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“It’s not—” He makes a disgruntled sound, taking a sudden swig from his glass and swallowing it forcefully before shaking his head. “It’s not because I don’t want to.”
I turn more to my side to face him, leaning on my elbow as I let it rest against the back of the couch. “Could have fooled me.”
“I think we both know by the state you left me in on that deck that I very much want to,” he says more quietly. He takes another swig, for courage, maybe. “I worry.”
I frown. “Worry?”
“I know you’re a grown woman, I know that, but... neither of us fully understands the implications of what we’re doing here. We haven’t ever experienced... something like this.”
My mouth makes an O shape. “So, you’ve never...?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
I let that knowledge settle, considering all the things that come with it as I take a larger sip from my glass this time. Everything he’s saying makes sense, and there is a part of me that wonders if Iambeing reckless. No one’s ever accused me of being overly careful inmy life, that’s for sure, but still... I can’t bring myself to change my mind. Not after the all-over pleasure I’d felt just fromkissinghim. A girl can only withstand so much, really.
“Your apartment is nice,” Noah says in what I suspect is an attempt to break the silence. “Cozy.”
“You mean it’s small,” I laugh.
He glances around my studio, his eyes moving from the kitchen behind the couch to the bed that sits on a platform to our left. “No, no, I just meant...”
“It’s fine,” I assure him. “I’ve never liked big houses.” I frown into my glass then. “Too much space.”
“What’s wrong with space?”
A familiar melancholy settles in the back of my mind, a brief glimpse of my dad’s face leaving our house for the last time flashing through my thoughts. I quickly shake it away as I take another swallow of wine. “Just feels lonely, I guess.”
“Oh.”
More silence. Noah isn’t looking at me, eyes transfixed on my carpet again as he holds his glass against his chest like some sort of tiny security blanket. My glass is nearly empty now, I realize, and the warmth the wine leaves in my belly is giving me that same courage Noah might have been chasing.
“So, if you’ve never been with an omega,” I try carefully, watching his jaw tense, “does that mean you’ve never knotted anyone?”
His knuckles go white against the wineglass in his hand, and for a moment I think he could almost break it in his grip. It’s subtle, the change in him, but with that one word I can sense the slight increase of his breathing, the ragged quality of it. It makes my heart pound a little faster, sets off a tingling between my legs.
And hisscent.
It might as well be a wax melt, with the way it’s filling the room.
“No,” he says quietly, almost hoarsely. “I haven’t.”
I finish my glass with one quick tilt—reaching to set it on my coffee table as I slowly scoot closer to him. I can feel the warmth of him when my body presses to his side, feel the slight trembling in his skin when my fingers graze over his forearm. It makes me feel strangely powerful, knowing I can make this big alpha shake like this. I pluck his glass away to set it by mine, bringing my hand to his chest to tease at a button there, my mouth inches from his jaw.
“Would you like to?”
This close I can see the subtle flecks of green hidden in the clear blue of his irises, the discovery short-lived with the way his pupils continue to dilate to a point where his eyes almost appear black. His heart is pounding so hard I can feel it against my fingers, and at this point, its cadence more than matches mine.
I like the way that his breath catches when I lean into him, the way his hand settles at my waist as if by instinct (and well, I guess it is, if I took the time to really think about it) when I situate myself so that my knees press on either side of his hips, straddling his lap. Already I can feel the press of a hardsomethingagainst my core when I settle there, and I find I like this too.
“Mackenzie,” he says roughly, his voice seeming to have dropped an octave. “Are you sure that you want to—?”
I catch the rest of his sentence at my lips, kissing him gently as his continued attempts to be chivalrous fade into a soft groan. He really does talk too much, for someone whose preferred form of communication I’d previously thought was scowling. On any other day, I might celebrate a man being so decent—but it’s been at least a year since I’ve been past second base, and right now I am wanting Noah to be entirelyindecent.
There’s a bit of a bite of his nails as they press into the softness of my hips, a slight sting that I can feel even through the material of my dress. His lips part immediately when I urge them to with my tongue, and the taste of him when I deepen the kiss might be more dizzying than an entire bottle of the forgotten wine on my kitchen counter.
I don’t mean to rock into him; my body seems to have some sort of unconscious need to be closer, but the feel of his cock slotted against me, rigid and hot, seems to undo him. I feel his fingers in my hair, winding around the length of it to fist it tight so that he can pull me in, and then there is the shape of one large hand on my ass that grips me in a way that is anything but decent.
Yes,I think.This is what I want.
