“No.”
The single word is practically a growl. It vibrates through me, sinking into my very soul.
“I’m not wanting to take you out so I can fuck you and then never interact again.” I perfume again at his blatant language. “I can have that with a hundred different partners any time I want, food not required. You’re my scent match, my soulmate. There’s nothing temporary about what I want with you.”
Lemongrass weaves around me like it’s a caress in its own right. I can’t help but relax into the smell, the tension slowlydropping away from my body. He hums as he feels it, taking a step closer. I try to find my rationality from wherever it’s gone.
“Dad…” His scent flares, tinged with irritation. I swallow. “Ares will be furious.”
“And I don’t care,” he says, totally calm again even with his scent spiking.
“Well, I do,” I admit. He frowns, but I keep talking. My own scent slowly sours with my nerves and worry. “He’ll make your life a nightmare for the rest of your contract if he finds out you’re dating me. And that doesn’t include everyone else who will be all over you about it. I’ve seen what the think pieces are saying about the Scorpions. The last thing you need is the media jumping all over a scandal like what this would cause.”
“Let it be a scandal then,” he says, entirely calm. He inches closer, his thighs pressing into mine, his hips wedging against my belly.
I shake my head. “I can’t let you risk that.”
He breathes in, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he clenches it. He sets his palms on the work table, deliberately caging me in. It should feel intimidating, but instead a rush of slick coats my thighs and my scent grows stronger. My knees wobble at the sudden wave of desire. His lips flatten as the silence stretches between us. God, I need to feel those lips again. Need to have his scent all over my clothes so I can stash them away in my room for when the nights are just a bit too long and lonely.
“Okay,” he whispers.
He pushes away from me, his arms dropping back to his sides, cold air replacing all the points where his body touches mine. My stomach drops.
I talk without thinking it through.
“What if we keep it a secret?” I ask.
He stills, his entire body focusing back on me.
“Just… just until it won’t be such a circus with the media.” My pitch rises, betraying my nerves anew. His gaze bores into me. My knees wobble again, the entirely foreign desire to make him happy washing through me. I swallow back an inelegant sound. “Until I can pay my dad back for helping me open this shop so I don’t feel like I’m… I don’t know, betraying his faith in me.”
His eyes blaze at that, his jaw tightening again.
“A secret,” he says without any inflection at all.
I press my hands into my belly again. “Yes.”
There’s a horrid stretch of silence, only the quiet purr of the coolers’ motors filling the space. I want to crawl under the table.
“For you, I’ll do it,” he says. The croon in the words sinks into my very soul. “If it’s what you want, I’ll keep you secret.”
“Just—just for a few months. If your season turns around, and Dad’s not so on edge… I think maybe I can tell him in a way where he won’t immediately want to kill you.”
“All right,” he agrees.
Then he steps back into me, his palms caressing my cheeks. His lips are the same juxtaposition they were on Halloween. Hard and soft, demanding and patient all at once. I melt into him, wrapping my hands around his neck. He grunts, the sound—above anything else—smug and satisfied. Our scents intertwine, overpowering the purifier that’s still running in the corner.
After a minute, he sucks on my lower lip then trails kisses along my jaw and behind my ear. He pulls the skin between his teeth, and I shiver against him. That primal voice screams inside of me, begging me to let him bite me in truth.
Claim.Surrender.Knot.
I groan, entirely overwhelmed, and he smiles against my skin. He wraps an arm around my waist and lifts me onto the table, carefully wedging himself between my knees. He movesslowly enough I could tell him to stop, but just the thought has both my mind and my heart freaking out.
His hands trail over my arms and down my sides before caging me in, his arms taut. With casual ease, he pushes my hips right to the edge of the table, wedging the hard length of him against my pussy. Even with two layers of denim between us, it’s so hot, so tempting. My entire body tightens, my pulse beating in my clit like I’ve been using my vibrator. I can’t breathe, can’t form words. He kisses along the line of my throat, each press of his lips only tightening my body like a top. I’m going to spin out of control in only a few minutes if he doesn’t do something to release all of this pressure.
“I still need to taste you,” he admits against my skin. I sneak my hands under his hoodie and shirt, needing to feel his skin. “It’s all I’ve dreamed about since that club.”
“Really?” The question comes out too innocent, too inexperienced, but I don’t have it in me to worry about his reaction. Not when his fingers are twisting into the waistband of my jeans and his teeth are carefully pulling my shirt off of my shoulder.
