Page 83 of The Beta's Blind Date

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I wish I could take them back. I press my lips together and hope he didn’t catch what I said.

“For the wedding?”

Damn it. He noticed.

I swallow and lick my lips. This is the conversation I’ve been dreading, been putting off since the night at the bar. “Um. Yeah. I’m going to the wedding. With Dominic.”

His grip on me tightens, and his whole body stiffens, freezing him in place as a shadow passes over his eyes. “Seriously?” he asks, and I nod. “When were you going to tell me that?” I shrug. “So… what? You were just going to show up on his arm and hope I didn’t notice?”

“I couldn’t figure out how to tell you. And we were pretty preoccupied with training me for my challenge. And I know I didn’t mention it to you, but it’s not like you asked me to go with you. You never brought it up either.”

He sighs. “I guess that’s a fair point.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Honestly? This is going to sound terrible, but I didn’t think about it. I never planned on taking anyone. And I’m not used to doing any of this. I’m still figuring it out. I guarantee you, there will be more times I fuck up like this.” He groans and shakes his head, pressing his forehead to mine. “Why are you going with him?”

“Because he asked me, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to go otherwise.” He pulls away a little and his brow lifts. “I mean, at the time. When he asked me. I hadn’t met you yet. Actually, I set up our date right after he asked me. And he’s my friend.”

“He’s your ex.”

“We were never official.”

“Taryn.” He tears himself away and rubs his hand over his face, pacing back and forth. When he stops and faces me, hands on his hips, his eyes blaze and simmer, and he stares at me like I’m his next meal. Like he owns me. Every piece of me. And my soul longs to be owned by him.

“Go with me instead. Be my plus one,” he says.

I wait for him to laugh, to back out. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t bat an eyelash. He’s serious.

“What am I supposed to tell Dominic?” I ask.

“‘Sorry, Alpha Dickhead, but I got a better offer.’”

“You’re serious?”

“Dead serious. Be my plus one. We’ll have a great time together.”

My heart pounds in my chest, and a shiver of excitement runs through me. I picture it—me as his date, holding his hand, sitting at his side during dinner. I picture him in a tux and how he’ll fill it out with his toned and hard-earned muscles, and my stomach flutters.

A jolt of pleasure zaps me as he grabs my hand, his thumb rubbing over my knuckles, his beautiful blue eyes staring down at me, and I remember every moment that has drawn us closer together, each touch and exchange, and how our bodies react to each other, and how I feel empty and alone when we’re apart. I remember dancing the night away with him, our bodies pressing together and moving with each other, and I wonder…

If I go with him, if I’m his date, will our night end with us moving in unison again? Will we end up in bed, naked and exploring each other, moaning and whispering between our panting and kissing? Will this night be the impetus for us to give in to everything that has been building between us since our first date?

“You want me to go with you?” I ask again, clarifying. Making sure. He nods. “As your…?”

“As whatever you want to be. My friend, my cadet, my girlfriend. We don’t need to put a title on what we are. It doesn’t matter to me, as long as you’re at my side and in my arms.”

I search his eyes, still waiting for hesitation from him, but there is none. My body sings, and I throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and slamming my lips against his. He doesn’t flinch or hesitate. He just wraps himself around me, kissing me back with equal fervor.

Our mouths open and move, twisting and dancing. His hands roam my body, and I press against him, rolling my hips into his, rubbing myself against the proof of his passion. We groan in unison, and his hand cups the back of my neck, holding me in place as my fingertips slip under the hem of his shirt, tracing over the hardened, chiseled muscles of his abdomen.

His breath hitches as I explore the warm, smooth skin, and I’m overcome with power, knowing I can make this strong, warrior male shake and lose his breath, make his heart skip a beat from my touch. That power, that thought, has my body quivering in his arms, my knees buckling, but he snakes his arm around my waist, pinning me in place so I can’t fall or move from him.

It’s so intense, so heated. His passion collides with mine and explodes between us, both of us caught in the flames. I let go of everything, of all the persistent insecurities, and drown myself with him—with his scent, his touch, and his kiss.

He slides his lips from mine and kisses along my jaw, alternating between soft, barely there kisses and heated, heart-stopping kisses. His thumb presses against my chin, tilting my head up and to the side, and his other hand roams my torso, exploring my curves, stopping short of my breasts. Goosebumps pebble my skin, and I moan and sigh as he kisses down my neck, nuzzling into it and nipping at it, drawing out deeper moans the longer he lingers there.

“Reid…” I gasp, my fingers scraping against his abs, searching for something to grab onto. “Oh, fuck. Reid, I—”

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