Page 93 of The Beta's Blind Date

“Cheesy and romantic are Wesley’s middle names,” Reid says.

I lean forward and place the letter on the table, scanning the tent again to see where Dominic is and what he is doing.

“He’s not paying any attention to you right now,” Reid says.

His hand on my back slides lower, his pinky grazing the top of my ass, and he leans in, his nose brushing length of my cheekbone until his lips meet the shell of my ear. “You may be here with Dominic tonight, but you’re still my girl.”

His warm, soft lips and breath tickling my ear mixed with the deep rasp of his voice give me goosebumps, and I shiver in delight, my toes curling in my shoes.

His girl.His.

On instinct, I angle myself towards him, turning so I am eye level with his off-centered tie. I slip my hand up his chest, smoothing his lapel until my fingers reach his tie.

“I only came here with him so I could see you.” I peer up at him through my eyelashes as I straighten the knot and adjust its position beneath his collar.

“Did you tell him that?”

“Of course not.”

He huffs out a small laugh, a half smile on his lips. “Sneaky Cadet,” he says, his other hand lifting to my bare shoulder and caressing down my arm with the backs of his fingers.

I swallow the sigh threatening to escape my lips and close my eyes until his hand reaches mine, his fingers lacing with my fingers and clasping my hand. He nudges my face with his nose and then points towards the cake table with his chin. I turn just in time to watch Haven and Wesley feed each other a small piece of cake, cameras flashing and lighting them up from every angle, illuminating their happiness and love.

“Take a walk with me?” Reid asks, pulling my attention back to him. “Everyone will move from this tent to the dance floor tent. They won’t even realize we’ve wandered away,” he adds, addressing my concerns before I can protest.

“Don’t you want cake?”

“I can get some later,” he says with a shrug.

I squeeze his hand and nod. “I would like that.”

He smiles and squeezes my fingers back, leaning forward and hovering just above my lips, his nose nuzzling mine, before backing away and releasing me from his arms. I shiver from the loss of his touch and his warmth, but he’s back at my side in an instant, holding the plaid blanket from his chair, his hand already positioned in the small of my back again as he guides me from the tent.

We slip out unnoticed as the other guests weave their way through the tent to the dance floor area, and I move closer to his body, to the heat radiating off him in waves. It’s not close enough, though. My body and my wolf will settle for nothing less than me wrapped in his arms, skin touching skin, breath mixing, and bodies writhing.

But we need to talk before that can happen.

He leads me to a small, blazing bonfire, then stops, unfurling the blanket and sweeping it around my shoulders, tugging on the edges until I’m almost flush with his hardened muscles. Almost, but not quite.

I reach my hand behind me to free my trapped braids, and his eyes track the movements, tracing the curls and strands as they tumble down my back and swing side to side.

“I didn’t get to tell you yesterday how gorgeous your hair looks,” he says, his gaze returning to my face, his blue eyes soft and sparkling in the firelight. “I was focused on fixing your car and making sure you were all right, and then—”

I cut him off before he can finish. My words need to be said first; my words that are both an apology and a question. “I’m really sorry about the kiss. We can just forget the whole thing? Just pretend like it doesn’t count?”

“Maybe I don’t want to forget the whole thing. Maybe I want it to count.”

My heart races in my chest like a gazelle. “But—”

He covers my lips with a finger, silencing me and tugging me closer with the blanket until I’m pressed against him, sandwiched between him and the woolen fabric, enveloped in his scent and his heat. “I want to explain. I will explain. But not here. Not right now. I need to do this when it’s just us. Just you and me.”

He lifts his finger from my mouth and I lean into him, stealing everything I can from him—his warmth, his strength, and whatever else he offers me. “Okay,” I say, my voice soft.

“Tomorrow? In the morning? You can come here, and I can make us breakfast, and—”

“What about tonight?” I suggest, lifting my hands to rub his chest and leaving them there, watching as they rise and fall with the rhythm of his breathing.

“Tonight?” he asks, and I nod at him. “Okay. After everyone leaves, we can talk, and I can drive you home when we’re done.”

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