Page 36 of Down Knot Out
Then she moans, a quiet, sleep-thick sound, and I worry she’s having a nightmare. But when her scent shifts, the floral notes deepening, sweetening, I realize it’s far more dangerous than bad dreams.
Desire. Warm and honey-thick.
My body responds before my brain can intervene, blood rushing south with embarrassing speed. I grit my teeth, trying to focus on anythingelse. The geometric pattern of her area rug, the stack of mail on her coffee table, and the distant sound of traffic outside her window.
None of it helps. Not when that moan comes again, her hips shifting restlessly. Not when her pheromones fill the air, calling to the Alpha in me that wants to answer.
This is bad. Whatever she’s dreaming must be a good one, and I have no right to be affected by it. No right to imagine I’m the cause of those sounds. I need to wake her before this gets any more uncomfortable.
Gently, I shake her shoulder. “Chloe.”
Incoherent mumbles rise from her, and she burrows closer.
The heat in my veins spikes, and I shake her harder. “Chloe, wake up.”
Her eyelids flutter, and she blinks up at me, confusion giving way to recognition.
Then she covers her mouth in a yawn. “I wasn’t asleep.”
A laugh escapes me. “You most certainly were.”
“Nope.” She straightens, pulling away, and I miss her warmth. “Just resting my eyes.”
“Resting them so hard you were snoring.”
Her hand flies to her face, rubbing at her cheekwhere a crease from my shirt left a mark. “I do not snore.”
“Snort, then.”
The pink of her cheeks deepens. “How long was I out?”
“About forty minutes. The movie ended.”
Chloe runs her fingers through her hair, untangling a few strands. The movement releases another wave of her scent, and I shift, grateful now for the pillow covering my lap.
“You drooled on me a little.” I point to the damp spot on my shirt.
Her mouth drops open in indignation. “I did not!”
“You absolutely did. Put me right back to our childhood.”
She wrinkles her nose at me, the gesture so familiar that my heart stutters. “That’s a lie. I’ve never drooled a day in my life.”
“Tell that to my shirt.”
She swats at my arm, her dimples appearing in the sleep crease on her cheek.
“You’re adorable,” I say before I can stop myself.
Her eyes widen, and for a moment, I fear I made a mistake.
Then her nose wrinkles again, and she fidgets with the edge of her shirt. “Shush, you.”
The setting sun catches in her hair, turning the pink strands to rose gold. She appears soft in this light. Touchable. And for the first time in years, the distance between us feels surmountable.
I clear my throat. “Kyle texted. The boat won’t be ready until morning.”
She studies me, and I hold my breath, waiting for Chloe to tell me to leave. My fingers dig into the cushion beneath me, prepared for rejection and the reasonable suggestion that I head to my hotel room for the night.
