Page 49 of Knot for Me
“No. You cooked. I’ll do the dishes.”
“I don’t mind.” I go to grab her plate, but she pulls it back.
“You alphas are stubborn as hell.”
“Pot meet kettle.”
She glares at Marco. “Shut it.”
He mimes zipping his lips.
“How about we do it together?” I grab Lucas’ dirty glass and move to the sink.
Grumbling the whole time about how she’s the maid and I’m doing her work, she carries her and Marco’s plates over. I fill up the sink with soapy water, wanting to extend my time next to her by hand washing them.
“The dishwasher is right there,” she says, scraping the lone piece of broccoli on her plate into the trash.
“I don’t like to waste the water on a few plates.” I shrug. “Besides, the machine has nothing on these.” I flex my arms a little, basking in the way her gaze travels over my muscles.
“All right, tough guy. You can wash, I’ll dry.”
I point her to the towel drawer and she grabs one, coming to stand next to me. Marco sighs and mumbles something about needing to catch up on a show he’s watching. She looks over her shoulder and watches him leave, biting her lip.
“Nervous?” I ask, side-eyeing her.
“No,” she says. “I just remembered I was reading a book the other day.”
“Ah, the alien book.”
Laughing, she takes the first plate from me to dry. “Yeah, that book. You’ve read it?”
“Oh yeah, a few times. It’s one of my favorite series, next to the creepy stalker one I read the other day.”
“I didn’t peg you for a romance reader.”
Rinsing soap off of the next plate, I snicker. “That’s probably because I don’t like being pegged, that’s more Marco’s speed.”
She snorts, then covers her mouth. “Oh my God, seriously?”
I shrug. “No, but you never know with that guy.” For all I know, he may like it. We’ve always had separate relationships until we got our omega, but then she passed. We never got the chance to try the whole pack sex thing.
“Yeah, he seems like he might be a little kinky.” She takes the plate and dries it. “You seem a little more vanilla.”
I scoff. “Vanilla? You do realize you’re reading my alien smut, right?”
“That doesn’t mean you are kinky. Maybe you just like reading about it.”
“You know what, I’m not even going to defend myself. I have my own kinks. They may not be BDSM style kinks, but I have them.” I shake my head, dunking a wine glass into the sudsy water. I watch it fill up before I stick the sponge inside and wipe it clean.
“The weather has been nice,” she blurts, changing the conversation with the grace of a rhinoceros in a glass shop.
“Yeah. Fall is only a few months off,” I say, taking the hint. Talking about sex is probably crossing the line. Weather is safe. There’s nothing sexual about weather.
“I love sitting by the pool and sunbathing.”
I lied. Images of Reagan in an itsy-bitsy bikini flash through my mind. Frowning, I scrub the next plate. “We have a pool.”
“I know, I saw it when I was in the gym. I left my suit at my apartment. I didn’t think I’d need it.” She takes the glass.
