17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

-Reese-

I couldn’t determine if our meeting was progressing positively or not, but an undeniable anger seemed to grip Naomi.

“Perhaps this is enough for our first date,” she suggested, intending to pull away from me. However, I caught hold of her arm, halting her movement.

“We’ve barely spent 20 minutes together,” I pointed out.

“And it’s not exactly going smoothly, is it?” she countered.

I sighed, shaking my head. “If I’ve made you uncomfortable, I apologize. But we need to spend more time together. 20 minutes won’t suffice.”

“I’m not sure hours will be enough to understand what’s going on!” she stated. “I mean, I’m sure mates don’t even wait hours before mating. Maybe that should be our solution to figuring it out.”

I drew back, shocked by her suggestion, but she quickly began shaking her head.

“N-No, that was a joke,” she quickly added. Yet, my hand was still grasping her arm, and my head began filling with thoughts of having Naomi beneath me or on top of me, riding me until she cried out in release.

A dark rumble left me, causing her to stumble back a little, but I brought her closer, ensuring she couldn’t take off. She didn’t seem frightened as I drew her near, leaving only inches between us. The tension rose, leaving us slightly panting. This was very akin to being mates. The proximity was enough to make us want to lose ourselves in each other.

But there were no words being shouted in my head. I felt undeniably aroused by her presence, and yet neither of us reached for the other. We just stood there, gazing at each other, feeling the moment stretch on, yet no awkwardness arose. It was filled with electric energy that seemed on the verge of exploding.

“Maybe we should,” I murmured, momentarily lost in a flurry of images—teasing Naomi until she begged for more. I pondered what she might taste like before shaking my head, reminding myself that rushing into bed with her wouldn’t solve anything.

Slowly, I released her, feeling a chill creep over me in the absence of her warmth. Her eyes blinked rapidly, mirroring the bewildering sensation, and our gazes locked.

“Do you feel that?” I inquired.

She nodded slowly. “It’s... cold,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Very cold,” I agreed, observing my hand, which seemed almost numb from the icy sensation that enveloped it. Without hesitation, I extended it toward her.

She regarded it with confusion before meeting my eyes. “Try holding it,” I suggested.

“Hold... your hand?” she repeated, uncertainty lacing her tone.

“Yes, just try. I want to see what happens.”

She hesitated, but eventually, she reached out with both hands. They were much smaller than mine, and she enveloped my hand from top to bottom. A shiver coursed through my body, so intense that it prompted her to step back, releasing me.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked, concern evident in her voice.

“Do it again,” I commanded, ignoring her question.

“Are you sure?”

“It didn’t hurt,” I reassured her, though uncertainty lingered in her expression. Nonetheless, she drew closer, encircling both of her hands around mine. Another shiver rippled through me, but this time, I was prepared. She held on tightly, and gradually, warmth seeped into my skin, banishing the cold and quickening my heartbeat.

The sensation was almost dizzying, yet I found myself reluctant to let go. Slowly, I curled my fingers around hers, eliciting a gasp from her. We remained intertwined, enchanted by the simple yet profound connection between us. Our eyes met, searching for answers, but beyond an intense sensation coursing through me, nothing stood out. Still, I had no desire to release her.

“This feels...” she began, her words trailing off as she struggled to articulate her thoughts. Yet, a hint of fear crept into her expression, and she attempted to withdraw her hand. Instinctively, I tightened my grip, refusing to let her go.

“Don’t let go,” I implored.

“I don’t think this will give us any answers.”

“It seems to,” I acknowledged.

“Yeah? What does it tell you?”

“It tells me... It tells me that I enjoy your touch,” I confessed, recognizing the necessity of transparency if we were to unravel the mysteries between us.

“I-I…”

“I like it, and I know you do too,” I asserted with confidence.

“Maybe a little,” she offered weakly.

“No, a lot,” I insisted, sensing her undeniable response as her sweet scent filled the room.

“I...”

Drawing her closer, I saw her stumble slightly, as if hesitating to embrace the proximity. My free hand gently cradled her jaw, and the moment our skin met, we both gasped. The intensity of the connection was growing, igniting a newfound desire within me—a craving to kiss her. I began to stroke her jaw, watching as her eyelids fluttered closed, her expression awash with bliss. The realization that I could evoke such a profound reaction from her filled me with a sense of power. Yet, despite the allure of her lips, I hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. A primal growl escaped me, snapping her out of our trance-like state as she pulled away, creating distance between us.

“It seems something is happening,” I murmured.

“I haven’t poisoned you,” she muttered, avoiding my gaze.

“No, I know,” I assured her, but her continued avoidance hinted at lingering hurt from my previous accusations. I empathized with her anger. Being falsely accused always left a bitter taste.

“Listen, little mate,” I began, seeking to bridge the growing divide between us.

“W-What?” she stammered, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“What?” I echoed, perplexed by her sudden bewilderment.

“You called me ‘mate’,” she pointed out.

Had I? I hadn’t even realized. I shrugged nonchalantly. “You might be.”

“But until we confirm it, maybe you shouldn’t call me that,” she suggested, her arms folding defensively.

“I think it suits you well. Or shall I call you ‘little wolf’ instead?” I teased, attempting to lighten the mood.

“I think I prefer my name:”

I nodded, respecting her preference, yet I couldn’t shake the desire to address her with something endearing, something that captured her essence. As our interaction progressed, I found myself growing more eager to delve deeper into our connection. Yet outside the room, the house began to buzz with activity, drawing our attention.

We exchanged a glance before she spoke, “I think you should join them. I have my duties anyway.”

“You can postpone them for a while,” I insisted, sensing her reluctance.

“I can’t. It’s my job,” she reminded me firmly.

“Then just prepare food for the two of us. You’ll still be serving the Alpha of the house,” I proposed, hoping to prolong our time together.

“I really can’t, Alpha Reese,” she maintained. “This is my responsibility. It would complicate matters if people thought you favored me.”

“I need more time with you,” I admitted, the desperation evident in my voice. I hadn’t intended to sound so needy, but the thought of having only 30 minutes with her felt insufficient. What could we discern from such a short interaction?

“I have my duties,” she repeated, her gaze downcast. I felt a pang of disappointment, wishing she would prioritize our connection more. Yet she turned away, signaling the premature end of our date.