Page 26 of Impregnated By the Alpha

He stepped to one side so she could open the door.

“Aren't you leaving?” She asked.

Leaning back against the railing with more trust than she would have had for the rickety thing, he said, “As soon as you’re inside and safe, I’ll be going. Don’t worry, you won’t find me sleeping on your doorstep in the morning.”

A gentleman, making sure she got inside before he left. It was unnecessary but stupidly sweet. She felt him watching her as she turned the key and went inside. Shutting the door behind her, she slumped back against it and shook her head. The night had gone a way she could never have dreamed. Kissing Jonah? Really?

“Damn,” she said, suddenly. She was still wearing his jacket.

It had fit so perfectly and warmly that she hadn’t noticed she was still wearing it. She opened the door, but he was gone, not even a glimpse of his back to call out to. Moira shut the door again and made her way upstairs. Loaf greeted her at the door, winding between her legs and meowing, no doubt lecturing her for staying out so late.

“Hey you,” she said, stooping to scratch beneath this chin.

He stalked off to the living room, tail high and reproachful. Moira kicked off her shoes. Before she hung it on the hook, she pressed Jonah’s jacket to her face and breathed in his smell, indulging herself one last time before the night was through. Tomorrow, she’d be back in reality.

Chapter 9 - Jonah

Jonah spilled hot espresso over his hand when Moira walked in. Cursing, he stuck it under a stream of cool water and focused on the burn to keep from staring. He’d liked Moira in that tight dress the other night. How could he not? But he loved her like this too, bundled up against the chill, her skin luminous beneath a purple cap, rosy from the cold.

By the time she reached the counter, he had himself under control. Mostly. He was still replaying their kiss far too regularly for it to be healthy, and the feeling was more than physical. He desired her, craved her body under his own, but he wanted more than that. Selfishly, foolishly, he wanted all of her. Even though he already knew he would never get it.

“Oh hey, Moira,” he said, trying for casual. “What can I get you?”

She looked surprised to see him there, fingers stalled above the coat buttons she’d been about to undo. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“I just started. Figured it’d be a good way to get to know the town again. Everyone loves coffee, right?” He shifted a stack of cups one inch to the right, then back again.

Frowning, she looked up at the menu, then back at him. “And you know how to use all that?” She asked, gesturing at the equipment behind him.

Jonah brightened. “Actually, yeah. I love cooking, gadgets, and coffee, and espresso is the intersection of all three. We had a machine back at the White Winter house, and I ran the kitchen there.”

He’d caught her by surprise again; could see it in the subtle wrinkle in her brow, like she was trying to solve a puzzle.

She made a skeptical sound. “I’ll take a chance. One mocha, please, with whipped cream.”

“You got it.” He was so excited to make her drink, to show her that he wasn’t inept, that he forgot to ring her up and turned to pull the shot straight away.

“Usually, they charge money here,” she reminded him, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Right, that,” he said, punching in the price for a mocha.

He worked as she paid, drawing the perfect shot to pour into the steamed milk, already mixed with their cafe’s dark chocolate powder. To the top, he added a swirl of whipped cream and a dusting of the chocolate powder.

“Here you go,” he said, sliding it over to her. He watched her take the first sip, ignoring the customer who had just walked in. “How is it?”

She wrinkled her nose, and his heart dropped. Had he burnt the espresso? Maybe he’d over-frothed the milk. He ran through the list of possible issues, kicking himself for screwing it up.

“Actually,” she said, annoyed, “it’s delicious.”

Jonah let out a sigh of relief and wiped his brow. “Feel like I just passed an exam.”

She nodded her chin toward the person waiting at the counter. “Better get that.”

He didn’t want to turn away from her, drinking something he’d made her. Already, he was dreaming up what he’d cook for her if she ever agreed to let him. But he dragged himself away and took the next order. Three more customers came in quick succession, and when he finally had a moment to look up, he was surprised to see that she’d settled into one of the chairs.

During a lull, he grabbed a rag and went over there on the pretense of wiping down nearby tables. Moira had shed her coat, scarf, and hat, and she wore a snug sweater the same color as her eyes.

“You forgot your jacket,” she said, quiet enough that only he could hear. “I mean, I forgot to give it back to you.”

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