Chapter 11
Lo
Of course this is happening. Of course it is.
I leave the bar, and just as I step out into the crisp winter air, I smell him. All pine and leather and the warmth of autumns past.
I didn’t expect him to follow me.
Something shifts between us again. Something I’m choosing to ignore, because it isn’t like I’m staying. This is just a layover. Somewhere to rest my head, gather my thoughts, and to get away from the nonsense that has a tendency to follow me wherever I go.
But I can feel it just the same. Feel him and that damned electrical current that seems to sizzle between the two of us. It makes the whole world crackle.
It makes my Omega want to kneel.
My skin burns in the cold.
And then he’s there, too close. At my back. Hovering over me. Towering, with that damned shadow of his that he seems to know how to wield against everyone and everything.
Damn him.
Damn Ford to hell for ever making me feel this way.
“Lo, we need to—”
“I don’t need to talk,” I snap, and I can feel my pulse thundering in my ears.
God, I hate this. Hate that I can’t stop this… this thing between us.
I want more. More than being knotted and knocked up and kept pregnant until I die.
But the pounding.
The pulsing.
I can’t escape it.
I whip around, angry. Angry about him making me feel this way. Angry about him not putting words to this. Why did I have to come to him?
His eyes catch mine, and something slams into place.
I hate him for it.
“Lo,” he says, his voice warming me from the inside out. “Talk to me.”
The pull of my Omega instincts tightens, a simmering pressure that builds under my skin, making every nerve hum with urgency.
I should walk away. I should tell him to shove it.
But instead, I stay right there. Staring up at him. Craning my neck as my gaze finds his swollen lower lip.
And I hate how much I don’t want to walk away.
His hand moves, almost hesitating, but then it brushes against mine, just the lightest touch. It crackles through me. And before I can stop myself, I take a step closer.
My body moves before my brain can catch up.
What is wrong with me?
I’m pretty sure I hear him curse under his breath, but it doesn’t matter. The burning desire between us is so thick now, it’s practically suffocating.
“You don’t get it,” I mutter, the words slipping out before I can catch them. “This isn’t just about you, Ford. This is…”
He opens his mouth, probably to say something about that kiss, the one that came out of nowhere and burned me from the inside out. But I don’t let him. I can’t. The scent of pine sap and rough leather fills the space between us, and it only makes the pull stronger.
My Omega’s need reacts before I can think, my pulse quickening as the scent wraps around me like a coil, tightening the tension in my chest.
“Lo,” Ford snaps.
Before I even think about it, I’m moving, slamming my lips into his.
It’s not a kiss, not really. Not one of those romantic, heartfelt kisses you see in movies. No, this one is desperate. Raw. Like every damn thing I’ve been holding back just explodes all at once.
His lips are warm against mine, but it’s not enough. I need more. The lonely Omega inside of me that just wants a place to call home requires it. Demands it. And goddamn it, I don’t want to fight it.
I’m so tired of fighting all the time. Everywhere I turn. Everywhere I go.
My body presses into his, demanding more, needing all of him, and the heat inside me flares again.
I’m about to lose control.
Ford’s hands come up, hesitating for a second, and then they’re on my waist, pulling me closer.
Until our bodies are flush against one another.
Again.
You’re going to make him a pariah. Is that what you want for your Alpha?
The thought takes me by such surprise that I gasp. I pull away for half a second, heaving for air. I’m dizzy. My skin is burning. Every part of me is screaming, but I can’t stop clinging to his shirt. I can’t stop flaring my nostrils. His Alpha scent is too intoxicating.
I want to drown in it. Bathe in it. I want it to seep into my veins until my scent is no longer mine, but his. It wraps around my senses, the strength of it suffocating, and it draws me closer until I can barely breathe without him.
“You have no idea,” I mutter thickly, my throat is full of something hot and impossible to swallow.
Ford’s eyes are dark, and I know he’s feeling it, too. That damn pull. “I have no idea of what?”
Fuck, did I say that out loud?
Because he has no idea how complicated this could get. How much danger being with me would put him in.
I have to push him away.
I have to let go.
So, why can’t I?
“Lo,” he says again, regaining my attention. “What are we doing?”
I don’t know. I don’t know what we’re doing. But I can’t get the words to come out.
Before I can process what he just said, what I just did, my body’s already moving, dragging me back into the kiss again.
And that’s when it happens.
Ford’s hands grip my hips, his touch possessive and commanding, before he lifts me. It’s as if I weigh nothing to the massive Alpha, and the whimper that bubbles up my throat escapes unrestrained. He pushes me roughly against the outer brick wall of the bar. The cold, unforgiving brick.
Push him away, my brain demands. Protect him at all costs.
But when his body presses into mine, his scent overwhelms me again, thick with that primal Alpha intensity, and I lose all train of rational thought again.
Just like inside the bar.
It’s instinct, a silent command that I can’t ignore. My body arches into him before I can stop it, responding to his proximity, like a magnet drawn to its opposite.
The cool brick wall presses into my back, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of him, nothing compared to the way he’s crowding me, forcing me to feel every inch of him.
Every damn inch, thick and pulsing, that I can feel against my leg.
Fill me, Alpha.
I gasp into the kiss, trying to ignore my thoughts. My hands push against his chest, but all he does is lean closer, trapping me between the immovable wall and his impossibly broad chest. I groan against his lips, and it earns me a lick of his tongue against the roof of my mouth.
My slick panties won’t survive this bar trip.
Ford pulls away for just a second, but not far enough to let me escape. He’s breathing heavy, his breath ragged like he’s been running a marathon. His hands are on me, everywhere, around my waist, my shoulders, like he’s trying to hold me together and break me apart all at once.
“You really wanna keep doing this?” he murmurs gruffly.
I want to snap at him, want to push him away. Tell him to get a grip, but I can’t.
The words don’t come. Not with him this close. Not with his breath so damn warm against my neck, his lips grazing just below my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
“I…” I start, but I’m not even sure what I’m trying to say anymore.
I should stop this. Hell, I should’ve stopped this the second he touched me, the second that stupid kiss came out of nowhere and exploded everything I’ve been trying to ignore.
But instead, I pull him back in, slamming my mouth to his like I don’t care about the consequences. Like I don’t care that I’m about to lose everything.
That I could risk him losing everything.
His hands move faster now, pulling me out of my head, and I barely register how his fingers work their way under my jacket.
How they slip beneath my shirt, skin against skin, burning me up from the inside.
My body has got a mind of its own. It’s been waiting for this—this raw, desperate thing between us.
He groans, low and guttural, squeezing my softness, and it makes my insides twist. The sound is a switch, flicking something inside of me, a primal need that I can’t ignore.
My Omega instincts can’t get enough of the scent of him.
I press my nose against his throat, inhaling as much of him as I possibly can.
I want more. I need more.
I don’t even know what’s happening anymore, only that I can’t stop. Not when everything inside me is screaming for him.
Honeysuckle Grove no longer exists. The only thing I know is the feeling of his tongue. The grip of his wandering hands. The feel of his massive body pressed to mine, those chiseled planes etching their way against my softness, like I’m a piece of wood that’s refusing to yield.
I want him to chisel me into something more.
Something greater.
Something worthy of him.
I tug him closer, my hands on his chest, feeling the heat of his body through the fabric of his shirt. His lips are sucking on mine now, urgent and demanding.
I want to pull away, I want to scream at him, but my body’s betraying me.
He pulls back again, just enough to look me in the eyes, his forehead pressed against mine, both of us gasping for breath. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, and I can see the struggle there. He’s fighting for the same thing I am.
To stop.
“You don’t get to do this to me, Lo,” he whispers, so close to a growl that it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
I don’t have an answer. Don’t have anything to say that makes sense.
“I’m not the one doing this,” I manage, barely a shaky whisper. “You started this. You’re the one who can’t…”
I stop, biting my swelled lip as I struggle to catch my breath. The heat in my chest is unbearable now. Something’s alive inside of me, clawing to get out. I can feel it in every part of me.
Ford’s hands are on me, his lips too rough and relentless, pulling my body further into him. He’s trying to fuse us together. He grips my thighs, lifting me effortlessly, and I let him, wrapping my legs around his waist as if I’ve done this a thousand times before.
There’s nothing graceful about it, though. It’s urgent, frantic. My shirt, still rucked up. My jacket, crooked. His shirt, wrinkled from where I’ve been gripping, and loose from where I’ve been tugging. We’re both racing against time, against something bigger than either of us.