Page 54 of Scrum Heat

The kiss is soft, at first. Something close to cautious. His mouth brushes mine like he’s testing the heat, but I don’t flinch, and I don’t pull away.

I press into him, and the tensionsnaps.

His large hand comes up to cradle my jaw as the kiss deepens, his other palm steady on my waist, like he’s anchoring himself. I shift closer, my knees brushing his thigh around the covers, and he makes a low sound against my lips. It’s soft, almost surprised—like he hadn’t expected me to want this just as badly.

I kiss him harder as my hand knots in the front of his white shirt. His fingers curl into my hip, and his breath breaks when I bite gently at his lower lip. I pull back, just enough to speak, and we’re both breathing like we’ve run a sprint.

“Is this okay?” I whisper.

“Yeah,” he half-laughs, voice hoarse. “Veryokay.”

I smile, then reach for him again.

“Move back,” I tell him, guiding him with me.

His brows flick up when his back hits the headboard, but he doesn’t stop me. His hands fall to my hips as I move to straddle him, the covers slipping down around my body.

The mug of tea sits forgotten on the nightstand, and his breath catches as I settle myself down over his lap. I run my fingers through his hair—still slightly damp from his shower—and watch the way his jaw tightens, the way his eyes trace every inch of me like he’s trying to memorize it.

Then I lean in.

And this time, the kiss isn’t soft at all.

Chapter Fourteen

Finn

I’m trying to be good. I swear I am.

I’ve been good my whole life. Middle child of three, raised right by two very tired betas. I always say please and thank you, I make tea, and I offer hoodies before omegas eventhinkabout being cold. I don’t push, I don’t take without asking, and I wait until I’m wanted.

But right now, there’s an omega in my lap wearing the world’s tiniest lounge set, fogging up the air with the sweetest-scented pheromones I’ve ever been exposed to, and looking at me like I’m a weighted blanket with a dick.

“You’re really warm,” she murmurs, like I’m not currently vibrating at a frequency only pheromone-drenched alphas and malfunctioning air fryers can understand.

I swallow thickly. "Good circulation."

She smiles, slow and sinful, then leans in to kiss me again.

It’s not gentle.

It’s hot, open-mouthed, and filthy.

Our lips slide, teeth knock, her tongue teasing mine until my hands grip her waist to keep from falling apart completely. Her nails dig into my shoulders as her hips rock against me, more deliberate now, like she knows exactly what she’s doing and just how gone I am for her.

And then, just as I’m hanging on by a thread, she pulls back—barely—and murmurs, “Take off your sweats.”

My heart skips, my dick twitches, and my brain exits stage left.

I nod immediately—there’s not even a pause. I lift my hips and tug the fabric down, not graceful in the slightest.

Honestly, I would’ve done the exact same if she’d told me to sit, roll over, or bark.

(Which is a secret I will be taking to the grave.)

She watches me as I do it, her teeth grazing her bottom lip as she shifts higher to give me room.

Once I’m stripped down to my briefs, she settles back into my lap and slides herself forward until she’s hovering right above my bare thigh. Her breath catches, while mine stops entirely.

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