Page 34 of Impregnated By the Alpha

He loved making her eyes roll, the way it always came with a hint of a smile she couldn’t suppress.

“Maybe,” she said, picking up a paintbrush. “If you make me another coffee.”

“Your wish is my command.” Jonah hopped off the ladder and made his way to the kitchen.

He’d brought supplies to make pour-over coffee and some freshly roasted beans from the cafe, knowing they’d need all the caffeinated support they could get during the lighthouse project. With the open floor plan, he could still see Moira, head bent, as she painted the areas near the trim with precision.

“How are you so good at that?” Jonah set the water to heat up on the stove and set the pour over on top of her mug.

Moira lifted one shoulder. “It’s a bit like frosting a cake in a way. Steady hands and patience will get you far.”

“This is why I prefer cooking,” Jonah said, pouring the water slowly over the ground coffee. “It doesn’t require that same level of precision.”

Under the smell of the brewing coffee and the paint, Jonah caught a hint of something else, winding its way in through the open windows. Rain. He glanced out. Rolling clouds gathered above a bloody sunset, dark and heavy. Flashes of lightning arced across from cloud to cloud far out over the sea.

“Uh oh,” he breathed.

“What is it?” Moira asked, turning.

“A storm,” Jonah replied.

The rain came all at once. It drowned out all other noise, encasing them.

“The windows!” Moira cried, dropping the paintbrush and running for the nearest open window.

Rain streamed inside, puddling on the sill and dripping toward the fresh paint. She yanked it closed and ran for the next one. Jonah joined her, and they shut all of the ones that could be, left with just the two broken windows facing the sea.

“What should we do?” Moira asked, pushing a rain-soaked strand of hair from her face. Her arms were spattered with droplets, and one dripped down the soft curve of her cheek.

Jonah thumbed it away without thinking, fingers lingering on her warm skin. Moira’s mouth parted, surprised. He wanted to drag his finger against her lower lip and feel the heat of it, wanted to crush it with a kiss.

A crack of thunder made them both jump apart. Around them, the world was dark as night, with the blanket of clouds blotting out the last dregs of sunlight. Water was streaming in through the broken glass.

“Grab some boards, and we’ll nail them on.” Jonah pointed to a stack of extra wood and grabbed the hammer and nails.

Together, they managed to get the broken windows covered, and the roar of the storm faded, though it battered relentlessly against the lighthouse.

“Guess we’re not going anywhere for a while,” Moira said.

They were soaked now, both of them, from the chest up after their fight with the windows. Jonah’s shirt clung to him. He pinched it and pulled it away from his body, grimacing.

“Did you bring a change of clothes?” Moira shook her hair from the clip, smoothing it with her fingers. Her overalls were a shade darker where they’d gotten wet, and the shirt beneath was translucent, revealing the top of her chest.

Jonah swallowed, looked away. “No, but at least I can get a fire going in the wood stove. That’ll warm us up and maybe dry us off a little.”

While they were working, the brisk autumnal air had been a godsend, but now that they were wet and sedentary, a chill had started to set in. There was a stack of dried, aged wood next to the stove, and with a little work, Jonah was able to get a blaze going. In a few minutes, the heat would fill the small lighthouse.

“There we g—,” Jonah said, turning. His mouth went dry.

Moira had shed her shirt while his back was turned. The overalls barely covered her, revealing the swell of her breast but hiding the peak of her nipple. Forcing his gaze up to her face, he found her staring at him with a challenge in her eyes.

“It was soaked,” she said, lifting the shirt up. She brushed past him to hang it near the stove, where it would dry quickly.

He ached to trace the curve of her neck where it dipped to meet her shoulder. A trio of freckles dotted the skin there like a constellation. It was all he could do to walk away and grab the coffee he’d made for her, topping it up with a splash of hot water.

“Here, this’ll help warm you up.” He held out the coffee for her and focused on making his own until his body settled down again.

She curled up on the couch, legs tucked underneath her, long fingers wrapped around the mug. He stared at the back of her and wished he could know everything she felt and thought. Did she feel the pull between the two of them the way that he did? It was a force that he couldn’t explain, one that had prickled at him even in his teenage years.

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