Page 22 of Fourth Base with the Alpha

My eyebrows leap up my forehead and she lifts her hand to her mouth. “Ewww, no. We’d practice on our hands or on our pillows.”

I chuckle. “You practiced kissing on your pillow?”

“You can laugh, Mr Larsson. But it now means I am an expert.”

I lick my lips. My mouth is no longer dry. It’s watering at the prospect.

“Okay,” I tell her.

“Right …”

We stare at each other.

“Should I count us down or …” she asks.

“You’re the expert,” I remind her.

“It’s just you’re very tall.” Her gaze lingers on my mouth. “Could you come a little closer?”

I bend my neck, lowering my mouth towards hers and she lifts up onto her toes, fisting my shirt to keep her balance.

I can taste her breath in my mouth, sweet and minty, like she brushed her teeth.

“Ready?” I ask, my voice low and husky.

“Yes,” she says in a voice that sounds slightly out of breath.

I close the space between us, my hands gripping her waist.

I close my eyes.

And feel my nose knock against hers.

I snap my head back.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

“That’s okay,” she giggles. “Should we try again? Maybe if you tilt to the left, and I tilt to the right ...”

I tilt my head like she instructs, but she tilts the same way and it’s obvious we’re going to bump heads.

“Or perhaps both tilt left–”

Fuck this.

I lean in and press my lips against hers, kissing her so hard I feel her inhale. I pull her in closer, gliding my lips over hers, tasting her flavor. Her fingers tighten in my shirt and I have to stop myself from sliding my hands down and squeezing that ass.

She kisses me back and I have to smile, because damn it, she is a good kisser, teasing me with her lips. I want to taste her properly, nibble on her lips, suck on her tongue. But I hold back, remembering our agreement, remembering that this isn’t real. It’s fake.

After a minute, I force myself away, staggering backwards as I catch my breath again.

When I open my eyes, I find her cheeks are all flushed and her pupils dilated. And she smells … wet. Fuck. I guess it’s no surprise, she is an omega. She probably gets wet kissing any old alpha. It’s an instinctual reaction as old as time.

She adjusts the neckline of her dress that slipped slightly revealing the curve of her tits.

“Yes, well …” she murmurs. “If we just remember to tilt to the left, I think we’ll be fine.”

My gaze drops to her lips.