Page 25 of Knot Their Valentine

“Thanks,” I murmur.

“I don’t think you need to worry about kissing in the future. That was…good.” He swipes his thumb across his bottom lip as he leans back against the opposite counter.

“Thanks. Uh, the others won’t be bothered that you kissed me?” I ask, my heart still racing. The butterflies are still fluttering out of control.

“Oh, they might have some feelings about it. I doubt being bothered will be one of them.” Lachlan smirks. “One more, just to say goodnight.” Lachlan pulls me into his arms harder this time, forcing a gasp out of me. When he kisses me this time, my arms wrap around his neck, and he grips my hips firmly.

His lips are more insistent, his tongue delving into my mouth and making me moan. It’s a hot kiss that spikes my blood with heat and sends slick flooding my panties. He pulls away suddenly, smirking down at me. My lips are parted, and I’m breathing heavily.

Unsteady, off balance. Fuck, that was intense.

“Sleep well, Harlow.” He kisses my forehead and then heads out of the room and down the hall.

Well fuck… That was…a lot.

The scents in my room don’t get any less intense, because one look at my freshly made bed…reveals that same damn blanket from Quin’s bed! That shifty little Omega!

But I’m one weak bitch, so instead of ripping the bedding off, and sleeping in sweats, I strip down to my underwear, and dive into their scents. I roll around in it, my perfume hitting the air like an alarm letting Alphas I’m available for fucking.

“This is torture…” I whisper, moaning as the softness of the sheets caresses my skin.

Chapter Six

Why am I up at this ungodly hour planning to drown my troubles, you ask? Well because I was just fucking fired. I should be at work right now. Instead, my office manager called to let me know not to bother coming in.

Is seven in the morning too early to start drinking? Probably.

No one’s here to judge me, though, so fuck it.

I lift my head off the kitchen counter and drag myself over to the fridge. I’m still wearing the stupid blue scrubs I’d pulled on before I got the call. At least they didn’t have me walk the twenty minutes into the office to fire me.

And I guess there’s always unemployment…

“Woah, Harlow?” a sleepy, husky voice groans, causing me to wince. Quinton has no business sounding that fucking incredible at the unholy hour of seven a.m.. I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe in the cool scent of the fridge before grabbing the wine I was digging for.

“Yep,” I greet him by waving the bottle in the air, before I head to the cabinet for a glass. “I’m celebrating, want to join?” I finally look at him and really wish I hadn’t. I try to distract myself by pouring the wine into the two glasses I grabbed, but fuck me.

He’s all bedraggled and mussed up. His black hair is a mess, and he’s wearing loose pajama pants. They’re white with pink hearts on them. It’s hard not to smile at how cute he looks. Until I get a look at his bare upper body.

I’m still not convinced that I didn’t die and that this isn’t hell. Becauseare you fucking kidding me?

Abs. Biceps. A happy trail of black hair that disappears under the waistline of his pants? Sinful. Absolutely sinful.

I realize much too late that I’m just standing here, holding the bottle of wine over the glass, not pouring it. Just holding it. Staring. My scent fills the space between us, giving my desire away. Fantastic.

What’s worse? The way his cheeks blush pink, and he lifts a hand to the back of his neck. Stretching the muscles of his body… Showing me more of what I can’t have.

This is absolutely hell. I’m officially convinced.

“At seven in the morning?” he asks, after clearing his throat. I blink, then pour the wine. White this time. I consider holding my breath as he moves around the counter and stands beside me, but ultimately don’t. I’m addicted to him, and the sweet scent of peaches.

“Umhum. I was fired. For excessive tardiness. Which is fucking bullshit because I was late once. And it wasn’t even my fault. I was told to come in at ten, but was apparently expected at nine. No one fucking told me, though. Not to mention they didn’t want to work with my schedule for volunteering, saying that isn’t a priority. Anyway, I’m celebrating my freedom. That job was hell, so, whatever,” I grumble, setting the bottle of wine down, doing my best to hold in my tears.

The struggle not to angry-cry fades away the instant Quin wraps his arms around me, his scent soothing my pain with ease.

Oh, god… He smells like sex, and slick, and Caelum… So, he hasn’t showered after his apparent activities last night. I shake inhis hold, and despite the fight I put into resisting, I fail epically when I press my face into the crook of his neck.

He must feel it, when I suck in a fat lungful of his scent, then shiver violently.

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