Page 12 of Knottily Ever After (Crescent Lake Cozy Omegaverse #1)

Chapter Twelve

Ben

A fter a half-shift at the tattoo shop, I came home to an empty apartment, showered, threw on sweatpants and a tank top, and ransacked the fridge for leftovers. When I come up with nothing, I smack my forehead.

I’d forgotten that we all ate the leftovers yesterday.

Time to order delivery.

As I scroll through my Foo-D app, the front door opens, revealing Violet, her auburn hair swaying from the door's movement.

“Hey,” she calls with a smile as she approaches, placing her purse on the counter.

“Hey yourself,” I rumble, then clear my throat. She is, as always, a vision that steals my breath. “I was about to order dinner delivery. Would you like anything?”

She nods vigorously. “Please,” she says. “I was downstairs with Vaughn and Quinn for hours. I haven’t eaten since lunch.”

“Are they coming up?”

“No. They’re both working tonight. Something about Vaughn’s help having to call in, and Quinn helping out because the backup was busy.”

Lloyd was probably busy helping his pack with the repairs to Lilly’s shop. He’d told me that they wanted to get the storefront up and running again as soon as possible. Lilly had been beyond devastated by the damage and having to close shop.

“All right, what are you in the mood for?”

“It may be a long shot, but is there good Chinese takeout nearby? I’m really craving that.”

I can’t help but smile. “I know just the place.”

I text Vaughn and Quinn to ask if they want anything from Wei Wok, our absolute favorite Chinese food takeout joint, owned by a lovely pack and their family just outside of town.

They both give me their orders as Violet chooses her dishes. I plug in what I want and send off the order with a hefty tip for both the store and the delivery driver.

Violet puts her things away in her room and comes back to the living room wearing flowing pink pajama pants and a camisole so tight I have to clench my jaw to keep it from dropping to the floor.

Her red bra peeks from under the thin spaghetti straps of her black top, the swell of her breasts peeks from the low neckline.

Is she trying to kill me?

I let out a long breath as the realization hits that I am in deep shit.

“Want to watch some TV?” I ask, voice strained.

“Sure!” She enthusiastically claps her hands and bounces over to the couch, all the while moving on the balls of her feet.

Did she move like that the other night at dinner? I don’t remember her being this bubbly. Not that there’s anything wrong with bubbly.

I follow her to the couch, keeping the center cushion between us. I grab the remote from the coffee table and look to my right where Violet sits. “What would you like to watch?”

“Oh,” she looks surprised. “You can choose. I don’t know what you guys have.”

I turn on the TV and walk her through the menu of all our streaming services, of which we subscribe to many. “No cable TV,” I tell her, “but we have some services with live TV channels, for local news. And our internet is fast.”

Violet nibbles on her bottom lip, and I force my gaze to the screen when she asks, “What kind of stuff do you like to watch?”

I press my lips together to stifle a smile.

I’ve been here before with guests, with women, but this doesn’t feel like Violet. I don’t know her very well, but I know she has opinions. Everyone does. I just need to coax them from her.

So, I lean back and select one of the services that offers on-demand TV series and movies, and start navigating through the different genres, choosing some things at random, watching her reactions.

Within the near-hour we wait for the food to arrive, I discover she isn’t a fan of sports or reality TV, but she loves adult animation, stand-up comedy, and true crime. She’s particularly drawn into one documentary when the buzzer from outside goes off.

“I’ll be right back,” I say as I rise to my feet.

“Need help?”

“It’s okay. Keep watching your show.”

I’m all smiles as I go downstairs and to the security driveway gate to get the food from the driver, and still grinning as I use my key to enter the security door and go through the brewery’s small kitchen area.

That’s where I put the bags of food down and pull out the containers Vaughn and Quinn ordered to place them on the counter.

Before I go back up to the apartment to Violet with our food, I push open the door into the bar to catch Vaughn’s eye and gesture to the kitchenette.

He gives me a small salute of thanks, and I leave.

The scent of the food has me salivating by the time I make it back upstairs to the kitchen counter and start unpacking everything.

Violet pauses her show and jogs over to help me. In no time, we’re back on the couch in front of the TV, containers and forks in hand, a serial killer documentary for entertainment.

About fifteen minutes in, Violet starts and whips her head around to look at me.

“I’m so sorry,” she says in a rush. “This is probably not what you’d consider dinner viewing material.

I’ll change it.” She reaches for the remote between us, and I put my hand on hers to stop the movement.

My heart lurches, and her big eyes blink up at me.

“Leave it,” I tell her, my voice rough. I find it difficult to breathe. When I realize my hand is still on hers, I pull away despite my body’s protestation. “I enjoy this stuff, too.” I pat my middle. “I’ve got a strong stomach, anyway.”

The giggle she emits is life. My life.

Happy sounds are all I want to hear from her. Forever.

Food consumed, leftovers put away, we’d watched a great stand-up special for a bit over an hour, me relishing in Violet’s unapologetic laughter.

Afterward, we put on an animated series, and when her giggles die down, I look over to find her fast asleep.

She’s curled up against the arm of the couch, a knitted blanket wrapped around her, and she hugs it close to her chest like a plush toy.

Her breathing is even and calm, and I watch every movement of her body, the peaceful look on her beautiful face, for far longer than should be comfortable.

This connection I feel with Violet is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. It isn’t just that she’s gorgeous, lush, and smells like bliss. There’s this unseen pull—like a thread tethering us. I can’t quite describe it, but thinking of it makes me rub my chest absently.

I don’t watch her much longer before making a decision and rising from the couch. I bend in front of Violet and scoop her into my arms, blanket and all, lifting her until her head lolls to the side and rests on my shoulder.

I carry this precious woman to her room, carefully opening her door and gently placing her on top of her bed. She’s above the covers, but the blanket wrapped around her body should be warm enough. Even still, I take some of her extra pillows and settle them around her body, cocooning her.

When I finish, I can’t help my hand from smoothing her dark hair, pulling strands from her forehead, then leaning down and pressing my lips to the skin there.

Violet lets out a contented sigh, snuggles into the pillows, and my cock turns to solid steel in my sweatpants.

This woman…

All I want is to care for her. If I could do that for the rest of my life, I’d be the happiest Alpha in the world.