“I’m going to be blunt with you, because I’ve got about two more minutes before I lose my mind,” she says evenly. “Before these clothes come off and I need to be back in my nest.”
“I like when you’re blunt,” I whisper.
“You’re my scent match,” she breathes, smiling. “And, because I’ve had like ten orgasms by now, I’m in a great mood. I’m going to assume you think that us scent matching is a good thing.”
I nod. “I do,” I rasp. “I do.”
My heart beats so fast in my chest that the world doesn’t seem real anymore.
All I see is Maeve.
“Then can you tell me why you look so terrified? I’m going to assume it’snotbecause of me,” she warns.
“I…I…” I swallow, frustrated and ashamed.
I like having aplan.I like knowing how to do things and being prepared for what’s next.
“You can tell me, baby,” she whispers, and my cock throbs at the nickname. “Alpha.”
“I’ve never done this before,” I admit quickly.
She stays rooted in place, but her lip quirks. “Done what?”
I need to just tell her.
But I’m forty years old, and the admission is beyond embarrassing.
If I had known that I would find my scent match, that I would have Maeve, I wouldn’t have come into this blind.
I swallow, and she takes a tiny step closer, her hand outstretched. “You don’t judge me, right?”
I shake my head.
“Then I don’t judge you,” she murmurs.
And in that moment, I believe her.
She hasn’t judged me from the first day we met. She gave me a second chance at the restaurant, happily listening to me prattle on about rock doves and any other subject that I was passionate about.
No judging, just pure understanding with Maeve.
I love you,I think.I’m in love with you.
“I’ve never knotted an Omega in Heat.”
The words are low and laced with shame.
I close my eyes, bracing for the blow. Waiting for her laughter, for her disbelief that I could be so inexperienced.
“I know what I’m supposed to do,” I add quickly. “On paper, I know. I…I’ve watched videos, I’ve read up on it. I know it, in here.” I point to my temple, my finger trembling. “But I’ve never actually…done it.”
The room is silent, and I want to die.
Even her mouthwatering scent can’t erase the tension and fear that leave me paralyzed in the kitchen, terrified that I’ve messed this up.
“Logan,” Maeve says sweetly. “Please look at me.”
When I do, it’s not what I expect.
