I buck up, the angle grinding her clit against my base. My knot balloons fuller, pressing against her entrance through the barrier, as I grip her hips.
“Ride me, please. Take every inch.”
She’s a vision with her wild hair whippin and her lips parted, chasing her peak. I need to knot, to lock inside her.
“Come again, Omega. Squeeze me until I fill you.”
Her pace stutters, then she crests, pussy rippling in waves that drag me under. I thrust upward, knot swelling to lock, pulsing as I erupt, come jetting hot into the condom in thick ropes.
She collapses forward, biting my shoulder to muffle her wail, our bodies fused in shuddering aftershocks.
We pant in unison, her weight a welcome anchor on my chest as we remain on the floor, slick and sated.
My arms band around her, Alpha instincts purring at the closeness, her scent embedding in my skin.
I kiss her temple, murmuring, “I’m sorry, Norah. For abandoning you. For the pain.”
She lifts her head, eyes soft yet guarded. “Just tonight,” she says firmly. “No promises beyond this.”
But the way her fingers trace my tattoo sends shivers down to my cock.
My heart twists, but I nod. “Just tonight,” I echo, throat tight, pulling her into a kiss.
The chill creeps back eventually, prompting us to get up and head to her bedroom. She curls into my side, head on my chest, my fingers idly stroking her back as sleep tugs.
Outside, snow falls relentlessly, but here, warmth holds.
Just tonight.
For now, it’s enough.
I’ll show her more tomorrow, if she’ll let me.
She’s still asleep, curled against me, her breath slow and steady.
I trace a fingertip along the slope of her shoulder, the freckles scattered like constellations. The rise and fall of her breathing steadies something in me I hadn’t realized was trembling.
Fuck, I’ve missed this. Not just the heat or the noise or the chaos of wanting, but the quiet after. The weight of someone against me.
The proof that I’m still capable of warmth.
It’s almost five. The clock on the bedside table ticks, soft and accusing. I’ve got a conference call at seven with the London office, and there’s no chance I’ll make it if I stay here.
I watch her for another minute. Her hair is messy and wild, one hand tucked beneath her chin, her mouth parted just enough for a sigh to escape.
She looks younger in sleep. Softer. Like the version of her I never stopped seeing.
Carefully, I ease away. She murmurs something unintelligible, shifting closer to the spot where I’d been, chasing the warmth.
I stand there for a beat, just looking. The room smells of her—lavender and something sweet. It’s on my skin, in my lungs, everywhere.
I head downstairs and get dressed. In the kitchen, I find a pen and the back of a grocery receipt.
Didn’t want to wake you. You should rest. The hall looked incredible tonight. You did, too. I’ll call later, if that’s okay.
—D
I fold it once and tuck it into the corner of her fridge door, under a magnet shaped like a fox. It looks small there, out of place, like everything I do lately.
