Page 115 of Stream Heat
He stared at me, like he was searching my face for any sign of a joke. When he found none, something fundamental in him shifted. “A real pack. Not just… coping. Not just business.”
“Exactly.” Relief rushed through me. “But to have that, it has to be balanced. Right now, it’s not.”
Theo’s nostrils flared, pupils wide as he caught my meaning. “You want to even it out.”
“I do. If you do. No pressure.”
He didn’t answer. He just closed the space in a blink, backing me against the countertop like the laws of physics didn’t apply, all feral need and pent-up tension.
“I’ve wanted to since the minute you walked in with your armor on and that ‘fuck off’ look in your eyes,” he said, voice gone deep and dangerous. “Even when you were pretending to hate our guts.”
“I never hated you,” I confessed, hands finding his arms for balance. “I was just… scared.”
“What of?”
I licked my lips, determined to see this through. “Of needing people. Of wanting things. Of being vulnerable, and risking not getting what I want.”
He went soft around the edges, gaze so steady it almost hurt. “And now?”
“Now I’m tired of pretending. Tired of fighting against what I want, what I care about.”
Whatever leash he’d been holding himself with snapped on the spot. He crushed his mouth to mine, all rough edges and sharp angles, like he needed to memorize it before I changed my mind. It wasn’t a romantic, gentle first kiss. It was desperate, all teeth and hunger and the frantic need to make up for lost time.
He hoisted me up onto the counter, stepping in between my legs without ever breaking the kiss. His scent was everywhere, ozone and tea and that sharp Alpha kick screaming mine.
“Kara,” he breathed, “you’re running yourself ragged.” The words surprised me, sudden and serious, his lips running along my jaw. “You pretend you’re fine, but you’re not. The heat, the streaming, the tournaments... you don’t even give yourself a chance to heal.”
I jerked back, defensive. “I am fine.”
“No, you’re not. You’re just burning the candle at both ends to prove you’re still the same as before the suppressants. But you’re not. And that’s not a bad thing.”
His hands tightened at my hips, grounding. “You need to adapt. Let us help you instead of digging your heels in.”
Easy for you to say, almost came out, but I bit my tongue. Instead, I said, “You don’t get it. My body betrays me when I least expect it.”
“I don’t have to get it to care,” he said, eyes never leaving mine. “I just hate watching you run yourself down out of pride.Like you’re punishing yourself for something you had no control over.”
I swallowed, throat raw with a sudden rush of understanding. He was right, and I hated that he was right. I’d spent months driving myself into the ground, hanging on by my fingernails, because I couldn’t stand the idea of being less.
“I don’t know how to be this version of me,” I whispered. “I don’t know how to win like this.”
“Then let us help you figure it out.” His thumb brushed my cheek, gentle in a way I didn’t know he was capable of. “That’s what we’re here for, Kara. Not just for heat. For all the hard days.”
I couldn’t answer. Not with words, not right now. So I pulled him down for another kiss, everything I felt pouring out there instead.
He didn’t just lift me off the counter, hestoleme from it, one strong arm under my thighs, the other braced around my back, holding me as if I weighed nothing. The movement was so fast, so sure, that my breath caught in a gasp.
The world blurred until my back hit the wall with a deep thud, the shock of it melting instantly into the delicious pressure of Theo’s body pressing me there. He didn’t step back. He didn’t give me an inch.
His palms gripped my thighs, keeping them hooked tight around his waist, and the heat pouring off him was enough to make my skin prickle.
The scent of him was everywhere, sharp, storm-lit ozone wrapped in that sweet undertone that wasonlyTheo, flooding every breath I took. It made my head swim. Made me want to bury my face in his neck and never come up for air.
“Not very patient, are you?” My voice was teasing, but breathless against his lips.
“Not when it’s you,” he growled, the sound deep and rough enough to vibrate through my bones. His teeth grazed my throat, scraping over my pulse. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you wantme.”
The truth was easy. “Want you,” I said, digging my nails into his shoulders. “Have for months. Wantallof you.”
