Page 25 of Real

He slowly withdraws his fingers. My ass feels horribly empty. I want to burrow into his shoulder and cuddle close. I want him to promise me he wasn’t just trying to placate me when he said he’d make love to me once we got back to the beach house. I want so many things from him, and I have no business asking for more.

“How do you feel?” he asks.

I could be honest. Tell him that I’m embarrassed. That I’m sorry for forcing myself on him. But I don’t even know where to begin. I place my hand over the crook of my neck where he bit me.

“I’m sorry about the mark,” he says.

I’m not. The way he stared at my scent gland with hungry eyes just before he bit down was intoxicating. I could have sworn he wanted me in that moment.

Candlewick once said that his heats made him stupid. I guess mine do too.

“Don’t worry about the mark,” I finally say. “Thank you for helping me.”

“So you’re not upset?” He searches my face. I don’t know what he thinks I’d be upset about.

“No.”

He slides his fingers along my jaw. “It would be okay if you were. I lost control of myself and took advantage of the situation. I’m sorry.”

He lost control of himself? That means he was into it, right?

I lean forward and brush my lips against his. Maybe I shouldn’t. I’m not in heat anymore, and I don’t know how he’ll react.

Timothy kisses me back gently like I’m as fragile as a china doll. Then he rubs his nose against mine affectionately. “I’ll take better care of you next time. Make sure you have a nice place to build your den and everything you need to be comfortable, okay?”

Next time? In less than twenty-four hours, I’ll be back with Dorian. I won’t have a next time with Timothy.

Maybe Dorian could wait twenty-four more hours. Just long enough that I could spend one more heat in Timothy’s arms.

“I should go talk to Candlewick,” he says.

That’s when I realize I’m still straddling him. He can’t get out of the car. I scramble off him and fumble with the zipper of my jeans. I wish I wasn’t so clumsy. “Sorry.”

Timothy fastens his jeans far more quickly and rests his hand on the door. He pauses there for a moment before saying, “You were beautiful.”

“What?”

“When you came, you were beautiful.”

Then he opens the door and climbs out of the car.

A warmth spreads through my chest. My head is screaming that he’s messing with me, that he’s lying, but my heart saw the kindness in Timothy’s face, the truth in his pretty hazel eyes. And I don’t want to listen to my head right now. I want to believe him.

Timothy glances back at me as he walks toward a large, windowless building, and he ducks his head with a sheepish smile. Almost as if I caught him sneaking another look at me.

Happiness seeps through me, all the way to my toes. Timothy can look at me all he likes.

He turns away from me, and now I can see the back side of him. His clothing is loose on his body, but it still outlines the curve of his ass and the width of his shoulders. Everything about him is bigger and softer than Dorian, better than Dorian. He said he couldn’t take a mate. Could he ever date? Or does he not want companionship with an omega? He was able to get hard. Does that mean something?

I’ll take better care of you next time.

What would it be like to spend another heat with Timothy? Maybe he’d let me go to his apartment. I could arrange the pillows on his bed and make a nice, safe space for us. Maybe he’d think my den was beautiful too and he’d be willing to knot me. Or cover my body with his own and hold me close.

The fantasy is too sweet. It makes me want to cry.

When you came, you were beautiful.

His words are like a fountain. Not just the ones he said after it was over but the reassurances he gave me while I was begging for him. I close my eyes and play them over and over again in my head.

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