Page 30 of The Mating Game
“I know exactly what I’m doing,” I purr, using a voice I have absolutely never used before. “If you’d let go of me.”
“Tess,” he says more firmly, but I detect the strain there. “I’m not touching you. Not when you’re like this.”
“That’s okay,” I hum. “I can just touch you.”
He groans, a noise that from here sounds painful.
Me too, buddy.
“Tess,” he rasps, his voice suddenly sounding tortured. “I can’t.”
And as if my body seems to get the message, realizing it won’t be getting what it wants, the cramps return with full force, threatening to cut my knees out from under me with how much it hurts. I cry out as I wobble, and Hunter’s arms are there, holding me close so I don’t fall. It feels so nice I don’t fight the urge to nuzzle into his sternum.
“Hurts,” I say again, sounding small and pathetic all of a sudden.
“Shh,” he soothes. “I know it does. I’m sorry.”
“Can’t you just touch me?”
I don’t even know how Iknowthat he can help me, but I do. I fucking know it. Why won’t he help me?
“No, omega,” he says forcefully, his tone making me shiver. “I’m not going to touch you.”
I can feel tears welling in my eyes, and distantly I know that tomorrow, I’m going to be really embarrassed by that. Now, though, all I care about is the fact that Hunter is seemingly going to abandon me to my predicament.
I look up at him with tears clinging to my lashes, and the pain I find in his features, the intensity there—it makes me wonder if I’m not the only one suffering. His thumb strokes my cheek, and I lean into the touch, begging him without words for more. When I turn my face to lick at the pad, the sound of his sharp intake of breath washes over me.
“Don’t cry,” he says soothingly, his expression gaining resolve as he brushes the hair from my face.
“Hurts,” I say again.
He holds my face in his hands, staring into my eyes with a look of resolve and maybe even regret. At any other time, I would be wary of that look.
“I’ll help you,” he says softly.
I blink back at him, trying to register what he’s said. “You will?”
“I will,” he promises. His expression takes on a hard edge. “But I’m not going to touch you.”
I frown at this, because I don’t see how he can do one without the other, but before I can question it, he’s gathering me up in his arms. He kicks the door shut as he pulls me into his embrace like I’m some sort of princess, and I cling to him for dear life as he carries me to his bed, my needy body thrilled by this development.
But then he sits with his back to the headboard, situating me until I’m cradled between his legs with my back touching his front. His arms go around my middle as if anchoring me, and his cheek presses to my throat, his nose following after it as he breathes in.
“I’m going to give you my scent,” he tells me. “It will help. Okay?”
I’m nodding vigorously, not even entirely sure what he’s referring to but wanting whatever it is that he’s willing to give.
I feel the prick of his beard against the delicate tissue of my throat as he pulls me tighter, and only seconds later it gives way tohis clean-shaven neck, the skin sliding against mine in a way that, for whatever reason,lights me the fuck up.
“Oh.”
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “That’s good.”
The guttural quality that his voice has taken on makes my pussy throb even harder, and I swear to all that’s holy, if he asked me to get down on my knees for him right this second, I wouldn’t hesitate.
“I know it hurts,” he hums. “I’ve got you.”
I nod, whimpering when he rubs his throat across mine again.
