Four Days Later #2
I grab a package of chicken thighs out of the fridge as well as an armful of vegetables.
Knox is right there beside me, grabbing a pan, then nudging me toward the stove.
He shifts behind me, hands resting on my waist while I begin to chop.
We move together like a rhythm I didn’t know I could follow—chopping, slicing, seasoning, tasting.
Every time I glance over my shoulder, he’s watching me with those intense green eyes.
I can’t help the little thrill that ripples through me.
A quick flip of the chicken, a sprinkle of herbs, and Knox is grinning as he slides the tray into the oven. “You’re a natural at this,” he says, brushing a stray curl off my forehead.
“I took a lot of upper-level cooking classes at the academy,” I say, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious about the way I said it. I hope he doesn’t think I’m bragging. “I mean, anyone could take them,” I say. “It’s not like I had to take a placement test or anything like that.”
Knox lets out a low laugh. “Any kind of cooking class sounds impressive to me. Everything I know about cooking I read off the back of a ramen packet.” He touches the good side of my neck, steering clear of my ugly mark.
His fingers trailed down, grazing my skin down to the hollow of my throat.
His touch is so featherlight, it makes goosebumps flash up and down my sides.
“You’re a very impressive omega, Skyla Mercer,” he whispers, and heat curls up my neck.
“Not really,” I mumble. “A lot of the girls took the same classes as I did. The really impressive omegas took ballet or chemistry or—”
Knox catches my chin between his thumb and forefinger, and I instantly stop talking. He tilts my face up, making me meet the steady weight of his gaze. My breath trips.
“Don’t do that,” he says softly, but somehow still firm. “Don’t downplay how amazing you are.”
The kitchen shrinks around us, the air thick with heat. I swallow hard, heart hammering, and blurt out the first thing that pops into my head. “The water’s boiling.”
Knox’s lips twitch, the corner of his mouth curving up as he releases my chin. “You are shit at taking compliments.”
I duck my head, fumbling with the box of angel hair pasta like it might shield me. “I’m aware,” I mutter, tearing it open with more force than necessary. Steam fogs my face as I tip the noodles into the boiling water.
The floor creaks behind me, weight shifting. A beat later, Knox’s chest presses solid against my back, his arms sliding around my waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“You make it very hard to concentrate,” I say as I salt the boiling water. I should have done that before I added the pasta.
“Don’t mind me.” Knox’s mouth brushes my shoulder, then lower, tracing slow, unhurried kisses along the curve of my neck. Heat blooms there, spiraling low in my belly. My grip tightens on the spoon as I stir, pretending I can still focus on the task.
“The chicken should be done soon,” I say as his fingers gather my curls in a patient sweep. He drapes the thick mess to one side, baring the other side of my neck to his gaze. I hold perfectly still, pulse jumping when the air hits my raw skin.
“I think this side needs some love, too.” Knox’s warm breath fans over my still tender mark.
It’s pink and shiny, but it’s no longer bleeding, and there’s no scab either. Honestly, it looks better than I ever thought it would.
“You smell so fucking good.” Knox bends, lips brushing gently at the edges of the mark.
My breath catches when his teeth graze over the puffy skin, careful but firm. Then he nips, and a sharp gasp rips out of me before I can stop it—shock slamming into pleasure so sudden my knees nearly buckle.
Knox chuckles low, the sound vibrating against my skin. “Did that feel good, omega?”
I shift in his hold, making my hip bump into the stove and the spoon clatter against the side of the pot.
“Knox—” My voice comes out wrecked and airy, nothing like the sharp scolding I mean to give.
Heat floods my face, and I try again, firmer this time…
though it still falls apart on a shaky breath.
“You’re supposed to be helping me. Not distracting me. ”
I feel the curve of his smile against my skin. “You sound real mad about it,” he teases, arms still cinched around my waist, holding me molded against the hard lines of his body.
“Knox,” I warn, though it comes out far too soft. I really don’t want to ruin the very first meal I cook for my pack.
The big alpha huffs a laugh, then presses a final kiss just below my ear before slowly loosening his hold. “Alright. I’ll behave. Promise.”
Freed, I fix my grip on the spoon, then stir the pasta, heat rising hot against my cheeks. My pulse is still rattling, but at least I can think without Knox’s hands on me.
Then, almost immediately, a broad hand cups my ass, squeezing like he can’t help himself.
I snap my head around, fixing the pack alpha with a pointed look. “Hey! You promised.”
He shrugs, the picture of an unrepentant alpha. “I lied.” His mouth lifts into a devilish grin, his voice dropping into a soft growl. “Are you going to punish me?”
Heat flashes and my sex throbs.
But before I can say anything, the front door clicks open, and I hear Tadeo’s quiet greeting mingled with Dakota’s bright laugh. Knox presses closer, his dark gaze sliding over every inch of my face. The way he’s looking at me feels so possessive and playful at the same time.
“What are you going to do about it, omega?” His voice rumbles, and my skin tingles.
Suddenly, the timer dings, snapping me out of the spell he’s captured me in.
I point the spoon straight at Knox’s chest, letting my voice carry every ounce of mock severity I can muster. “Saved by the bell,” I say, glaring up at him, breath still catching in spite of myself. “I’ll have to deal with you later.”
Knox chuckles as he leans in, his throaty purr curling right through me. “I can’t wait.”