He doesn’t move. I don’t move. We just keep staring at each other until the blues of his eyes start to twist into something softer, wary.
“I’m messing this up,” he says, dropping his head as he steps back. Then quieter, “I always mess things up.”
I’m leaning forward without even realising, the sadness in his tone pulling me in. “Sylvan, it’s fine. You haven’t messed anything up, there’s nothing to mess up,” I reassure him softly, desperate to make him look at me again.
He does, but his gaze is still unsure, unable to meet mine fully. “You don’t like me.”
My breath catches at the sudden sting in my chest. “What?” I say quietly, not really sure how else to respond.
He frowns, stepping a little closer. “First impressions are important, and I gave a bad impression. I was blunt and rude. I’m always blunt and rude.” He drops his gaze. “But I don’t normally care.”
His brow furrows deeply while I sit here, heart pounding. He was nuzzling my throat seconds ago; now, he won’t even look at me.
“You’re right. First impressions can be important...”
He nods dejectedly, but I’m not done.
“However, I think how people behaveafteris more important. People fake first impressions, I know I have, especially in this business.”
I shrug.
“You sometimes have to pretend you’re something you’re not, or something more. But you didn’t, Sylvan. You’re just you.” I lower my voice. “You weren’t trying to impress me or upset me. You work incredibly hard, you’re incredibly skilled at what you do, you’re able to self-reflect and learn, and admit when you’re wrong—a skill mostalphas tend to lack,” I add in a murmur before leaning even closer. “And I like that about you.”
He finally looks at me, so I add a small smile when I repeat more clearly, “I like you, Sylvan.”
The second those words click in Sylvan’s high-functioning brain, those baby blues darken, and his large hands slide back on the desk, trapping me again.
“And you like the twins?” he asks in a low rumble.
“Erm... yes?” But this feels like a trick. “But—”
“We never like the same women.”
That sudden statement shouldn’t make my skin tingle, but damn, my omega is trotting around in delight.
“Never,” he repeats.
Now I’m squirming on the desk, trying to edge back while he leans even closer.
I raise a hand, and he stills, staring at my palm, then up to my gaze. “But,” I try again, “as friends, Sylvan.”
He frowns once more, but this one seems a little softer, and there’s a tilt to his lips that wasn’t there before.
“Friends.” He nods. “But your pupils are dilated…” His fingers slip to my wrist. “…and your pulse is racing…” He leans in, inhaling beside my throat.
I try to hide my shiver, unsuccessfully.
“And your scent...”
The low groan Sylvan produces sinks into my bones. I don’t think I’lleverforget that sound.
“I can barely scent you, but I know you’re aroused.”
I think I’m in shock. That’s what I tell myself when his nose nudges my jaw and his hand drops from my wrist to my knee.
“I bet,” he whispers in my ear, “if I slipped my hand between your thighs, you’d be wet for me.”
My muted whine shocks us both. His hand tightens around my thigh, lips brushing my cheek.
