Page 6 of Pin My Alpha
My voice comes out rough. “I live upstairs. If you mean it.”
A short, bitter laugh escapes him. “You’re giving me an out?”
“Just making sure.”
His gaze drops to my mouth, then flicks back up. He takes a step forward, right into my space. I can feel the heat coming off his skin. “And if I didn’t?”
“Then I’d still be locking up.”
He sucks in a sharp breath. For a second, he just stares, his eyes wide. Then he rolls his shoulders back, pulling his armor tight around him again. “It’s an apartment over a bar, not a fucking castle.”
“Got a mattress and a lock on the door,” I say. “It’ll do.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. Not a smile, not quite. “Take me upstairs, Byrne.”
There it is. The end of pretending this wasn’t going to happen.
I take his hand without another word. The skin of his palm is soft, callused at the tips of his fingers. Shay glances down at our joined hands like he’s not sure how they got there, his expression open for just a second before his fingers tighten around mine.
The back door clicks shut behind us. The stairwell is cool, smelling of old brick, dust, and the faint lemon cleaner Tessa uses. My keys jingle once in my other hand as I start for the stairs.
We make it two steps up before his body is pressed flush against my back. I stop.
His hands slide around my waist, fingers gripping the fabric of my Henley. Then his mouth is on my neck. Hot. Just the damp pressure of it, no kiss. His scent floods the space between us—dark chocolate and rain going sweet with heat. It gets in my lungs, goes straight to the base of my skull. My free hand finds the wall, mostly to hold myself up. I can feel his breath on the skin right over my pulse.
“Shay,” I manage.
He hums against my throat, a low vibration that I feel all the way down my spine. “What?”
I turn on the step. He’s one below me now, which brings us nearly eye to eye. He looks up at me with that same furious, reckless expression he wore at the bar, like he’s daring me to find the part of him that’s hurting.
I cup his face in my hand. His lips part on a sharp inhale. My thumb finds the corner of his mouth, feeling the tension there. “Tell me you want this.”
“Then kiss me.”
I do.
It isn’t careful. His mouth is demanding, his tongue sliding against mine like he’s trying to win something. I give him a second to set the pace. Maybe two. Then I put one hand on his lower back, the other tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck, and kiss him until the fight drains out of him and a low sound breaks in his throat.
He shoves at my chest, but it’s not to push me away. “Move,” he says against my mouth. “Before I decide to do something indecent on your tetanus-trap stairs.”
A laugh breaks out of me. I feel Shay go completely still.
That small, surprised hitch in his breath does something sharp and unfamiliar to my insides.
I hook an arm under his knees and just pick him up.
“Fuck,” Shay says into my shoulder, his arms locking around my neck as I lift him. “Declan, what are you—I meant walk.”
“I am walking.” I take the stairs two at a time.
“This isn’t—” He breaks off with a grunt when I pin him lightly against the brick wall of the stairwell, just to get a better grip. His thighs tighten around my waist instinctively. He’s all lean muscle and surprising weight, and the solid reality of him in my arms sends a jolt straight through me.
My hips press into his. He’s already hard. So am I. The seam of his jeans grinds against me, and the air goes thick with his scent. Sharp, sweet, and coming right from where his thighs meet my ribs, soaking into the fabric of my shirt.
I bury my face in his neck, breathing it in. “You’re soaked for me,” I mutter against his skin.
His head falls back against the wall with a soft thud. “Don’t sound so fucking pleased with yourself.”
