Page 39 of Knot in Bloom
“I need to tell you something.”
My pulse quickens. “Okay.”
“I’ve been thinking about kissing you again since about ten this morning.”
Heat floods my system so fast it makes me dizzy. My scent must change immediately because his nostrils flare and his pupils dilate in response.
“Just thinking?”
“Thinking. Planning. Fighting the urge to back you against the counter and find out if you taste as good as you smell.” His voice has gone rough, honest in a way that sends pleasure straight to my core.
I set down the papers I was holding, my hands suddenly unsteady. “What’s stopping you?”
“Nothing anymore.”
He moves toward me with deliberate intent, giving me time to pull away if I want to. I don’t want to. I want him closer, want his hands on me, want to stop pretending I’m not dying for him to touch me.
When he reaches me, his hands frame my face gently. “You sure about this?”
“I’ve been sure since yesterday.”
He kisses me then, and it’s nothing like the gentle kiss from this morning. This kiss is claiming, consuming, months of want poured into the connection of our mouths. I respond with equal hunger, fingers fisting in his shirt to pull him closer.
He tastes like sweet and sour sauce and something purely him that makes me moan against his mouth. The sound seems to break whatever restraint he’s been maintaining, because suddenly his hands are in my hair and he’s kissing me like he’s been starving for this.
“Damn, Sadie,” he groans against my lips. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
Instead of answering, I pull him down to the floor with me, and he follows willingly. His weight settles over me, solid and warm and exactly what I’ve been craving. When he braces himself above me, muscles flexing in his arms, I want to trace every line with my tongue.
“You feel so good,” I whisper, running my hands up his chest, feeling the rapid pound of his heart.
“You smell incredible.” He buries his face in my neck, breathing deep. “Like honey and vanilla and everything I’ve ever wanted.”
His scent wraps around us—sandalwood and leather deepening with arousal until I’m drunk on it. My omega biology purrs in satisfaction, recognizing my alpha’s desire.
His mouth finds that sensitive spot below my ear that makes me arch against him with a gasp. He takes advantage of the movement to settle more fully between my thighs, and the pressure against my core makes stars explode behind my closed eyelids.
“More,” I breathe, rolling my hips against him.
“Fuck.” The word comes out strangled as he grinds back against me. “Sadie, you’re killing me.”
His hands find the hem of my sweater, sliding underneath to trace patterns on the heated skin of my waist. Everywhere he touches burns.
“Please,” I gasp when his thumb brushes the underside of my breast through my bra.
“Please what?” But his voice is rough with want, and his touch grows bolder.
“Touch me. I need—” The words dissolve into a moan when he finally cups my breast fully, thumb finding my nipple through the thin fabric.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my throat. “Let me take care of you.”
His mouth trails down my neck while his hands work magic through my clothes. When he finds my pulse point and sucks gently, I cry out and buck against him, desperate for more friction.
“You’re so responsive,” he says with satisfaction. “So perfect.”
I’m dimly aware that we’re on the floor of my flower shop, surrounded by festival planning materials and empty Chinese food containers. But all I can focus on is Caleb’s hands on my skin, his mouth working magic on my throat.
“Caleb,” I gasp when his hand slides lower, tracing the waistband of my jeans.
