Chapter 35
chapter
thirty-five
Kissing Serena feels like drowning and hyperventilating at the same time.
I think I can’t breathe, then I think I’ll never need to again. Because I can taste her on my tongue, feel her softness pressed into my sternness. And this— this ?—
This is the one type of chemistry I haven’t studied.
Her skin is wet and soft as I feel parts of her that I haven’t even let myself look at. My cock kicks, my thoughts spiral.
Lavender soap is no match for the lush perfection of her scent. And even though I managed not to look while I got her in the tub earlier… I have a feeling I won’t get away that easily this time.
My body is in chaos .
Arousal courses through my veins, racing through my extremities. But the fear welling in my middle has teeth. It snaps, vicious. Demanding tribute.
That doesn’t surprise me. I expected to hate this. What I didn’t anticipate was the want underneath. It’s rooted deep—maybe even deeper than the fear. And while the two sensations battle it out, Serena whimpers against my mouth.
Fucking hell .
What have I done?
How do I take it back?
How do I make sure she never stops ?
A pained, pleasured groan vibrates through my chest, and Serena pulls away, panting. For a second, without her lips on mine, fear wins out. I want to snarl at her, but it seems like she’s expecting that.
Her eyes go wide. She blinks up at me, so scared and vulnerable. My Alpha roars, infuriated that she feels afraid because of me.
I look down at the way I’m holding her—with a hand clamped around her wrist and the other buried into her hair. It’s hardly romantic or even nice . Is that why she’s uneasy?
But no. When my fingers flex against her scalp, a burst of her true perfume snakes into the humid air.
She wants this. Likes this.
And she’s dripping on the floor , goddamn it.
I grind my teeth, my mouth watering, and say the only thing I can think of. “You need a towel.”
Serena blinks. A small laugh tumbles out of her. “Um, yeah. Sure. Thank you.”
I want to punish her for laughing at me, but I also want to reward her for laughing at all. It’s hard to decide which notion is more insane .
I don’t want a mate.
I shouldn’t be kissing her.
Or manhandling her.
And I most definitely shouldn’t be watching the way soapy water sluices over her curves.
But I do. I have. And I will.
My gaze trails over her perfect nipples, memorizing the way the dark buds point slightly upward. The feminine sweep of her waist and soft stomach. Her flared hips. And lower?—
Fuck, I can’t breathe in here.
Hiding a gasp, I pivot and practically rip a towel off the nearest rack, keeping my head turned while I hold it open for her. Her fingertips graze mine as she takes it from me. A moment later, she peeps, “Coast is clear.”
I turn back to her with a sharp nod. Her hair catches my eye first—specifically, the way I mussed it. Since I suddenly exist one thought at a time, I turn toward my bathroom counter and snap, “Come.”
She drifts to my side, lingering nervously. I watch her toes curl into the bathmat under her feet while she waits for me to reveal my plans for her. When I show her the comb in my hand, her lips wobble. Then they spread into a bright, wide smile.
I feel my brows pinch. Do I have something on my face? Why is she looking at me like that?
“What?” I demand.
Humor twitches through her expression. “Nothing.” She shrugs a shoulder. “I like you.”
She—
I glower, waiting for the punchline. “You like me?”
Serena nods, brow pinched in confusion but eyes clear and earnest. “Um… yeah.”
Why? And, more importantly, how ?
No one likes me. And why would they? I’m smart enough to know how insufferable I am .
But Serena’s smile softens into a distinctly fond face. “You’re surprised,” she says quietly, then grins again. “That just makes me like you even more, actually.”
Before I can attempt to process that impossibility, her little hand grazes my cheek. I stiffen, some blend of shock and apprehension skittering down my back.
I can’t remember the last time a person touched my face. And once my mind tells my body there’s no reason to fear, it feels…
It feels…
I grasp her wrist carefully this time.
“I can’t do that,” I tell her. “ Not yet . But there are other things we can try.”
A way to learn her body and give her what she needs. Test her limits and my control.
Because I may not have wanted a mate, but based on the way my body burns for hers? I have one. And every instinct urges me to show her .
Her teeth sink into her lower lip. Those clever green eyes dip to the floor, shy, but more perfume gives her away. The luscious scent swells and brightens. I inhale roughly, a growl rumbling behind my sternum.
It’s ironic. Jonah and Avery have both fucked more women than I ever cared to count. Tristan is well-known in certain circles for his sexual proficiency.
But I’m an omega expert .
And, in the way of any true “expert,” my knowledge is vast and largely theoretical. Sure, I took the time in my twenties to put some of it to good use—always at heat clinics, with strangers, where I knew no one would try to touch me back. None of it was ever done in a real-world setting, though.
Most of it seems to be working so far. The dim lighting, the warm water. The way I stroked her hair. Those are all tried-and-true omega-taming tactics.
I have many more I can show her.
But only if she can keep her hands off me .
Small and wet, with her eyes cast down, she looks like the perfect little supplicant. My Alpha claws at my insides. Wanting to taste her. Sink her onto our knot. Fill her until our scents meld together.
“Come,” I order, waving her into my room. “I’m going to teach you.”