Page 8 of Knot Alone

“Scent is good.” He continues, like the biology is what I’m confused about. “But active pheromone presence is better.”

“Active pheromone presence?” I try not to laugh at his phrasing.

But it stops being funny when Linus shrugs and holds up those two damn fingers and wiggles. “Or.” Then he touches those two fingers to his plush lips and my brain whites out.

“You don’t like sex,” I murmur, all my focus on his mouth.

Linus tilts down just enough that I don’t have to move to see those beautiful eyes. “With people. You’re not people.”

Chapter Three

Linus

I know the words are true the moment I say them.

Maggie isn’t people. She’s Maggie.

Somehow, my inner Alpha has prioritized her right up there with Graham. I don’t know how in the hell it happened, but it has. To me, most people’s scents range from ‘eh’ to downright foul. But Maggie’s scent of tart fruit bursting from the bush makes me struggle to keep my erection to myself.

For the second time in my life, I want someone.

Ten minutes after I met Graham, I skipped class and dragged him into a campus bathroom. We rutted against one another like the inexperienced teenager I was. Now, I’m perilously close to doing the same thing with Maggie. Only in the comfortable privacy of the Center and with a decade more experience.

But I’m an adult now, not an 18-year-old who just figured out what his dick is for. Also, Maggie’s breathing is shallow as her body comes back from the unexpected pain. So, I try to pull away, to give her the space that she clearly prefers. But one sharp breath says my touch shouldn’t go anywhere. I drag Maggie into my arms, almost out of her chair and onto my lap.

“You’re going to be all right.”

Her small hands half-claw into my suit jacket, clearly wanting to grasp but trying not to. I want to wrap my hands around hers and tell her to dig in, but I am an adult. So, I rest my free hand—ever so softly—on her back and trace up and down her spine with long strokes that shouldn’t arouse me at all.

I’ve already offered to give her an orgasm. There’s no reason to say it again. Maggie knows I meant it. Instead, I stay quiet and comforting while Maggie’s breathing slows. With her face still buried in the safety of my throat, Maggie doesn’t beat around the bush. “Why?”

‘Because you’re mine.’ I bite my tongue to keep from saying. ‘Because you’re hurting’ isn’t right, because it’s only partly true and not the way I want to begin. But how honest do I want to be?

Fuck. I’ve taken too long. Maggie is pulling back. “Because I want to.” Comes spilling out.

“What?” she asks my jaw.

“You’re beautiful. And you’re hurting. And I don’t want you to hurt. And you… you smell like raspberries and almonds.” That’s the politest way I can think to say that I want to taste her.

Maggie nuzzles her face against my throat, her lips brushing the thin, vulnerable skin. “You smell like chocolate and nutmeg.”

That’s just as vague as my statement. It’s ambiguous enough that I can pretend we’re just talking about soothing scents and not that she sounds hungry in a way that makes my cock stand up and take notice. Without thought, my strokes down her back have ventured damn close to the curve of her ass. I stop myself before I keep going.

Maggie’s breath deepens, slow and steady, like she’s making a choice.

She arches her back, lifting her ass in a call to touch.

I am a grown man, not a lust-drunk college student, but her scent is like home. I’m afraid her arousal will be stuck in my brain forever, haunting me until I die.

But I’m not an Alpha who’ll touch without permission, no matter how much blood has left my brain for my dick. I have almost no experience with wanting someone like this, but I know enough not to take advantage. I want to eat her out. I want to get her off. I want her to come on my tongue so I can carry her taste home on my lips and share it with Graham. But I’m not—I won’t—

“Can I kiss you?” I ask. I blush at how stupidly juvenile that sounds. Graham would probably have her balanced on the desk with his head between her thighs already.

Well… damn. Just when I thought I couldn’t get harder, that visual gets me there.

For all I’m out of my depth, Maggie seems to appreciate the sincerity. With a soft smile against my skin, she says yes.

Right.

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