“No, we don’t really have that kind of relationship.” Though it sounds like he wants to.
“But there’s going to be other alphas there?” I ask roughly. There’s no way Luke could be in the same room as alphas when they are in rut, and they wouldn’t want to fuck him. It’s not only that he looks good. It’s his energy, his smile, the way he speaks and scolds me, and laughs.
I hate it. I don’t want Luke near any alphas in rut unless it’s me.
The realization thunders through me as Luke keeps talking. He’s waving his hands around and chattering as he tries to explain, but the words aren’t going in because I’m too busy whirring around in my own head.
I want to tell him that he can’t go near anyone else without my permission and that he has to stay here. A burning possessiveness nearly has me growling at the thought of Luke leaving my house to fuck other alphas. Even if he doesn’t fuck them, even if he just sits by and brings them water and food and takes care of them, he’d still watch them. He’s shown me already how free he can be with his body—why would he limit himself to one older alpha?
I grit my jaw to stop the jealousy rising, but I can’t help it.
Somewhere along the way, through all the growling and snarling and trying to keep him away from me because of the feelings he brings up, I’ve begun to see Luke as mine. It stopped being an irritating attraction, and it’s turned into something deeper, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do about it.
Yeah, I’ve imagined what he would be like when he fucks. That’s natural when you like someone, right? But now my thoughts are drifting towards a pack, and I need to stop them right there.
I haven’t even noticed he’s taken another drink from his massive glass of hot chocolate. I’m so wrapped up in my own thoughts that it’s only when my gaze explores his face, feeding the hunger that swells up inside me, that I notice it.
A drop of hot chocolate beads at the corner of his lips. And I can’t help but reach out, sweeping it away with my thumb.
I love the way his breath catches and how he freezes under my touch. Heat dances between us, and I don’t imagine it when the tension returns.
Now’s my chance. All I have to do is lean forward and go for it.
I lift my thumb to my lip, sucking on the end to clean it off, and my eyes widen as I meet Luke’s hungry gaze.
A shudder burns through me. Because it’s there again, that taste, that distant wisp of maple syrup I can’t ever forget. It’s so slight I would have missed it if I weren’t completely tuned to it by now.
“Did you put maple syrup in this?” I ask , my voice growing deep with need. Even the smallest taste winds me up.
There’s another second pause before his grin returns.
“I sure did. You finally found my secret ingredient.”
As I suck harder on my thumb, his eyes spark, and the heat that only flares up around him burns through me.
I’ve asked him to add that flavor to everything he makes, but he’s kept telling me he can’t. I thought he was hiding it from me because of how creepy I sounded when I moaned the last time I tasted it. Or because it somehow came from his sister.
Luke shuffles his hips as I lean in. I want to put my hand on his chest and see if his heart beats as strongly as mine.
His fingers twitch around the remote, his breath stutters, and I want to think it’s because of me. I need to find out how much maple syrup is in his hot chocolate without making it obvious how it’s winding me up.
The moment is building, and the tension that’s always rising and falling between us grows even stronger. I need to do something, or I’m going to lose my chance. Even if I break what’s been growing between us, I can’t take not knowing how he feels about me.
Whether his sister tastes of maple syrup or not, it’s the person staring up at me, his eyes widening, his lips parting as his head tilts back; he’s the one I want right now.
I start to move closer, pressing one arm into the couch by his thigh so I can lift myself up and finally kiss him.
Until the leather of the couch creaks, and Luke suddenly jerks. He gasps, pulling away, and the air cracks.
There’s a second where we stare at each other, the potential humming between us. But he twists away, slamming down a wall.
“Come on. I think we need something more relaxing. Let’s carry on with the movie,” he says with a light grin that doesn’t reach his eyes.
My heart tumbles because I’m too nervous to tell him to come back. If I had just reached for him and made him face me and my feelings…
I keep staring, keep waiting, but the moment escapes us.
He starts the film, throwing himself onto the couch, near enough so that all I can sense is his body heat. He folds his arms as if he’s telling me to stop.
