“I’ve never had that before.”
“Don’t let him hear you say that. He’ll force you to drink so much of it that you’ll be buzzing around the kitchen.”
For a few minutes, it’s easy to forget the pressure that hangs between us. She’s my scent match. One in a billion. The perfect Omega for me. Most people, upon meeting their scent matches, fall into bed almost immediately. It’s a primal draw, one that’s hard to deny.
Except that can’t be us. Not with the way things have gone for us thus far.
But I am fighting the urge to grab her by the hips and pull her flush against me. I know I shouldn’t, so I won’t, but her scent is going to my head. I want to grind my cock into her, sip from her lips, feel the way her body melts as I bring her to the brink over and over.
I want to worship her with my tongue. I want to kneelat her altar and do my penance over and over until she is a sweaty, slick mess.
I want to give her all the things she fantasized about in the quiet of her room.
Oh, wonderful, I got myself all worked up. I’ve got to figure out a way to hide this raging hard-on from her before she writes me off as a gross pervert. The guy who sniffs her wrist and gets hard over coffee.
“What’s in the box?” She moves out of the kitchen into the dining room, peering into it. “Spa stuff?”
Now’s the time to decide. Should I tell her that having a spa day together is the day’s challenge? Or do I let her believe it’s just a gift, something for us to have? I don’t want her to feel pressured to do something so intimate with us.
“Yeah, I guess production thought we’d want to have something relaxing after everything that happened yesterday.”
Wait.
Wait.
Wait.
That’s a lie.
I’m lying to her.
Again.
If she finds out, even if it’s not until the show airs, it’ll ruin everything that I’m trying to do. She will never trust me if she believes everything that comes out of my mouth is a lie.
“They said it’s today’s challenge. We have to use all of it, as a group, to get a reward.” I take the letter from my pocket and hand it to her. “But I don’t expect you to want to do something so intimate with us. I think it’s shitty that the producers are asking that of us.” I look up into the camera in the corner, scowling. “You hear me? You’reasking her to put herself into a vulnerable position with us when she’s not ready. Not cool.”
She rests her hand on my shoulder. “Defending my honor?”
I place my hand over hers, squeezing it softly. “Always, baby.”
Chapter Fourteen
The producersofKnot What You Expectedspared no expense when setting up this house. This bed is a cloud—an absolute dream.
By the time I’m up and showered, it’s nearly nine. Everyone else is in the living room, awkwardly silent. Ariana is curled up in the chair with her e-reader, her hair wet, but not dripping on the soft black sweater she’s wearing.
Grant and Derrick are cuddled up on the couch, discussing the photoshoot Grant had to cancel to be on the show. I can tell Ariana is trying not to listen, but she keeps peeking out of the corner of her eye at the two of them.
We haven’t discussed the fact that Grant is scent matched to us, have we?
Shit, we’ve not discussed anything. We need to do that. That’s first date stuff, right?
I wonder why they’re not trying to get to know her? Right now, there is a divide in the room, us versus her, Sax versus Onion. Someone needs to bridge the gap. How arewe supposed to win her over if the guys won’t even talk to her?
Must I do everything for this pack? I guess it’s up to me to get this conversation rolling.
I’ll get right on that as soon as I make some coffee.
