Page 45 of Knot what I want for Christmas
I nod and head up to my bedroom where I spread out all my new crocheting equipment on the bed and start searching the internet for crocheting instruction videos, except before I know it, I’m searching for videos of men swinging axes and chopping wood instead, because I can’t get that image out of my mind, and I can’t get that chocolate fudge scent of Clay’s out of my nose either, and I definitely can’t get the feel of his lips on mine and his hand in my hair from my memory either.
I flop back on the bed.
I’m in trouble, real trouble.
Am I catching feelings for Clay Jackson? Am I catching feelings for his pack mates too? Or maybe this is just a severe case of the hornies. After all, it’s been a long time since I got laid. Perhaps, a little light relief is all I need. Take the edge off all these hormones racing around my body and then I’ll be back on an even keel and the three hot Alphas striding around this ranch will have no effect on me at all.
I make sure I’ve locked the bedroom door after myself and then I switch off my phone. I don’t need any of those videos. I have one I can play in my own head. I slide my hand into my panties and touch myself and then, with that image of Clay Jackson swinging his axe, and the memory of his lips pressed against mine, I make myself come.
Chapter Fifteen
Tucker
I’m washing up in the bathroom when I hear the cabin door slam open and shut and footsteps stomp across the floor. I recognize them immediately – Clay – and by the volume of those stomps I can tell that something’s clearly wrong.
I sling a clean T-shirt over my head and go out to investigate, finding him pacing in the kitchen.
“What’s up, man?” I say, heading to the fridge to hook out two bottles of beer. I snap off the lids and pass one to him.
He’s still pacing, and he ignores the outstretched beer.
“Damn it!” he mutters. “Damn, damn, damn.”
Now I’m concerned. I take a step backwards in alarm. “What the fuck, Clay? What the fuck is wrong? Is it the cattle? Is it one of the horses?”
“I kissed Hollie Bright,” he says, not pausing in his pacing.
It takes several seconds for those words to compute. That was not what I was expecting him to say, nor does it account for this stress-head behavior.
“You kissed the Omega?” I say, flopping down into the nearest chair and taking a swig of my beer. “I’m taking it she didn’t approve of that action? Did you get a slap around the face? A berating from Annie?”
“Me? No. No, actually, she…” He stops pacing and rubs his hand over his face. “She kissed me back.”
“In a felt-obliged-to-do-so manner, or in a sucking-your-soul-from-your-body kind of manner?”
“It wasn’t long enough for any soul-sucking,” he says, “but it was definitely more toward that end.”
“Wow! Clay, man, this is great news!”
He drops his hand away from his face and looks at me aghast. “No, it’s not. This is the worst.”
I can’t help chuckling. “How is this the worst? You kissed a girl you like. The girl obviously likes you back because she kissed you too.”
“I don’t like her,” he snaps automatically.
“Oh, come on, man,” I say. “You’re crazy about her. It’s written all over your face. And I know your scent well, Clay Jackson. I’ve known you since the second day of kindergarten. I know when you like a girl. I can read it in your scent.”
“Fine,” he snaps. “I like her. Doesn’t mean she likes me back. And also, if you’ve happened to forget, she’s Annie’s best friend.”
“So what?” I say.
“My parents really care about her.”
“That’s a good thing, Clay. Imagine if they hated her.”
“I can’t afford to fuck things up.”
“Who says you’re going to fuck things up?”
