Page 112 of The Florist and Her Alphas

“Then we’ll bring it back,” he says. “Every flower. Every stone. I promise you.”

Back at the shop, I tip the last of the watering can over the peonies and set the can down on the counter beside the little brass bell jar. August is up front, wiping down the mahogany counter in slow, even strokes, humming something low and tuneless under his breath. He’s been beside me all afternoon since we drove back down from the property, doing the small chores I usually do myself.

Grief after visiting my family’s estate this morning still eats at me.

It has been sitting on my chest all day. It’s been there since I stood in that ruined garden with my hand on my belly, trying to imagine my family getting to meet the babies, and I don’t want to carry the grief for one more hour.

I cross the shop slowly and come up behind August at the counter, pressing my belly against the small of his back. I wrap my arms around his waist.

“You okay?” he asks, low, the words rumbling through his back into my cheek. “I can feel your sadness on you. All day.”

“I don’t want to think about the garden,” I whisper, resting my cheek against his back. “I’ve been thinking about it since this morning, and I need a break. Just one hour where my brain isn’t torturing me.” I press my face harder into his sweater. “I need you, August.”

He sets the cloth down without a word.

He turns slowly in my arms until we’re facing each other, and his soft blue eyes find mine behind his glasses, searching, and then he brings both hands up to cup my face. His thumbs sweep once, slow, across my cheekbones, gathering a wetness at the corner of my left eye I hadn’t realized was there.

Then he kisses me.

It’s deep and consuming, and I gasp into his mouth. He’s kissing me until my hands are fisted in the front of his sweater and I can barely breathe.

He turns back, grips my hips, and lifts me onto the counter.

The wood is cool under my thighs even through my jeans, and I gasp at the sudden height of it. He steps between my knees, spreads them with both palms, and runs his hands slowly up the inside of my thighs through the denim.

“Is this alright?” he asks, soft and rough at once.

I nod.

He smiles and works my jeans open, pulls them down my legs with my underwear, lifts my feet free one at a time, dropping them on the floor.

He spreads my thighs wide and looks at me for a long moment.

“Your pink little pussy is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he says. “Right here. Spread out on the counter of your own shop. Already glistening for me, my pregnant beautiful fiance. Fuck Lia.”

He lowers his mouth to me.

The first lick is slow. Long. Reverent. His tongue drags from my opening all the way up to my clit in one flat stroke, and electricity shoots up my spine so fast my head falls back against the brass bell jar behind me.

He licks me again. Sucks my clit gently between his lips.

Runs the flat of his tongue from my opening up to my clit in slow, worshipping strokes. He moans against me like he’s tasting something sacred. His hands grip my thighs, holding them open, his thumbs pressing into the soft skin there.

“You taste so good,” he groans, his breath hot against my pussy. “So fucking sweet for me.”

He works me slowly. Patiently. Sucks my clit and slides two fingers inside me at the same time, curling them up against my G-spot. I pant above him, my hands gripping the edge of the counter on either side of my hips, my knuckles white.

I come the first time within minutes.

My thighs shake and tighten around his ears. My hips lift toward his mouth. I make a sound I don’t recognize, high and broken, and he works me through it, gentling his tongue but not pulling away, lapping at the fresh wave of slick that pours out of me.

“That’s it,” he murmurs against my clit. “Let me have it all. Soak my mouth, baby. I want to drink every drop.”

He hums against my clit and the vibration makes me jerk.

“Oh God, that’s enough,” I gasp.

But he starts again. The second time takes longer. He builds me slowly. Pulls his fingers out of me and holds them up to my mouth.