Page 27 of Knot Forever

“Yes, Marcus?”

“I’d really like a hug now.”

I think my heart just melted. “Okay. Tell me if you don’t like this, okay? We can try something else.”

Instead of responding, he opens his arms and raises his eyebrow at me. Biting my cheek, I take a step, and then another, stepping into his space and winding my arms slowly around his neck. I’m concentrating so hard on keeping my touch just right that I startle when his arms wrap around me, pulling me into him. “Oh!”

“Too much?” Marcus rumbles. My head is pressed into his neck, straight against that delicious crook that smells irresistibly likeMarcus. Clean, fresh, crisp cotton. Despite myself, I can’t resist burying my nose in him and taking a deep sniff.

His hand lands against my neck, pressing just enough for me to feel safe.

“Marcus,” I croak against him. “You give really good hugs.”

I can’t see his face, but I can feel the smile in his words. “I do?”

“Mmm.” I sigh, taking another sniff. “The best hugs. You can hug me anytime.”

His arms tighten a fraction, pressing my whole body into him. One arm is wrapped against my lower back, the other pressed between my spine with his fingers curled around my neck.

“I like hugging you,” he murmurs, turning his head. I can feel his breath against my hair. “You smell like almonds. I like that.”

I laugh quietly. “I’ll have to make you cherry bakewells.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a kind of cake. Our old housekeeper was British, and she taught me how to make them. They taste like almonds.”

“I like cake,” he says decisively. “I’d like to try your bakewells.”

“Then I’ll make them.” His arms drop away, and I back off, giving him some space. He looks at the clock, and then back at me.

“Go on,” I murmur with a smile.

Looking relieved, he hops down from his chair. “I’ll see you later?”

“Definitely.” As he leaves, I catch sight of Asher in the hallway. He mutters something to Marcus as he moves past, but Marcus doesn’t stop, tossing a comment over his shoulder before he disappears out of sight and I hear the door of his office click shut.

Shifting on my feet, I wait as Asher stalks into the kitchen, his eyes scanning me and taking in the plates.

“I made Marcus a BLT,” I blurt. “But he likes subs. So I ate it. Do you want a BLT?”

His lips curve. “No, thank you. I’m not hungry for that.”

For that? What does that mean?

Asher moves across the kitchen, pausing in front of me. “I thought we could go and get you some things.”

“Some things?” His scent is strong today, wrapping me up in coffee and crisp, winter mornings until I feel a little dizzy as I try to work out what he means.

“You have no nesting things, Nova,” he says, his voice rumbling. “I saw your bags. You’re not going to be comfortable here until you have one, so that’s where we’re going.”

I blink. That’s the last thing I expected him to say.

But now he’s mentioned it, the familiar itch for enclosed spaces and soft materials tugs at me. No wonder I was so happy rubbing against Marcus’s shirt. My mother wouldn’t have taken anything from my nest at home, so I’m starting from scratch.

And since I’m no longer taking suppressants, my heat could kick in at any time.

Shit.

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