He seals those words with a kiss.
And fuck me.
My body has never felt like it was at the edge of bliss from a single point of contact. His lips are warm and firm and taste like mint and the faintest trace of coffee, pressing against mine with a control that is both gentle and deliberate. The kiss starts slow. Testing. A question asked with mouths instead of words, and my answer comes without a single conscious thought.
I press back.
My lips meet his movements with a firmness that surprises me, matching his rhythm and then pushing it forward. The control he started with dissolves. What begins as careful exploration progresses into a desperation that builds with every second, his lips moving against mine with increasing urgency, his breath growing ragged against my skin.
He groans.
The sound reverberates against my mouth, vibrating through the kiss and settling in the base of my spine. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, his palm warm and rough with calluses, his fingers threading into the damp hair at my temple. The grip tilts my face, angling me exactly where he wants me, and I let him. I dare to let this Alpha I have known for less than ten minutes control the way he kisses me, because his mouth feels like the answer to a question I did not know my body had been asking.
The kiss deepens. His tongue grazes my lower lip and I part for him instinctively, a small sound escaping my throat that is embarrassingly close to a whimper. His fingers tighten in my hair, his other hand finding my hip through the jersey, and for a moment that stretches into infinity, nothing exists except his mouth and my mouth and the electricity that is arcing between us in waves.
We break apart gasping.
Foreheads pressed together. Breathing ragged. Staring into each other's eyes from a distance of approximately two inches, close enough that his features blur and all I can see are the silver flecks in the gray that is now dark as a storm cloud.
Is this reaction normal?
Is this what a scent match does? Does it bypass every rational filter and turn a grown woman into a trembling mess from a single kiss? Or did the crash make me fucking delusionaland I am currently hallucinating this entire exchange on the nurse's bed while unconscious on the ice?
Because his scent alone makes me want to give up every plan I had. The five-week arrangement. The keeping-my-distance strategy. The independence I have fought to maintain since the day my parents told me I was a disgrace. All of it feels negotiable if it means he will kiss me like that again.
I do not even know if he has a pack.
He trails his thumb along my bottom lip, the touch so light it might be imagined. His eyes follow the movement, watching his own finger trace the swollen curve of skin he just bruised with his mouth.
"The first Omega to tickle my senses," he murmurs, more to himself than to me. "Intriguing."
I huff, grasping at the last shreds of my composure.
"Do not get confident with yours..."
He seals my lips again.
This kiss is softer. Slower. A gentleness that contrasts the raw hunger of the first, his lips moving against mine with a tenderness that makes my chest ache in a way I did not know a kiss could produce. His hand cradles my jaw, his thumb stroking the curve of my cheekbone, and a moan escapes my mouth before I can stop it.
A real, audible, deeply embarrassing moan that vibrates against his lips and makes him smile into the kiss.
I feel too relaxed. Too safe. Too at ease with a man I met seven minutes ago, in a nurse's office, behind a curtain, with a busted knee and a jersey that belongs to another Alpha and a helmet's absence from a third.
This is insane. This is completely, certifiably insane. And I do not want it to stop.
When we break apart this time, his breathing is heavier. The composure he wore like armor when he carried me through thehallway has cracked, revealing glimpses of the man beneath the polish. His lips are slightly swollen. His gray eyes carry a heat that makes me forget how to form sentences.
"Your scent is going to be a problem," he mutters.
I huff.
"That is not a way to compliment anyone. You just kissed me twice and your follow-up is that I am a problem?"
He smirks, the expression so identical to Rafe's that it sends a weird pang through my chest.
"I suppose you are right. Let me rephrase." He tilts his head, studying me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. "I was more intrigued by the way you destroyed my brother on the ice. A race against a hockey captain, and you won without breaking a sweat. That is not an Omega who needs protection. That is an Omega who needs an audience."
I blush, the warmth spreading through my cheeks anew.
