I became suddenly, acutely aware of how close we were. His bare chest against mine, separated only by the thin cotton of mysleep shirt—I could feel the coarse hair of his chest through the fabric, the heat of his skin seeping into my breasts. His hands on my face, warm and calloused, rough against my soft cheeks. His scent surrounding me, making my head spin and my body feel heavy and warm. The way his eyes had darkened, his pupils blown wide in the dim light, swallowing the brown until they were nearly black.
"Aster." His voice was rough, strained, his breath warm against my lips, barely an inch away, close enough that I could almost taste him. "I should take you back to your room. Or the couch. Somewhere that isn't—" He stopped, swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "I'm trying to be good here. Trying to do the right thing. But you're in my arms, and you smell like—" He groaned, his eyes squeezing shut, pain and longing warring across his weathered features. "You need to tell me to stop."
"What if I don't want you to stop?" The words came out before I could think better of them, soft and trembling but certain, surprising us both, my heart hammering against my ribs. His eyes flew open, dark and searching, his whole body going still against mine, tension thrumming through every muscle.
"You just had a nightmare." His voice was strained, his thumbs still stroking my cheeks, his touch gentle despite the tension coiled in his body like a spring. "You're upset. Vulnerable. I won't take advantage of that. I won't be like—" He stopped himself, his jaw clenching, but I knew what he meant. He wouldn't be like them. Like the men who had hurt me.
"You're not taking advantage." I turned my head and pressed a kiss to his palm, feeling the calluses rough against my lips, tasting salt and something that was purely him, feeling him shudder, feeling his control crack just a little, hearing the sharp intake of his breath. "I came to you because you make me feelsafe. And right now, I don't want to think about the nightmare. I don't want to think about the past." I met his eyes, letting him see the truth in mine, letting him see that this was real, that I was choosing this. "I want to feel something good. I want you to make me feel good. Please, Reid."
"Aster." My name came out broken, reverent, his resolve crumbling like a wall under siege, his dark eyes bright with something that looked almost like tears, his voice cracking on the two syllables. "Are you sure? We can wait. I can just hold you. That's enough. That's more than enough."
"I'm sure." I rose up on my toes and pressed my lips to his—soft, tentative, a question more than a demand. He tasted like sleep and something richer, darker, and I wanted more. His lips were warm and slightly chapped, firm against mine. "I'm choosing this. Choosing you. Not because of the nightmare. Because I want you. I've wanted you for weeks. I've just been too scared to do anything about it."
Something broke in his expression—wonder, relief, hunger all tangled together—and then he was kissing me back. The kiss was gentle at first, careful, his lips soft and warm against mine as he gave me time to change my mind. I could taste coffee on his breath, something sweet beneath it. But when I made a small sound and pressed closer, my hands sliding up his bare chest to wrap around his neck, feeling the heat of his skin beneath my palms, the coarse hair tickling my fingers, something in him shifted. The kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against mine, hot and slick and demanding, tasting every corner of my mouth. His hands slid from my face to my waist, fingers digging into my hips hard enough to bruise, pulling me flush against his body until there was no space left between us.
He was warm everywhere we touched, solid and strong, his skin smooth over hard muscle. I could feel his heart pounding against my chest, could feel the coarse hair of his chest againstmy thin shirt, could feel the rumble building in his throat—that low, vibrating purr that Alphas made when they were content, when they had their Omega close. The sound vibrated through me, settling into my bones, chasing away the last lingering shadows of the nightmare, making something deep in my core clench with need, making slick start to gather between my thighs.
"Tell me if you want to stop." He pulled back just enough to speak, his lips brushing mine with every word, his breath ragged and hot against my mouth, his eyes searching mine for any sign of hesitation. "Any time. Any reason. We stop. No questions."
"I don't want to stop." I kissed him again, tasting him, learning the shape of his mouth, the way his lower lip was fuller than the top, the way he groaned when I sucked it between my teeth. "I want more. I want to feel you. I want?—"
"Tell me." His voice was rough velvet, his hands sliding under my sleep shirt, palms hot against the bare skin of my back, making me gasp at the contact, at the rough texture of his calluses against my smooth skin. "Tell me what you want, sweetheart."
"I want you to make me forget." The words came out raw, honest, scraped up from somewhere deep inside me, my voice trembling. "I want you to replace those memories with something good. Something that's just ours."
A sound escaped him—low, rough, almost pained—and his control shattered completely. His hands found the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head in one smooth motion, tossing it somewhere into the darkness. The cool air hit my bare skin, making goosebumps rise across my flesh, tightening my nipples into hard peaks. But I didn't have time to feel self-conscious before his eyes were on me, dark and hungry and awed, roaming over every inch of exposed skin like he was memorizing me.
"Beautiful." His voice cracked on the word, his hands hovering at his sides like he was afraid to touch, like I might break or vanish if he did, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. "God, Aster, you're so beautiful. Do you have any idea what you do to me?"
"Touch me." It came out half request, half plea, my voice barely recognizable, desperate and needy in a way I'd never been before, my skin aching for the feel of his hands. "Please, Reid. I need to feel your hands on me."
He groaned, low and desperate, the sound vibrating through the air between us, and then his hands were on me—sliding up my sides, the rough calluses dragging against my smooth skin, cupping my breasts, his palms hot and rough against my sensitive flesh. The texture of his work-roughened hands against my soft skin made me gasp, the contrast sending sparks shooting through my veins, straight to my core where I was growing wetter by the second. His thumbs brushed over my nipples, circling the hardened peaks, and I cried out, arching into his touch, my head falling back, pleasure rippling through me.
"So responsive." His voice was rough against my ear, his breath hot, making goosebumps rise across my skin despite the heat flooding through me, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "So sensitive. Love watching you react. Love those little sounds you make. Want to hear all of them."
His mouth followed his hands, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my throat—I could feel the wet slide of his tongue, the scrape of his teeth, the suction of his lips marking my skin. He moved across my collarbone, tasting my skin along the way, his tongue tracing the ridge of bone. When his lips closed around my nipple, the wet heat of his mouth made me cry out, my hands flying to his hair, gripping the dark strands hard enough that it must have hurt. He sucked gently at first, then harder, his tongue flicking against the sensitive peak, swirling around it,and pleasure shot straight to my core, making me clench around nothing, making more slick gush between my thighs.
"Reid—" His name came out strangled, broken, my fingers tightening in his hair, my hips rolling against nothing, desperate for friction. He switched to the other breast, giving it the same lavish attention, his tongue swirling, his teeth grazing just hard enough to make me gasp and jerk against him. One hand came up to play with the nipple his mouth had abandoned, rolling it between his fingers, pinching gently, tugging until I whimpered, and I was overwhelmed—too much sensation, too much pleasure, my body trembling with it, my legs threatening to give out.
"Bed." He murmured against my skin, his voice muffled, his breath hot and damp against my breast, his hands gripping my hips to steady me when my knees buckled. "Let me lay you down. Let me take care of you properly."
I nodded, unable to form words, my brain short-circuiting from pleasure, and he lifted me easily—one arm under my knees, one behind my back—carrying me like I weighed nothing, cradling me against his warm chest. I could feel his heartbeat against my side, fast and strong. He laid me down on the dark sheets—soft cotton, cool against my heated skin, a delicious contrast—like something precious, something fragile. Then he stood at the edge of the bed just looking at me, his chest heaving with ragged breaths, his skin flushed, his eyes dark with want.
"You're sure?" One more check, one more chance to stop, his voice strained with the effort of holding back, his hands clenched at his sides, even as I could see how much this restraint was costing him—the tension in his jaw, the cords standing out in his neck.
"I'm sure." I reached for him, making grabbing motions with my hands, needy and desperate. "Please, Reid. I need you."
He came willingly, settling beside me on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, his hand cupping my face, his palm warm and rough against my cheek. His thumb traced my lower lip, dipping inside to feel the wetness there, and I tasted the salt of his skin. When I sucked his thumb into my mouth instinctively, swirling my tongue around it, tasting salt and skin and something that was purely him, his eyes rolled back and a groan tore from his chest, his hips jerking involuntarily.
He kissed me deep and thorough, his tongue sliding against mine, exploring every corner of my mouth, and I could feel his desire pressing against my thigh through his pajama pants—hard and thick and straining against the fabric. The heat of him burned through the thin cotton. He didn't push for more. Just kissed me until I was dizzy with it, until my whole body was humming with need, until the nightmare felt like it had happened to someone else, in another lifetime.
His mouth trailed lower, worshipping my breasts until I was writhing beneath him, my hips rolling against nothing, desperate for friction, desperate for relief, the sheets growing damp beneath me from my slick.
"Reid—" His name came out broken, desperate, my voice cracking. "Please—I need—more?—"
"I know what you need, sweetheart." His voice was a growl against my stomach, his lips trailing lower, his stubble rough against my soft skin, leaving pink marks in his wake that I knew I'd feel tomorrow. His tongue traced a wet path down my belly, dipping into my navel, making me squirm. "I can smell it. God, the scent of you—sweetest thing I've ever smelled. Like honey and wildflowers and something that's just you. Making my mouth water."
His fingers hooked in the waistband of my sleep shorts, and he paused, looking up at me with dark eyes, his face hovering inches from my core, waiting for permission even now.
