Page 153 of The Rust in Her Hair

"Do that again," he growls softly.

"Do what?"

"Laugh." He presses his forehead to mine. "I felt that everywhere."

I giggle again, smiling so wide my face is starting to hurt.

"You know, I'm not a religious man," he says, his gaze dragging down my body. "But if there’s a force in this universe that all goodness comes from, it's this body."

I press my finger to the cross inked over his heart and trace the length of it. "This says otherwise."

His mouth curves. "Reformed Catholic." He catches my hand and flattens it against the tattoo, holding it there. "Gave up the church a long time ago. These days the only thing I want to get on my knees and worship is this perfect pussy right here."

My face warms suddenly feeling a little shy under those intense eyes. Ducking my head, a giggle slips out, and I feel his cock twitch inside me.

"There she goes again," he growls, that rare smirk pulling at his mouth. "Doing the Lord's work." He tips my chin back up and kisses me again, slow and deep.

"Mm. My very own devout alpha." I smile into the kiss. "I think I’d like to see you on your knees.”

"Don't tempt me." His voice drops, rough and warm against my mouth. "I'd love nothing more than to spend the whole damn day worshipping between those pretty thighs.” He kisses me once more, slow. “But sadly, we have things to do.”

I frown as he shifts and I feel his knot finally starting to go down. The pressure inside me eases, and a moment later he draws out of me slow and careful, one big hand cupped low on my belly like he's steadying me.

Then the alpha scoops me right off the counter.

I yelp and grab his shoulders as he carries me down the hall like I don't weigh a thing, into the little bathroom with the pale yellow tile. He sets me on my feet, reaches into the shower, and cranks the water on.

I pout. "I don't want to clean up yet."

"That right?" He kisses the tip of my nose.

"I like being messy." I fold my arms, pushing my breasts out. His dark eyes fall to them, and I bite my bottom lip. "I like walking around all day full of you."

Nico groans low and drags a hand down his beard. "Woman, you cannot say things like that and expect me to walk out this door."

"Then don't." I wrap one hand around his semi-hard cock, pulling him to me.

I’m taking desperation to a whole new level, but I just don’t care.

"Omega." His voice drops in warning, though his eyes are still dark on me. "We left that kitchen looking like a crime scene, and you know how Adrian gets. He’ll kill me if he comes home to that mess." He presses a kiss to my forehead. "Clean up. I'll deal with the evidence."

I stick my tongue out at him. He grins and pulls the door most of the way shut behind him.

The water's perfect, hot and steady, and I duck my head under it and let it run down my back. I reach between my legs to clean up the mess Nico left, and that's when it hits me.

A cramp, low and deep in my belly, a dull pulling ache that curls in and fades.

I go still, one hand on the tile.

Shit.

It comes again, softer this time, a strange heavy warmth low in my gut. I press a palm flat against my stomach and wait it out. While I wish it was my heat, that’s not due for another few weeks. This has to be from stress. Lord knows there's been enough of it in my life lately.

My father, Crispin, the party, the whole life I upended. It would make sense for my body to be a little out of sorts.

I finish rinsing off, shut the water down, then dry off. And that’s when I hear the front door.

Light footsteps move through the living room. Owen.