I hiss at the contact, my skin still sensitive.
“Sorry,” he whispers, dabbing gently.
“It’s okay. I think I’m still not used to your… size.”
That earns me another smile from him.
He’s careful, thorough. When he’s done, he hands me a dry cloth, and I finish the job, adjusting my clothes with shaky hands.
Then he reaches for his own jeans. He doesn’t put them on immediately. Instead, he leans back against the counter, his hand dropping to his groin.
The knot is there—a swollen, angry-looking ring of flesh at the base of his shaft. It didn’t fully inflate because of the condom, didn’t lock us together, but it’s substantial enough to be uncomfortable.
It’s a biological remnant of his Alpha nature, a physical proof of how much he wants me. And I watch, fascinated, as he begins to massage it.
His thumb presses into the swollen tissue, working the blood back down the shaft. His jaw tightens, and a low groan rumbles in his chest.
“You okay?” I ask, pulling my sweater back down.
“Uh-huh,” he says through gritted teeth, his eyes squeezing shut.
“I’ll never get used to seeing you do that,” I admit, watching his hand work. It’s intimate. A side of Alpha biology most people never see.
He lets out a harsh breath as the swelling finally recedes enough for him to pull his boxers and jeans back up. He buttons his fly with a sigh of relief.
“Okay,” he says, washing his hands at the sink again. “Hygiene restored.”
I join him at the sink, scrubbing my hands with the floral-scented soap. The water is hot, soothing my chilled fingers.
“Now,” he says, turning to the bag he brought. “I promised you chocolate croissants.”
We end up sitting on the floor of the shop, leaning back against the cabinetry beneath the counter.
It’s not the most comfortable seating arrangement—the hardwood is unforgiving—but it feels right. Like a secret picnic in the middle of a forest.
He opens the bag, and the scent of rich dark chocolate and buttery pastry fills the air. He breaks one in half, handing me the larger piece.
It’s still slightly warm, the chocolate inside gooey and decadent.
I take a bite, closing my eyes as the flavors bloom on my tongue. It’s perfect. Flaky, sweet, and rich.
“This is amazing,” I murmur, licking a crumb from my lip. “You’re really showing off tonight, aren’t you?”
“I just like feeding you,” he says simply, taking a bite of his own half.
We eat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound the crunch of pastry and the distant hum of the refrigerator. I look around the dark shop.
The moonlight filters through the front window, illuminating the buckets of roses and eucalyptus. It feels so peaceful now, but the shadow of the upcoming closure is looming over me.
“I’m going to miss this place,” I admit softly, staring at a bundle of white hydrangeas. “Even with the stress, and the cold, and the difficult brides… I love it here. It feels like mine.”
Eli swallows his bite, turning to look at me. “You’ll reopen, right? After the renovations?”
“Yeah. Norah is adamant about it. Jude, Ryker and Dorian are fully funding the expansion, so the business itself isn’t in trouble. It’s just…” I trail off, picking at a piece of chocolate on my croissant. “It’s the timeline. Three months, maybe more. And during that time, the doors are closed. No sales. No customers.”
“Which means no paycheck,” Eli says quietly. He’s observant. He’s put the pieces together.
“Exactly.” I sigh, resting my head back against the cabinet. “I have some savings, but not enough to float me for three months. Plus, my car decided to die on me two days ago. The repair bill ate through half of what I had set aside.”
