Page 120 of Pin My Alpha
“Yeah.”
He lifts me like I weigh nothing.
My laugh comes out startled and a little breathless as he sets me on the edge of the nearest table, then turns and sits in the chair beside it. He drags me straight into his lap, my back pressed to his chest, my thighs falling open over his.
“Bossy tonight,” he murmurs against my ear.
“Co-owner,” I correct him.
“Mm. That’s right.”
His hand slides under my shirt, palm flattening against my stomach. I shiver, leaning back into him because there’s no point pretending I’m unaffected when my whole body knows him now. Knows the solid line of him behind me. The warm scrape of his beard. The low sound he makes when I squirm in his lap.
The almost-touch of his fingers just below my waistband is worse than if he’d already shoved them inside my shorts. I can feel exactly how many inches separate his fingertips from where I want them, and the gap feels charged, electric. My cock twitches, already filling, and a helpless bead of slick slips out of me at the thought of those thick fingers sliding lower. I imagine them pressing inside me while he holds me open on his lap, that steady voice in my ear telling me how wet I already am for him.
Outside, somebody yells. Jude, probably. A burst of laughter follows.
The door stays shut.
Declan presses his mouth to my mark, and every thought in my head goes soft around the edges.
“You want this?” he asks quietly.
I turn my face enough to look at him.
His eyes are steady. Always steady.
Even now. Even when he’s hard against me and I’m already warm and restless in his lap, when the bar is empty and our friends are one door away and he can probably read my mind from the way my scent has gone sweet.
He still asks.
I used to hear questions like that as an escape hatch. A chance to prove I could leave.
Now I hear them for what they are.
A choice.
“Yeah,” I say. “I want this.”
His hand tightens on my waist.
“Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”
I smile, because I’m still me. I’m still allowed to be impossible.
“I want you to stop talking like you’ve got all night.”
Declan’s laugh is low and rough. “We’ve got maybe ten minutes before Jude sends a search party.”
“Then we should be efficient.”
“You say that like you’ve ever been efficient with me.”
“Rude.”
He kisses me again, swallowing the word, and then there’s nothing efficient about it.
It’s fast. Familiar. A messy tangle of hands and half-whispered swearing, my shirt shoved up, his mouth hot at my neck. I reach behind me, grab at him, and he groans into my shoulder.
