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Or am I imagining things?
Am I so desperate for attention, I’m making things out to be more than they are?
“Uh, okay. What are we making?”
“You’re making eggs and toast.”
I scoff. “I can make eggs and toast.”
“Good. Show me.”
Grumbling about demanding alphas, I roll my eyes and join him at the counter. Everything I need is already laid out. I grab the egg carton and the bowl and position myself a bit away from him so our arms don’t brush. Only, when I grab the first egg, he scoots closer. The distraction makes me mess up and get some eggshell in the bowl and hetutsas I get it out.
My hands shake when I reach for the next one, but before I can crack it, he stands behind me, arms reaching around me. That rainy scent curls around my throat and squeezes until it’s hard to breathe. As his hands mold to mine, his chest rubs against my shoulders and his cheek rests against mine.
“There’s an art to this,” he whispers, like he’s sharing something naughty. “You don’t want to be too soft, and you don’t want to be too hard.” Moving his hands, he coats my skin withhis scent before stepping even closer. My ass presses into him and my breath hitches. “Ready?” he asks.
Barely breathing, heart thundering and blood roaring through my ears, I nod, unable to speak for fear of moaning or whining or something else equally embarrassing. He feels so good. He’s so strong. His body fits perfectly with mine. I should create some space. I should tell him to stop. I should leave. I should...god, I should do anything but press back into his body.
As if hearing that thought, Austin erases the last of the space between us, effectively pinning my hips to the counter.
I gasp. “Austin?”
“This part is important, Quinn.” He’s so nonchalant, like his crotch isn’t slotted against my ass. Like his cock isn’t pushing against my glutes. “Are you listening?” he whispers into my ear, and I shudder, body rolling back against his.
He could take me right here. Fuck breakfast. Austin could move his hands to cup my pussy and discover exactly what I’m thinking. The descenting lotion and scent-wicking panties are my only saving grace. The only reason I try to shake myself out of my stupor.
“Um.” I bite my lips. “Yeah, yeah, I’m listening.”
“Good, pretty girl,” he purrs. “Now, let me show you how to do it.” And like a puppeteer pulling my strings, he uses his hands to move mine, chest rubbing over my back. One strike is all it takes. A perfect crack cuts across the shell and, together, we open it, letting the egg drop into the bowl.
Austin lowers his nose to my neck and inhales.
Stiffening, I pant as he searches and searches and searches, his breaths coasting over my skin. Mouth brushing over my neck and shoulder. His scent is everywhere, marked across my skin like little promises, but mine is nowhere to be found. My blood boils, my skin and core heating.
What is he doing to me?
This is the second time he’s tried to scent me. He’s had me pinned in one way or another before, but this time, it’s different. This time, the thickness pressing into my ass begins to harden, lengthening and pulsing and needing.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“I need to wash my hands,” I say suddenly. I need space. I need to not know what his cock feels like. I need to scrub his scent from my skin before I do something stupid, like turn around and beg him to fuck me.
He growls—legitimately growls—and a tiny squeak tumbles past my lips. That sound makes him stiffen, and his hands jump from mine. The heat from his body disappears, echoed by a curse.
“Quinn, I’m sorry.”
See? Even he knows it was a mistake.
“Uh, it’s okay,” I say with a forced laugh. “I just need to wash my hands and whisk the egg.” Pretending like nothing happened is easy for me—it’s a dance I’ve performed a thousand times—but Austin struggles to recover.
I focus on the task, adding some salt and pepper and grabbing a whisk.
“You should try some garlic powder,” Austin suggests, voice deep and husky, but his gaze is on the bowl. “It adds a lot of flavor.”
He’s slowly recovering. We can do this, we can be normal. We have to be.
Doing as he suggests, I add some garlic powder. He melts butter in the pan and silently watches me whisk the eggs.
