Page 12 of My Defiant Mate
"Let them." I drag my nose along the column of his throat, a rough, desperate scrape of skin against skin. I'm not just smelling him; I'm erasing everything else, scrubbing away the scent of this building and Henderson's bullshit with my own. I need him to smell right again. "Let them see who you belong to."
"We can't—I have responsibilities—Henderson said—"
I shut him up with my mouth, swallowing his protests. I pour all my frustration, all my rage at Henderson, all my desperate need forhiminto the kiss, biting his bottom lip just to feel him gasp. I use the opening to slide my tongue inside, tasting him. He tastes like coffee and fear and the sweetest surrender.
Mine.The word isn't just a thought anymore; it's a physical need, a command my body has to obey.
For a second, he stays rigid, fighting it. Then, with a soft whimper that goes straight to my dick, he melts. His hands, which had been pushing me away, fist in the front of my shirt, clinging to me.
I press him harder against the books, my body molding to his. My hand stays tangled in his hair, holding his head right where I want it. My other hand slides down his chest and presses flat over his heart. It's hammering like a trapped bird.
When I finally pull back for air, we're both breathing hard. His glasses are crooked, his lips are swollen and red. He looks completely wrecked. Completely claimed. My alpha purrs.
"Tell me you don't want this," I challenge him, my voice rough. "Tell me you want me to walk away and leave you alone."
He closes his eyes, a pained look on his face. "I can't."
"Can't what?" I press. I need to hear it.
"I can't stop thinking about you." He admits it like it hurts to say, raw and honest. "I've tried. All day. I can't focus. I can't think straight. It's like you're under my skin."
Victory is hot and sweet in my veins. "That's because I am. And you're under mine."
I lean in again, softer this time, pressing my forehead against his. "I don't know what this is either, Toby. I've spent my whole life running from this shit. My parents—" I stop. "But I'm not running fromyou. This is the only thing that's ever felt real."
"It's not that simple," he whispers, but his voice is shaky, losing its conviction. "My job—"
"We'll figure it out," I growl.
Voices echo from the end of the aisle. Toby stiffens, his eyes flying wide with panic.
"I have to go," he whispers, shoving at my chest again.
I want to hold him here. I want to take him against these philosophy books until he forgets all about Henderson and his stupid rules. But the fear in his eyes is real, and I won't be the one to get him fired.
Not yet.
I step back, putting a few feet of space between us just as two girls round the corner, talking about some psych class. They barely look at us before moving on.
Toby lets out a shaky breath. He bends down to pick up the book he dropped, his hands trembling. "This is exactly what I'm talking about," he hisses when they're gone. "We can't—it's too risky."
I watch him straighten his glasses, smooth down my hoodie, trying to put his armor back on. But he can't hide the flush on his cheeks or the way his pupils are still blown wide.
He's mine. He just needs to accept it.
"I have to go," he says again, clutching the book to his chest. "I have a floor meeting at seven, and then rounds, and—"
"And after that?" I interrupt.
He blinks. "What?"
"After your rounds. After you've checked all the boxes and followed all the rules. Where will you go?"
He hesitates. In that small pause, I see the truth. He wants to come back to me. He's just too scared to say it.
I reach into my pocket and pull out my dorm key.
"I'll be waiting," I say, holding it out to him.
