Page 20 of A Pack of Mistletoe
“Yeah. Harlan said to make it look like we’re madly scent-matched and in love. I’m game if you are.”
Right. The act. So far, we’ve just walked side by side. We don’t evenlooklike we’re together. I probably come across more like his assistant than his mate.
Evander winks. On anyone else, it would be cheesy. On him, it’s infuriatingly natural. Maybe it’s the chiseled jaw. Maybe the sharp green eyes. Either way, I can’t keep a straight face.
“What did you have in mind?” I whisper, aware of the eavesdropping photographers.
“First, ground rules. Touching?”
The question surprises me. Of all the alphas, he seemed the most impulsive.
“Candy,” he goes on, “none of us would ever do anything without your explicit permission. You tell me the rules, and I’ll pass them along to the others.”
“I agreed to pretend,” I counter.
“That’s not permission.”
“It’s what I agreed to.”
“You aresostubborn.”
The words hit a nerve. It’s something I used to hear right before a reprimand. But Evander just smiles. “If you want to keep touch out of it, we can work around it,” he says gently.
That seems absurd. More than that, Ilikeit when he leans close. It’s been so long since I let anyone in. I had boyfriends before my designation, but since then I’ve been too busy hiding to risk it. Touch starvation is a real danger for omegas, but I’d avoided it, thanks to the drugs. Still, now, the thought of touch makes me giddy and desperate all at once. A sign the drugs are fading.
“Touch is fine,” I manage.
His hand slips into mine, long fingers wrapping firmly.
At the Café, the Saturday morning line spills out the door. Evander lifts our joined hands and presses a kiss to the back of mine, sending tingles all the way up my arm.
“Kissing?” he asks.
I bite my lip and nod.
He catches the motion, tugging my bottom lip free with his thumb, tracing it slow. “Hugging?”
I roll my eyes. “Anything that looks like mate behavior in public.”
His grin turns wicked, sharp enough to make me instantly regret the words. He releases my hand only to slide his arm around my waist, pulling me flush against him.
My breath hitches. His green eyes catch mine, and all the amusement vanishes.
He bends, skimming his nose along my cheek to my ear. “Is this considered acceptable?” he murmurs.
"Yes," I breathe, fisting my hands in the lapels of his coat.
His lips follow, brushing the sensitive skin beneath my ear. A moan escapes before I can stop it.
He smiles against me, then scent-marks my neck.
When he pulls back, his face is triumphant. And my heart lurches—then sinks. Because for one stupid second... I wished it wasn’t pretend.
I am so, so fucked.
Harlan
I shouldn't have left Evander to watch Rose.
