Page 17 of Tempted By the Alpha Outlaw

Her eyes widen slightly, and I see the way her lips part, just barely, as if she’s about to protest. But she doesn’t. Instead, her gaze flicks to mine, and for a moment, the air between us feels too heavy, too hot.

“I’m not—” she starts, but I cut her off, leaning in just enough to make my point.

“You are,” I say, the words meant for her ears alone. “And it’s kind of adorable.”

Her breath catches, and her pulse flutters at the base of her throat. She doesn’t step back, though. If anything, she leans slightly closer, like she can’t help herself.

“You’re a lot, you know that?” she murmurs.

I huff a low laugh. “You have no idea.”

Her scent wraps around me, sweet vanilla and wildflowers.Her gaze flicks to my mouth—quick, fleeting—but it feels like a dare.

A challenge Iwantto take.

She catches herself, cheeks flushing rose gold, too damn sweet for the thoughts running through my head. She looks away, her voice shaking but firm. “You should probably get back. Someone will notice you’re gone.”

“Let ’em.” My tone stays low, unapologetic. I don’t move. Hell, Ican’tmove—not with her standing this close, her lips parted just enough to make me wonder how they’d feel against mine. “Unless you’re trying to get rid of me.”

Her gaze snaps back, wide, uncertain. Her breath hitches.

“I’m not…” she starts, but her voice falters. She swallows hard, eyes dropping to my mouth again.

This time, she doesn’t look away.

I lean in, just slightly. “Not what?” My voice is rough, more growl than words. My fingers brush her wrist, and she shivers.

“I’m…I want…” Her voice is barely there, dissolving into the charged air between us.

“What do you want, Magnolia?” I press, close enough to see the way her pupils blow wide, the way her lips tremble on a shaky breath. Close enough to hear the little catch in her throat when I shift even closer.

Her scent spikes, thick and heady. My wolfroars. I know exactly what it means. She feels it too—this pull, this connection that doesn’t make any damn sense but refuses to be ignored.

“I…” she whispers, her voice breaking on the edge of surrender. Her fingers brush mine, soft, uncertain, driving me insane.

And just as I’m about to push her for more—just as I’m about to find out exactly what she’s trying so damn hardnotto say?—

The sound of footsteps echoes down the hall, growing louder with each second. Whoever’s coming, they mean business–and I step back just as a short, stern woman walks into the kitchen, her gaze immediately locking onto us. She takes in the scene—Magnolia standing too close to the sink, her cheeks flushed, me leaning against the counter with a smirk I can’t quite hide—and her expression sharpens.

“Magnolia,” she says, her tone calm but carrying enough weight to remind me exactly who she is. “I thought you’d be finished by now.”

Magnolia straightens, her shoulders tensing slightly. “Just wrapping up, Mom,” she says quickly, her voice lighter than it was a moment ago. “Colt was just helping with the dishes.”

Well, shit.

Mom’s eyes flick to me, cool and assessing, and I can see the flicker of suspicion there. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches me like she’s waiting for me to slip up.

I meet her gaze evenly, keeping my expression neutral. “Just trying to be helpful,” I say, my tone easy.

She hums, clearly unconvinced and equally unimpressed. Her attention shifts back to Magnolia, her expression softening slightly. “Well, don’t keep him too long. I’m sure he has other things to do.”

Magnolia nods quickly, her gaze dropping as she moves to grab another stack of plates. “Of course. I’ll be out soon, if you need help with Lucy.”

Her mom lingers for a moment longer, her gaze sweeping over me one last time before she turns and walks out of the kitchen. The tension in the room doesn’t ease until the sound of her footsteps fades completely.

Magnolia lets out a breath, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “You should probably go,” she says, not meeting my eyes.

“Probably,” I agree, but I don’t move. Instead, I lean in just slightly, close enough to catch the faint hitch in her breath. “But for the record,” I murmur, my voice low and rough, “I’m not sorry for staying.”

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