Page 31 of Knot The Nanny We Planned

I press a kiss to her inner thigh. Then the other. Then I stand, slowly, because my knees are aching and my cock is throbbing and I'm so hard it hurts, and I pull her jeans back up, button them, and smooth her shirt down.

She opens her eyes. "Deklan." Her voice is destroyed. Raw. "That was…"

"Not a placeholder," I finish. "Not a function. Not a body."

Her eyes fill with tears, but different this time. Not grief. Not fear. Something softer. Something warm.

"Home," she whispers.

I frame her face in my hands and press my forehead to hers. "Home."

We stand like that in the darkened room while Lily sleeps. The city hums below us. And for the first time in six months, the empty space behind my ribs feels like it might be filling.

I pull back, find a tissue on the nightstand, and hand it to her. She laughs, a wet, shaky sound, and wipes her eyes.

"You're a mess," I say and the ghost of a smile tugs at my mouth.

"You made me a mess." She blows her nose. "On purpose."

"I did."

She looks at me, really looks at me, the way nobody has since Mara. Like she's seeing past the glasses, the scowl, and the spreadsheet brain to the person underneath. The scared kid. The grieving brother. The man who just knelt on a floor and tasted heaven.

"Deklan?"

"Yeah."

"What Serena said, about you guys getting bored, about the match fading…"

"Won't happen." I say it with absolute certainty. Not because I'm naive, not because I'm ignoring the possibility, but because I know what I felt. I know what JD felt. I know what Knox felt. "The match with her was a spark. With you, it's a bonfire. It's not going to fade, Willow. If anything, it's going to burn us alive."

She laughs. A real laugh. Quiet, but real. "That's the most romantic thing a man has ever said to me. And I think it included a threat of spontaneous combustion."

"I'm a strategist. I deal in probabilities."

"What's the probability of this working?"

I consider. "Low, statistically speaking. Three men, one omega, a toddler, and a population of emotional issues that would keep a therapist in business for decades."

"Deklan."

"But I've never trusted statistics." I reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "And I trust this. I trust you."

She catches my hand and holds it. Presses her lips to my knuckles, a gesture so gentle it makes my throat tight.

"Thank you," she says. "For showing me."

"Anytime." I manage a smirk. "Literally anytime. I'm available. My calendar is surprisingly flexible."

She laughs again, and the sound is warmer this time. Brighter. The honey and vanilla in her scent have returned, sweet and clean, the fear and doubt burned away.

I want to kiss her. The urge is so strong it's almost physical, a pull in my chest, a tightness in my throat. I want to press my mouth to hers and taste her laughter and feel her smile against my lips.

But I don't. Not because I don't want to, but because I want it too much. Because a kiss from me right now, in this room, in this moment, would mean something I'm not ready to name. And Willow deserves more than a Beta who doesn't know how to express himself.

She deserves everything.

"I should go," I say. "JD and Knox are probably combusting out there."