Page 26 of Laced With Secrets

“Promise me,” he demanded. “No more ladders. No more climbing. No more risks.”

“I promise,” I said. And I meant it. “No more ladders.”

“Thank you.” He pulled me closer, breathing deeply, his scent still sharp, almost resinous. “Now I’m hanging that garland, and you’re going to stand safely on the ground here and tell me if it’s crooked.”

“It will probably be crooked,” I muttered.

“Then I’ll adjust it until you’re satisfied.” His voice had shifted, taking on a different edge. “Because that’s what I do. I give you what you need. Keep you safe. Make sure you never have reason to climb a goddamn ladder again.”

The intensity between us had shifted, thickened. The anxiety was fading, replaced by something headier. He was still holding me, my body pressed against his, and suddenly I was very aware of every point of contact between us.

“You can let go now,” I said, but my voice came out breathless.

“What if I don’t want to?” His eyes darkened as his fingers slipping under the hem of my sweater, the heat of his palms scorching the bare skin beneath. “What if I want to keep you right here where I can make sure you don’t do anything else that stops my heart?”

“Dom—”

“You ran from me yesterday.” His voice dropped lower, more intimate.

I had. My body melted at the memory of his pursuit. “I didn’t run?—”

“You did.” He backed me slowly toward my work table, his body caging mine. “And it triggered something in me. Made me want to chase. To catch. To claim.”

My breath caught.

A beast with its fur on the inside.

That’s how the old stories painted alphas. “We’re in the shop. In the middle of the day. Anyone could?—”

“The door’s locked.” His nose traced the line of my throat. “I locked it when we started decorating. Didn’t want interruptions.”

“That’s—” My thought process derailed as his teeth scraped lightly over my pulse point. “That’s very presumptuous?—”

“Mmm… but I’m entitled to it,” he countered, his hands sliding to the small of my back, and dragging me flush against him. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep my hands off you whenyou’re doing sweet omega things like nesting and rearranging the garland?”

His thumbs rubbed circles on my hip bones. “So I locked the door. Because I knew we’d end up exactly here. With you against this work table. With me trying very hard not to do something that would scandalize your forefathers’ ghosts.”

A laugh bubbled out of me despite the heat pooling low in my belly. “My forefathers’ ghosts?”

“They’re all probably watching, judging my technique.” But his smile faded as his gaze intensified. He took a breath. “Back room. Before I forget the display window has an unobstructed view of your work table.”

“We still have more garland to hang?—”

“Back room,” he repeated, the alpha command back in his voice without being overbearing.

This time, I didn’t argue.

I turned and headed toward the back, very aware of him following close behind, a predator tracking prey. My heart hammered as I pushed through the curtain into my main workshop area, then moved quickly to the private storage room—the one with an actual locking door for supplies and inventory.

The door had barely closed before he had me pressed against it, the lock clicking into place with ominous finality. The small space suddenly felt even smaller.

“Finally,” he growled against my throat, his body caging mine.

“We can’t… a customer might—” But my protest died as his teeth scraped my mating gland, my body arching involuntarily against his.

“What were you thinking climbing a ladder the second I turned my back?” His palms were warm, possessive. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“That’s not—oh—” My head fell back against the door as his mouth found the sensitive spot below my ear.