Page 73 of In Knots

He takes a photo from his position near the doorway, gradually coming closer to the bed with each shot. When he’s right beside me, he bends over, focusing in on all of me.

Then he places a knee between my legs and presses down on the button again, the camera clicking electronically.

“You need a proper camera,” he mutters.

“My mother bought–”

“Film. You need a film one. Cameras are like bikes. The new ones look all fancy, but they don’t do the job as well as the old ones. They aren’t made in the same way.” He rests a hand on my thigh. “I’ll look out for one for you.”

He kneels up onto the bed, reaching over me to place the camera on the bedside table.

“You’ll send me a copy, right?” he asks.

“I’ll let you look at some copies,” I tell him.

He smiles, lopsided. “Fair enough.” Then he meets my eye. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Please,” I say, and he lowers his head, his arms braced around me, and meets my lips.

I sigh and close my eyes, kissing him back. We kiss for never-ending, stretching minutes, his mouth moving against mine; sometimes soft caresses and nibbles of my lips, sometimes more forceful, thrusting his tongue inside my mouth and kissing me with the whole force of his jaw.

Every inch of my skin starts to tingle and that wetness slips from between my thighs, making a mess of his sheets.

He pulls away, and I reach up to twine my fingers around the back of his head and drag him down.

“No, Alexa.”

“No?” I ask. I’m not exactly used to these men saying no to me. Perhaps I’m more spoiled than I thought.

“You’re not ready for this yet.” I frown at him. “Look,” he says, knocking his forehead gently against mine, “I’m not trying to tell you what you should and shouldn’t do – I haven’t got any interest in that – but I have to do what I think is best too. And you’re,” he screws up his face, “newly broken in. Your hormones are probably all over the place. I’m not taking advantage of that.”

“We talked about it last night. We agreed.”

“I just don’t want you to rush into this.”

“My hormones are just fine,” I sulk, wondering if perhaps they are all screwed up.

“I want this, OK. But I need to know you are sure.”

“You’re a good guy,” I say, stroking his cheek and blowing out air through my mouth, trying to calm the raging little omega inside me, who wants to flip over and wriggle her cunt right in his face. But he’s right. This is getting out of hand, and while I want it, I’m pretty certain of that, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to catch my breath and take a pause.

I nod at him.

“You’re OK?”

I examine my emotions and my body. “I think maybe I am. And maybe a little rejection is a good thing.”

He smiles and it’s infectious. “Yeah, I bet you don’t get rejected very often, do you?”

“By alphas, not really.” I stroke his cheek some more. “But I did get tossed out of a car by one the other night.”

“Knobhead!” he spits.

And I laugh, scooting up to let him flop down on the bed beside me.

Soon, I’m quiet again and I lace my fingers through his. “I’d better go.”

He watches me curl up and shuffle to the edge of the bed.

“Alexa,” he says. “Can I give you some advice, I’ve been trying to give myself?”

I screw up my brow. “What?”

“This thing, it … it may not work out … don’t get too attached.” Is he trying to hurt me? I stare at him, feeling the air grow cold. He reaches out and touches my arm. “I’m not saying that to be mean. But I assume you aren’t really serious about this in the long run. This isn’t your world. I think we all know you’re going to walk away eventually.”

“We don’t all know that,” I say, tugging my arm away and leaving the room.

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