Page 149 of Knotting the Firefighters
This is going to be good.
I can't suppress the chuckle that escapes, genuine amusement at her shock.
"Yeah. Aidric is exceptional at line dancing—won awards and competitions back in his youth, and maintains skills through regular practice. Calder excels at most forms of dance, but particularly club environments where he can demonstrate his natural dominance through movement."
I pause, considering how much to reveal.
"That's where their dynamic really shows—Aidric soaking up Calder's commanding presence like he's starving for it, Calder providing exactly the kind of direction Aidric craves without consciously acknowledging. Think that's a significant factor in why their relationship developed the way it did."
Dancing as foreplay.
Movement as communication.
Physical expression of desires they couldn't articulate verbally.
Wendolyn whistles—low, impressed sound that suggests wheels are already turning.
"Operation: Get The Alphas Line Dancing shall commence immediately," she declares with mock seriousness, plotting evident in her expression.
She's going to meddle.
Actively work to push them together.
This will either be brilliant or catastrophic.
Possibly both simultaneously.
I lean in, closing the distance until we're sharing air, my voice dropping to an intimate register.
"What operation are you planning to get my attention focused exclusively on you?"
Direct.
Extremely direct.
Warned her I don't do subtle.
Color floods her cheeks again—that delightful blush that makes me want to discover exactly how far down it extends, whether it covers her chest, her stomach, other areas I'm increasingly determined to explore.
"You're more direct than I expected," she breathes, clearly affected despite an attempt at composure.
"Most medical professionals observe before we act," I explain, hand coming up to trace her jawline with clinical precision disguised as a caress. "We watch, we assess, we gather data—then we pounce when optimal opportunity presents itself."
Like now.
Right now is an optimal opportunity.
Empty shop, privacy, Omega, who's been unconsciously inviting attention all afternoon.
I punctuate the statement with a wink, enjoying the way she shivers at the implication.
Margaret's voice calls from the back room, interrupting a moment that was rapidly approaching the point of no return.
"I have to run to the other side of town for special delivery!" Her words carry cheerful unconcern about leaving her shop in the hands of relative strangers. "Don't mind holding down the fort while I'm gone, do you?"
Perfect timing.
Absolutely perfect timing.
