Page 68 of The Knotheads Next Door
Her lips meet mine with a tentative softness that quickly gives way to something deeper, more urgent. I cup her face with one hand, the other still at the small of her back, drawing her closer. She makes a small, needy sound against my mouth that sends heat coursing through me.
It's everything I've been imagining and nothing like I expected—better, realer, charged with an intensity that makes my head spin. Her scent surrounds me, intoxicating in its sweetness, and I find myself deepening the kiss, wanting to taste more of her, to memorize the feel of her lips against mine.
Her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer even as she pushes up onto her tiptoes to better align our heights. It's clumsy and perfect and overwhelming, the rightness of it hitting me with physical force.
Then, as suddenly as it began, she's pulling away, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, lips parted and slightly swollen from my kisses.
"I... I shouldn't have done that," she stammers, taking another step back until she bumps into the examination table. Gerald mews in protest at the disturbance.
"Why not?" I ask, my voice rougher than usual. I don't advance toward her, giving her the space she clearly needs, though every instinct in me screams to close the distance again.
"Because it's—we're—" She gestures vaguely between us. "Complicated."
"It doesn't have to be," I say softly. "Not if we don't want it to be."
She lets out a shaky laugh that holds no humor. "Right. Because living with three alphas as an emerging omega isn't complicated enough without adding... this."
She's not wrong. But the simplicity of what just happened—the rightness of her in my arms—makes all those complications seem surmountable.
"I'm not asking for anything you're not ready to give," I tell her, meaning it despite the ache in my chest. "I would never push you, Rowan."
She meets my eyes again, her expression a complex mixture of want and fear. "I know," she says quietly. "That's what makes this so hard."
Gerald chooses that moment to let out a demanding meow, breaking the tension. Rowan scoops him up, holding him against her chest like a shield.
"Thank you," she says, her voice steadier now. "For checking him. And for... being you."
"Always," I promise, knowing she understands I mean more than just veterinary care.
She nods once, then hurries out, the bell above the door chiming softly as it closes behind her.
I stand there long after she's gone, the ghost of her lips still on mine, her scent lingering in the sterile air of the examinationroom. I touch my mouth, half-convinced I imagined the whole encounter.
But no—it was real. That kiss, the way she responded, the softness in her eyes before panic set in. That wasn't biology or instinct or omega hormones responding to an alpha presence.
That was Rowan. Responding to me.
Whatever is happening between us—between all of us in that house—just got infinitely more complicated. And with only eight days left before her trial month ends, we're running out of time to figure it out.
But one thing I know with absolute certainty: she felt it too. That connection, that rightness, that sense of pieces clicking into place that have been misaligned for too long.
She felt it. And sooner or later, we're all going to have to stop pretending this is temporary.
Chapter 20
Wells
I’ve never had a problem letting people go. I am excellent at maintaining distance. It's a skill that has served me well both professionally and personally—the ability to assess situations objectively, to make decisions based on facts rather than feelings, to keep messy emotions from clouding judgment.
So why can't I stop watching her?
Across the town square, Rowan stands on a ladder, carefully hanging paper lanterns from tree branches while Lala steadies the base below. Avianna passes up more decorations, their laughter carrying across the busy festival grounds as they work. Rowan's hair is pulled back in a messy bun, tendrils escaping to frame her face, catching the late afternoon sunlight with hints of bronze and gold.
She looks... happy. Relaxed in a way I rarely see at home, where tension has been building like a summer storm these past few days. Her smile is genuine, her movements easy, her scent carrying notes of contentment that make something in my chest tighten unexpectedly.
"Earth to Wells," Mayor Tillie's voice breaks through my reverie. "The vendor approval forms won't sign themselves."
I drag my attention back to the clipboard in my hands. "Right. Of course."
