Page 16

His fork stops against the plate and his eyes come up to mine.

“I mean the sex, the knot, me touching you while the spike was happening. Do you regret any of it?”

Orion chews what’s already in his mouth, swallows, and sets the fork down. “No. I don’t regret it.”

“All right.” I take another drink of coffee, and he keeps watching me over the table.

“You’re not going to ask anything else?”

“Not unless you want to talk about it.” I set the mug down. “I needed to know you didn’t wake up wishing I’d kept my hands off you. You said you don’t, so I believe you.”

His grip loosens around the fork. A moment later he reaches across the table, catches the front of my shirt, and pulls me toward him hard enough that my palm lands beside his plate. His mouth finds mine over the mess of breakfast, warm and demanding, with my fingers sliding into his hair as he presses closer instead of pulling away.

Orion kisses like he means to keep doing it until one of us has to breathe. His teeth catch my lower lip as his hand tightens behind my neck, the sheet at his waist loosening while he leans farther across the table. I’m halfway out of my chair, already thinking about the counter when the smell of burning eggs reaches both of us.

“Fuck.” I pull away and turn for the stove, killing the burner while smoke curls off the pan.

Orion laughs behind me, rough enough that I glance over my shoulder. He clamps his mouth shut the second he catches me looking.

“Don’t say anything.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You’re smiling.”

“Because you nearly made me burn breakfast.” I scrape the salvageable eggs onto a plate and carry them back to the table. “You can laugh at me after you eat what survived.”

He takes the plate without arguing, though his mouth keeps threatening another smile while he eats. I leave it alone, mostly because the first laugh came out when he wasn’t guarding it and I don’t want to make him regret giving me the second one.

By early afternoon, Orion can’t stay settled. He moves from the couch to the window, back to the kitchen, then across the living room again while I hold my place in the book, watching him over the top edge. On the next pass, fur pushes through over his arms and shoulders, his hands widening into paws as the bear rolls through him. The shift is controlled, but he keeps pacing once it’s finished, claws ticking over the floorboards each time he crosses the room.

I fold the book closed over my thumb and rest it against my thigh. “You’ve been walking the same path for the last ten minutes. What’s bothering you?”

One ear turns toward me, but he keeps moving. He reaches the coffee table, circles it, then stops with his head angled toward the window.

“You don’t have to stay in that form if it isn’t helping.”

The bear turns back toward me as the change starts on the rug. Paws narrow into hands, fur receding over his shoulders and spine while his body draws inward until Orion is crouched naked with both palms braced on the floor. He breathes through the last of it, then sits back on his heels, dragging his hands over his face.

“I can hear everything today,” he says. “Every person outside, every door, every fucking footstep. I can’t get comfortable.”

I set the book beside me. “Do you want me closer, or would that make it worse?”

His eyes shift toward the window again. “I don’t know. I just don’t want you somewhere else.”

“Then I’m staying right here.” I lean back into the couch and leave the space in front of me open. “You can come over here if you want me closer.”

Orion stands and crosses the rug, stopping between my knees with both hands on my thighs. He stays there long enough that I can feel the heat of his palms through my pants, then one hand slides higher until his thumb hooks under my belt. His scent changes with the movement, sweeter than it was a few seconds ago.

I put my hand over his without holding it down. “You want me?”

He lifts his eyes to mine. “Yes. I came over here because I want you.”

“Then come closer.”

Orion opens my belt and pushes my zipper down, getting his hand around me as soon as there’s room. The first stroke is slow, his thumb dragging over the head as my stomach tightens and Alpha scent thickens around us. His nostrils flare when he catches it, the Omega sweetness in his own scent deepening in answer.

“Put your hand in my hair,” he says.