Page 79 of Mating With My Grumpy Alphas
"Most alphas are idiots."
That surprised a laugh out of her, and the sound hit me like sunshine. When had I started measuring my days by whether or not I could make her smile?
"Can I ask you something?" she said, still standing close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from her skin.
"Anything."
"That night you found me, when I was having the heat flare. You said you'd been thinking about me since that first day. Did you mean it?"
The vulnerability in the question made my chest ache. Like she still couldn't quite believe that anyone would think about her without being prompted or obligated.
"I meant it," I said. "Every word."
She looked up at me then, and something in her expression shifted. The tentative uncertainty was still there, but underneath it was something bolder. Something that made my alpha instincts sharpen to a fine point.
"I'd been thinking about you too," she said softly. "All of you, but you especially. The way you take care of things. The way you fixed the heating system at the bookshop because I was cold, and you worked on it for so much longer to make sure it wouldn’t break again. The way you make me feel safe even when you're grumpy."
"I'm not grumpy," I protested automatically, which made her smile.
"You're absolutely grumpy," she said. "But it's endearing. Like you're determined to take care of everyone whether they want you to or not."
"Maybe I am," I admitted. "Especially you."
The words hung between us, loaded with meaning and possibility. Her scent was getting stronger, more complex, and I could feel my body responding despite my best efforts to stay in control. Heat was coming, but this moment felt separate from biology. This felt like a choice.
"Rhett," she said, and there was something in her voice that made me look at her more carefully.
"Yeah?"
"I think I need..." she started, then trailed off, color climbing up her neck.
"What do you need?" I asked gently, stepping closer without really thinking about it. My hands came to her waist as I gently pulled her closer.
"I need to know that this is real," she said in a rush. "That it's not just heat making me feel this way. That you want me even when biology isn't demanding it."
The honesty in her confession made my heart clench. Of course she'd need that reassurance. Of course she'd worry that our interest was purely instinctual rather than personal.
"Willa," I said carefully, "I've wanted you since the day I walked into Pine & Pages and you looked at me like I was a puzzle worth solving. Heat has nothing to do with it."
"Really?"
"Really." I reached up to cup her face, thumb brushing across her cheekbone. "You think I keep broken coffee mug handles as a hobby?"
That earned me another laugh, and I realized I was addicted to the sound. To the way her whole face changed when she was happy.
"Kiss me," she said suddenly, and the words hit me like a lightning strike.
"You sure?" I asked, even though every instinct I possessed was screaming at me to do exactly that.
"I'm sure," she said firmly. "I want to know what it feels like when I'm choosing it. When I'm not afraid or overwhelmed or trying to prove something. I always want to know what it feels like to kiss you because I want to."
So I kissed her.
Gentle at first, just a soft press of lips that tasted like the coffee she'd had with breakfast and something uniquely her. But when she made a soft sound and pressed closer, when her hands fisted in my shirt like she was trying to anchor herself, gentle wasn't enough anymore.
I deepened the kiss, one hand tangling in her hair while the other settled at the small of her back. She melted against me like she'd been waiting for this, like she'd been holding herself back until now and finally felt safe enough to let go.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard. Her lips were swollen and her eyes were dark, and she looked like every fantasy I'd ever had about what it might be like to be wanted by someone like her.
