Page 58 of Knot So Social

Her chest rises with a puff. “Flatterer.”

“Guilty,” I say with a grin. “Want to lick the spatula?” I offer it to her, thick with hummus.

She takes it and wipes the tip off with her bread. Of course my mind dives straight for the gutter and other things we’ll be wiping soon enough, but the last thing we should do is rush. Besides, this is nice, getting to know each other like this.

Five minutes later, the sausages are done and I cut them into long strips. Willow feeds the very well-mannered Mr Shares a piece of the meat while I assemble the lengths in the pita next to the salad ingredients. A handful of cheese goes on top, and then I roll them up, using spare lengths of cucumber to wrap around the outside, forming what looks like a bow.

“Ta-da!” I spin the plate around and slide it across the bench to her.

“And you think that’s not fancy?” she asks, brows arching.

I chuckle and perch on the bar stool next to her.

“You left out the hummus,” she says, pointing to the ceramic bowl piled with pale gold goodness.

“Nope. You dip the end of your wrap in it.” I draw the food across the bench. “Oh, I only made one bowl. Do you mind double dipping?”

She looks at me as if to ask am I serious. Well, I suppose I’m literally employed to be double dipping in her body.

I snort and slide the hummus her way. “Ladies first.”

Willow picks up her wrap, hands small around the big pita roll. Lovely hands, capped with manicured nails in a pale pink shade.

“Here goes,” she says, dipping one end in the sauce before nibbling daintily at the lot. “Oh, my goodness. That’s amazing!”

“Right?” I laugh and tackle my own food. “And because it’s all made of long strips, the insides don’t fall out easily.” Right as I say it, a piece of my sausage slithers free and plops into the hummus. “Usually,” I mutter, fishing the rebel out.

Willow snorts and then laughs. Suddenly she chokes, dropping her food onto her plate and gasping around her laughter.

“Oh, shit. You okay?” I ask.

What if she can’t breathe? I’ll need to call 911, and—what are my emergency protocol steps?

“Yes,” she gasps, spluttering. “That was perfect. Couldn’t have been timed better.”

When she coughs again, I pat her back. Willow rasps and chuckles, massaging her clavicle. A speck of cheese sits on her lip, and I lean in and run my thumb over her skin to peel it away.

Her brilliant blue eyes widen, and her pupils dilate, full of omega delight. An eager quiver runs through my body.

“Willow,” I murmur, leaning closer. Still stroking her lip.

“Jeremy?” she whispers.

“May I kiss you?”

A pulse jumps in her delicate throat. So lovely, so vulnerable. Silent, she nods, brushing her silky skin against my palm.

I lean in, and her jasmine scent explodes.

Chapter eighteen

Willow

Jeremy hovers, breath misting mine, our mouths a hair-width apart. Waiting for me to come to him. My belly heats as I close the distance.

From the moment he entered the house, that scent of his lingered in my nose, every inhale drawing it deeper inside to a place that feasts on the alpha musk. Green, living and herb-laden, like a farmers’ market garden. A scent I’ve almost forgotten after so many years house-bound.

Breathing it this close makes me soak through my panties in one hit.