Page 46 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy
He grins wickedly.
I tilt my head up. Our faces are inches apart.
Too close.
The air between us feels charged. His scent wraps around me with something darker now, spiced heat and want. It pulses in time with my heart, which is currently thundering in my ears like it’s trying to rip free from my chest.
He leans in just enough that I feel his breath fan across my mouth. Not touching. Not quite. Just there, hovering like temptation incarnate.
My knees nearly buckle.
His lips are a hairsbreadth from mine. Not even a full breath separates us. Just heat. Just hunger. My body aches, slick pooling between my thighs like a betrayal. This is why Omegas aren’t supposed to be alone with Alphas. Because when this need ignites, there’s no logic. No safety. Just instinct and devastation.
A single touch would ruin me. A kiss might kill me.
I can’t breathe. Can’t think.
Why the hell did I think shopping with Walker was a good idea? He’s not just dangerous; he’s lethal. And not because he’s trying to be. But because he isn’t. That’s what makes it worse.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. He just looks at me with those searing eyes like he’s stripping me bare. And I can’t look away. Can’t run. I’m locked here, heart in my throat, chest rising and falling too fast.
My fingers curl into the fabric of my dress like it might anchor me. Like I might survive this.
And then his gaze drops to my lips. “I won’t do anything unless you want me to. Do you want me to?”
I swear I feel the moment it happens, as though gravity itself shifts toward him. My lungs squeeze. My body screams out for him, thrashing like it’s being denied oxygen.
His lips twitch, almost a smirk. A dare.
And I snap.
I rise onto my toes and crash my mouth to his like I’ve waited lifetimes to do it. Because if I didn’t, I would’ve exploded from the ache. From the pressure of wanting something so badly it hurts to breathe.
And God help me?—
I don’t regret it for a second.
Just the shock of him groaning into my mouth and the strength of his arms banding around my waist, hauling me against his chest, are enough to destroy me. His kiss isn’t polite. It’s possessive, deep, full of the kind of hunger that makes me ache.
His tongue sweeps into my mouth, tangling with mine, slow and thorough. My hands fist in the front of his shirt. I gasp when he turns me, pressing me to the wall with his body. I can feel every hard line of muscle, the tension thrumming under his skin.
He kisses my neck like he wants to ruin me.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispers.
But I can’t. And when I twist my head to look him in the eye, my answer burns hot on my face. I’m onfire for him.
One of his hands slides under my dress, fingers brushing the back of my thigh, drawing a trembling moan from me. My back arches. I just crave more.
We’re both panting.
“You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever kissed,” he rasps. “And, darlin’, if you keep lookin’ at me like that, I’m gonna lose what little control I’ve got left.”
“Walker—”
“We’re scent-matched, Sophia.”
I flinch and turn around to face him. “Don’t say that.”
