I nod, not trusting my voice.
He reaches around to unhook my bra with practiced ease and slides it off. Cool air hits my skin and my nipples tighten. Another wave of slick makes my thighs slippery.
"Beautiful," he murmurs. "Absolutely beautiful." The purr in his chest is constant now, an alpha's instinctive response to his omega's arousal. "And you smell incredible. Like cinnamon and apples and pure want."
Then his mouth is on me and coherent thought becomes impossible. He's thorough, almost methodical, like he's learningexactly what I like. When he does that thing with his tongue, I arch up with a gasp.
"There?" he asks, sounding smug.
"Yes—there—don't stop?—"
He doesn't. He's relentless, building me higher and higher until I'm shaking.
"Grayson, I need?—"
"I know what you need, baby." His hand slides down to cup me through my jeans. "Going to give you everything."
Chapter 14
Grayson
I'm trying very hard not to completely lose my shit.
Bea is in my studio. On my desk. Half-naked and panting my name. Her scent is everywhere—cinnamon and apples and that sweet slick that's driving my alpha absolutely insane.
And she just told me she's tired of keeping her wants small. That she wants this—wants us—and she's done apologizing for it.
Fuck, that's hot.
I've been holding back for weeks. Watching Seth get to kiss her, watching River scent her at the Tree Lighting. Being the patient one, the one who waits his turn, because that's what pack alphas do. We don't compete. We support each other.
But listening to her talk about that asshole ex who made her feel like wanting things was selfish? Who spent two years dismissing her dreams?
That makes me want to prove to her that not all alphas are like that. That we listen. That her wants matter just as much as ours.
"Bed," I manage, my voice rougher than I intended. "Should move to the bed."
"Too far." Her hands are already fumbling with my belt, clumsy with want. "Here is good. Here is perfect."
The desperate need in her movements makes my knot throb. I catch her hands—gently, but firmly enough to get her attention.
"Bea—" I hold her hands. "Slow down for a second."
"Don't want to slow down." She looks up at me with those green eyes, pupils blown wide with arousal. "Want you. Want this. Please, Grayson."
Fuck. How is a man supposed to resist that?
But she deserves better than getting fucked on a desk for our first time. She deserves to feel like she matters. Like her pleasure is just as important as mine.
"Okay." I take a breath, trying to find some semblance of control. "But we're doing this properly. Not on a desk."
"You're very particular."
"I'm very turned on and trying not to embarrass myself." I scoop her up and she squeaks. "Hold on."
I carry her through the doorway into my apartment—which is really just an open loft space with a bed and a small kitchen. The bed is unmade because I wasn't expecting company, but Bea doesn't seem to care as I lay her down on the dark sheets.
"This is better," I say, settling over her. "More room to work."
