Page 73 of The Beta's Blind Date

The crowd roars, his friends and Blake louder than the rest. The noise yanks us from our trance, and we laugh, breaking our pose to give our mics back to the DJ. I turn to head back to the booth, but Reid tugs me to the side of the stage, behind the curtains hiding the cords for all the sound and lighting equipment.

He’s still laughing, and he brings me close to him, speaking low, so I have to lean in to hear him. “Give me a minute. I’m not sure I’m ready to face everyone yet after that.”

I shake my head. “You weren’t anywhere near as bad as Wesley,” I say, moving down the steps.

My foot catches on loose electrical tape and the cord attached, and I stumble, my hands flying in front of me, ready to brace myself on the floor. But Reid catches me, one hand grabbing my wrist and the other wrapping around my waist, squeezing me to him.

“Careful,” he says, spinning me, his palm pressing into the small of my back, his eyes scanning my face.

“I’m okay,” I say. The beginning of “Can’t Fight This Feeling” plays, and I glance behind him to where Sebastian now stands, ready to sing. I look at Reid again and swallow, backing away from him. “We should head back out there.”

But his hold prevents me from leaving. He slides his hand up from my wrist to hold mine and steps closer to me, pinning me in place with his blue eyes.

“Dance with me,” he says as Sebastian sings.

My heart stutters in my chest. “Haven’t we been doing that all night?”

He shakes his head. “Not like that.” His arm wraps around my waist until my body is snug against his. My hand slides up to his shoulder, and he brings our joined hands between us so almost every part of us is touching. “I want to dance with you like this.”

I blow out a breath and lower my eyes, scanning his chest, stroking the stretch of gray fabric across the broad expanse of muscle between his shoulders. “Oh,” I whisper.

He sways with me in his arms, spinning us in a slow circle, his face dipping so his forehead rests against my temple, and his nose brushes my cheek. With each breath we take, we move closer together. Not just a physical closeness but an emotional one as well. My wolf calms in my mind, relaxing in his presence, soaking him in as much as I am.

The two of us are magnets, drawn to each other. Resistance is futile because no matter how hard I fight it, I always end up in the same damn spot—at his side and in his arms. He lights up every part of me. My life is dark without him, and when we’re apart, I count the seconds until we are together again.

I pushed him away the other day because I was afraid of becoming another female on his ever-growing list, but that was a mistake. I’m not the girl who runs away from my insecurities. I face them head-on. I’ve tried to get us back to the same level of intensity, flirting, and connection as before, but it’s taking longer than I expected.

But I will forge ahead. I will not despair. I have a plan—a plan to draw him out of his shell, to get him to admit to what we both know is true—and I think it’s working.

I rest my head on his chest, relaxing into him, and he moves his lips to my forehead, brushing them across the skin there. A kiss that’s not quite a kiss.

Just like in my dream.

My throat tightens, and my eyes water, but I don’t run away. I’m not doing that again. I close my eyes and snuggle into him, inhaling his scent, both hands curling into his shirt. He releases my hand and slides his down my back, tracing every dip and curve of my body with his palm and his fingers.

I arch against him, my head tilting up. The possessiveness behind his touch, paired with his words from earlier—“You are mine tonight”—has my head spinning and my insides coiling. I barely notice we’ve stopped dancing and stand in an intimate embrace. His nose finds mine, nuzzling and rubbing closer to me, our mouths hovering inches apart, his hands roaming my back and my sides and sliding up my neck.

My lips part, and that same little whimpering moan leaves me as one hand slides further down my back, brushing the top of my ass. “Reid…”

He snaps his hand up and jerks his head away from mine, leaving way too much space between our faces. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem touching my ass the other day,” I tease.

He ducks his head, and in the dim light, I see his cheeks tinting pink. He sighs. “I know, but I shouldn’t have crossed that line with you. It was wrong. You… you’re different.”

“Different?” He nods. “How so?”

“Because you—because you’re—” He grits his teeth and shakes his head, then meets my eyes again. “Because I care about you.”

“You care about me?”

His thumb strokes my neck, and I resist closing my eyes at the comforting touch. “Yes. You’re not like… like other females. You’re important to me.”

I tilt my head to the side, frowning and blinking. “Imogen wasn’t important to you?”

The color drains from his face, and he swallows. “I was really hoping you’d forgotten about that.”

I chuckle and smile, winking at him. “I’m teasing you. A little. I don’t care about your past.”

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