Page 16 of Knotting Hill (How I Met My Monster)

Will

I turn back five times before I finally leave the house for good. I haven’t actually forgotten anything, I just keep thinking I have.

I don’t know if it’s wise to have planned a day in public with Bella Owens. Only, I think we’ll be safe in Goodhope Park. Sutton is a quiet borough, and in the middle of the day on a Monday, I’m willing to bet there won’t be many people around. Not many people know about the park, which is a community garden run by local volunteers.

She’ll be safe with me. I’ll make sure she is. I know she’s anxious about more than physical threats, so I keep my eyes and nose open for anyone who seems like they’re paying unnecessary attention to us. Fortunately, I spot nothing.

The metro is quiet. When we find a seat, Bella leans her head on my shoulder and scrolls social media on her phone until I get out my little book of poetry. Then she gets distracted.

“Who’s this poet?”

I turn the cover so she can see the author’s name on the front.

“Is she always so morose?” Bella giggles.

“Mmm. I’m afraid that’s mandatory in Britain. Poets are legally not allowed to be happy.”

“Oh, really? What about Wordsworth? I didn’t hear him moping about walking through fields of daffodils.”

“Ah, yes, but you’re forgetting about the lawsuit after that.”

She laughs and settles against me again, phone forgotten. When I go to turn the page, she reaches up to stop me for a moment. “OK. Done. I liked that one. But, oof, it gave me feels.”

“Me, too.”

If I was in my wolf form or beast form, my tail would be wagging right now. Since I’m not, I content myself with a kiss on her forehead, wondering if she would mind how pathetically sappy I feel about this whole moment.

When the train stops and we get out at the station, I keep close by her side, shepherding her over the pedestrian bridge and into the main shopping district. We stop for fresh bread, then I lead her down the narrow street and through the iron gate to the garden.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!”

I watch her take it in. I’ve seen it many times before, but it’s never looked better to me than it does through her eyes. Her wide smile stretches across her generous mouth. She glances around at me, eyes bright, face full of delight.

Of course, my heart is squeezing in my chest and my wolf is howling to bite her. I clear my throat. “Let’s eat.”

We set out the picnic rug and I lay out the food I brought: cheese and bread and pickles, a little salad, and some fruit. It’s simple, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

I’m relieved. I’m not used to cooking vegetarian!

Eventually, we push the food to one side and she lays with her head in my lap. “Read me some more from your book. I was enjoying it.”

“Are you sure? It’s not very romantic.”

She laughs. “Then write me something romantic.”

“Oh god. I’m no poet. I’d only embarrass myself.” My fingers stray to her hair, and I pull the long dark strands gently free of tangles.

“Go on. How bad can it be?”

I clear my throat, leave a dramatic pause, then begin. “Roses are red. Violets are blue.”

She’s already laughing, and I can’t keep a straight face either.

“I’m an English man. So talking about feelings is impossible to do.”

“Cheat!”

I try again. “A haiku on the most perfect breasts I’ve ever seen: Round, voluptuous. But to squeeze or suck them. That is the question.”

“Will!” Bella is giggling uncontrollably now. “Be serious.”

“All right. I think you’re amazing. There’s no poetry in that. But you make me smile. You make me think. You make me desperate with need. I just don’t want to frighten you off. And I don’t want to do something you’ll regret later...” I trail off, afraid to say more.

She lifts her hand to cup my cheek. “You won’t. I think you’re amazing, too.”

I huff out a little laugh. I’ve no idea why, but I’m not silly enough to question it. “Bella, I—”

She cuts me off when she tugs my head down for a kiss. It’s a bit of an awkward angle, but worth it. There’s no way I’m passing up any opportunity.

Her mouth is sweet. I want more, so I shift from under her. I have to stop myself from simply crawling over her and rutting her in the park like a beast. Pulling back, my eyes are instantly drawn to where her short skirt has slid up, revealing smooth bare thighs. She has her knees bent and the hem of the skirt falls right across her panties giving me a glimpse of white.

That’s still enough to make my mouth water. My claws prick at the tips of my fingers. I swallow.

She parts her legs.

I’m not a bloody saint.

With trembling hands, I skate my fingertips along her inner thigh, praying she stops me. Praying she doesn’t.

Bella places her hand over mine and guides it to the damp fabric of her panties. “There’s no one around,” she whispers. “Make me come.”

I don’t have to look around to know she’s right. I’ve been on alert since meeting her and my nose tells me no one else is in the quiet little park.

Dappled sunlight plays through the leaves above our head and birds flit in flower bushes in the garden bed to our right, which screens us from the gate.

There are terrace houses to our left. Small first floor windows look over the garden, but it’s the middle of the day. What are the chances anyone is home?

I make a tentative foray across her pussy. Her panties are soaked.

Bella sighs. Her hand presses mine against her. “Please.”

How can I resist when my mate so sweetly asks for something? I would give my everything to make sure she’s satisfied in every way possible.

I slide a finger along the seam of the underwear and slip it below, groaning when it meets warm slick flesh.

“Oh god, Will!” Bella’s hips buck. Her ripe scent joins the fragrant scent of the roses and camellias. “How do you always have me so excited?”

I should be more discreet. More careful. I should keep my wits about me.

But every instinct within me is screaming for a taste of her. The taste I’ve been dreaming of since she first kissed me. And I don’t have the willpower to resist any longer.

Lowering her head to the rug, I move between her thighs. She lifts her hips and I pull the panties down and put them aside.

When her legs fall open, I gaze for a moment at the pretty thatch of hair on her mound, and her bare, smooth lips glistening with her arousal. She reaches down and parts the long lower lips, spreading for me.

I curse.

I have my mouth on her wet pussy the next moment. I groan as her sweet, salty flavor coats my tongue and lips. I suckle her, desperate for more. I push her hand out of the way and bury my face against her sweetness, drinking her in.

For a long moment, I enjoy her. I lick long swipes up each labia, I draw them into my mouth. I play with teasing flicks of my tongue over her clit until she’s gasping.

Finally, I lift my head.

She looks up at me and her expression is fierce and desperate.

I’m so unbearably hard I might explode any moment, but we can’t do any more than this here. I’m taking a stupid risk as it is. Only, I can’t help it.

“You’re so beautiful, Bella. There’s no way I could put words to it. Not even if I was Shakespeare or Coleridge and, lord knows, I’m not. But you should know. It’s what I’m thinking.”

Her hand tangles in my hair when I lower my head again. She pulls me against her. “I think what you’re doing down there is sweeter than all the poetry in the world—” her words are cut off with a needy moan when I find just the right place.

I don’t let up until her thighs are trembling around my ears and sweetness floods my mouth.