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But Serena’s smile softens into a distinctly fond face. “You’re surprised,” she says quietly, then grins again. “That just makes me like you even more, actually.”
Before I can attempt to process that impossibility, her little hand grazes my cheek. I stiffen, some blend of shock and apprehension skittering down my back.
I can’t remember the last time a person touched my face. And once my mind tells my body there’s no reason to fear, it feels…
It feels…
I grasp her wrist carefully this time.
“I can’t do that,” I tell her. “Not yet. But there are other things we can try.”
A way to learn her body and give her what she needs. Test her limits and my control.
Because I may not have wanted a mate, but based on the way my body burns for hers? I have one. And every instinct urges me to show her.
Her teeth sink into her lower lip. Those clever green eyes dip to the floor, shy, but more perfume gives her away. The luscious scent swells and brightens. I inhale roughly, a growl rumbling behind my sternum.
It’s ironic. Jonah and Avery have both fucked more women than I ever cared to count. Tristan is well-known in certain circles for his sexual proficiency.
But I’m an omega expert.
And, in the way of any true “expert,” my knowledge is vast and largely theoretical. Sure, I took the time in my twenties to put some of it to good use—always at heat clinics, with strangers, where I knew no one would try to touch me back. None of it was ever done in a real-world setting, though.
Most of it seems to be working so far. The dim lighting, the warm water. The way I stroked her hair. Those are all tried-and-true omega-taming tactics.
I have many more I can show her.
But only if she can keep her hands off me.
Small and wet, with her eyes cast down, she looks like the perfect little supplicant. My Alpha claws at my insides. Wanting to taste her. Sink her onto our knot. Fill her until our scents meld together.
“Come,” I order, waving her into my room. “I’m going to teach you.”
chapter
thirty-six
There’s a desperate surge my middle.
Panic?
No, it’s too… solid.
Urgency, maybe.
I can’t decide if it’s mine or if Tristan has accidentally let himself through, but I decide to take it as my own.
When I step out of Spencer’s bathroom and into his dark, pristine bedroom, a slow, heated wave of need rushes up my abdomen. Frothing against my insides until familiar tingles race down the backs of my thighs.
Spencer holds himself with a controlled, condescending air. But his nostrils flare wide, his chest heaving on every breath.
And his eyes burn, bottomless.
“You want a lesson?” he husks, looking down his nose at me. “Can you control yourself?”
He wants to know if I can keep from touching him. Considering my sexual experience is pretty much limited to what Jonah and Avery have done with me—neither of which like for me to keep my hands to myself—I don’t really know how difficult that will be.
But I do know one thing: after working at the club, I will never be the kind of person who touches someone if they don’t want me to.
