldn't be very no-strings of me. “Which is good, given that we’ll be progressing to knotting soon.” When I find my pack, shouldn’t I know how to please more than one mate at a time?
Sawyer makes a strangled noise.
My gaze drifts to meet his. “Are you okay?”
His cheeks are bright red. “Fine.”
Maybe he doesn’t want to knot me. My scent sours, and I slip my attention to the spot just above his head. “Nature makes pheromones for a reason. It’s how animals communicate, mate, and reproduce. Given that I enjoy your scent, it’s reasonable to conclude that you like mine.”
“I do,” he confirms, standing.
I shift my gaze to avoid looking at him. This has to remain clinical. “Right. So, as we progress, at least there won’t be a natural resistance interfering with the research.”
Sawyer steps toward me. “Liv?”
The spot I'm staring at is dirty. “Do you know that you need to clean your walls?”
He moves into my line of vision. “Liv, look at me.”
Pressing my lips together, I take a breath and crane my neck, steeling myself for the intensity of his scent. Sawyer eases in. Cinnamon and sugar coil around me. My knees weaken.
His eyes bounce between mine, and he cups my face with his hands. “Have I ever told you I hate science?”
My eyebrows slam together. “You hate science?”
He nods. “It can be cold.”
What is he saying? “But it’s everything. It’s how the world works, it’s logic, it’s reason, it’s?—”
“Everything you’re saying is true, but you know what science doesn’t have?”
“What?”
“Emotion.”
“That’s not true. Scientists have been studying emotions and the human experience.”
“I think we’re missing the point,” he murmurs, lowering his face toward mine. Our lips are inches apart. The air between us fizzles and crackles, almost electric. “You’re so smart, Liv.”
