Page 16 of Knot Their Valentine

Harlow: I’m taking Quinton to a bowling alley and then out to dinner. Get him some flowers, and a very expensive, fluffy blanket. In his favorite color. Can you follow those simple instructions, or do I need to talk you through this step by step?

Satan: He hasn’t been to the one on Eighth and Dewy in a while. He likes that one. I’ll send you money for dessert too. His favorite is chocolate strawberries.

I ignore the fact that Quin’s favorite dessert is my scent.

It’s an unrelated coincidence. Many people, Alpha, Omega, or otherwise, enjoy the delicious treat. Hell, I love them as well!

I consider Caelum’s pushy request, nibbling my lip. You know what I think I’ll pass on? Watching Quin eat a dessert that shares my scent. That just screams trouble.

Harlow: So while you’re at the store picking up the flowers and a blanket, add a bag of chocolate chips and fresh strawberries to the list. Then make them for him yourself. Or better yet, make them with him, you overly-dry-slab-of-beef-jerky.

Satan: Overly dry beef jerky? That's the insult you went with?

Harlow: You’re right. I should have been meaner. I’ll strive for something more hurtful next time, you baked bean.

Satan: Any other demands, Fireball? Something I can get you?

I glare at the suspicious message. I’m not answering that. Instead, I toss my phone on my bed, annoyed with the way that question made me feel.

I love unexpected gifts. Who doesn’t? But as an Omega, gifts can represent other things. Courting. Desire. Want.

Fucker.

He knows that. Any Alpha worth a fuck, knows damn well what offering gifts to an unmated Omega means. I tug my shirt and shorts off and toss them on a shelf with other clothes that aren’t dirty, but too used to be considered clean enough to fold. I showered this morning, but still. I grab a pair of jean shorts and nibble my lip as I try to decide which shirt to wear.

“How's this?” Quin asks from the hall, and I abandon my search for a moment to pull the door open. He’s wearing a simple white t-shirt and dark blue jeans with clean black sneakers.

“You look good,” I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat that formed at the sight of him. Why did I tell him to dress up? He’s also wearing a small strand of pearl beads around his neck, and several silver rings on his left hand.

So tall and toned. Jeez, he’s handsome.

I’m so busy taking in the sight of the man, that I don’t notice the way he’s looking at me until right this second. Lips parted slightly, pupils blown, his scent filling my room with juicy peaches.

“Oh, ha, sorry!” I turn back to my closet, embarrassed that I was standing before him in my white lacy bra.

“Why are you apologizing? You’re in your own room.” Quin clears his throat. “And I enjoyed the view,” he murmurs.

“What?” I look at him over my shoulder, standing halfway in my closet now. Quin shrugs.

“You’re very beautiful, Harlow. Your body, your face. All of you is stunning. I was just a little surprised. The bra is see-through,” he chuckles, reaching up to grip the back of his neck, stretching all those muscles. His shirt peeks up, flashing the tan skin just above his jeans.

“Well fuck,” I grumble, looking down at my chest and confirming that he’s correct. Did he see my nipples harden at the sight of him?

“Don’t be embarrassed, Low,” Quin says softly, and I feel the heat of his body as he steps in close behind me. “You’re the most beautiful Omega I’ve ever seen.”

“Quinton…” I whisper, my eyes falling shut, and I pull in a lungful of his mouth watering scent as it ripens, spiking with desire.

“Harlow.” I don’t know if I want him to close the distance between us, or if I should close the closet door between us… I don’t move. Don’t dare take another breath. I just stand here, waiting. Hoping and hating that hope all at once. “We can count this as our date for the charity. I’ll wait for you in the living room,” he finally says, and once he’s out of my room, I deflate.

I didn’t intend for this to be our date, but I guess if that's what he wants, I’m fine with it.

“Well,you kicked my ass every round. Even when you tried to lose!” I tease. After spending a couple of hours bowling, we’re both hungry. The restaurant we picked wasn’t that busy when we got here, so we’re already seated in a booth at the back.

We’re slightly secluded, so we have some privacy. Instead of sitting across from me, Quin slides over until we are sitting next to each other. I’m reading over the menu, but I’m distracted. Quin’s thigh is pressed against mine, the heat of his body feeding the needy Omega instincts that crave his attention.

“I’ve had a lot more practice,” he shrugs. “I thought you did pretty well for someone who hasn’t gone bowling since you were a kid.” Quin bumps me with his shoulder, giving me a teasing smile that warms my blood.

What would it be like to lean into his body? To kiss that plush pink bottom lip?

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