Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha novel Chapter 47

Chapter 47: When Pheromones Collide

Logan’s knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. Without warning, he pulls the car over to the side of the road, flicking on the hazard lights. He turns in his seat to face me, and I can’t help but squirm as I realize his pheromones seem even stronger than before.

I’m irritated by them, right? So why do I want him to lean all the way over to my side of the car and kiss me silly?

And not just kiss. I want those broad, calloused hands of his to slide beneath my shirt and—

His green eyes flash golden, sending a shiver down my spine. "Nicole," he says, his voice low and intense. "Have you ever wondered what your pheromones are doing when you’re around me?"

I blink, caught off guard by the question and my dangerous fantasies. "My pheromones?"

Logan leans in closer, and I find myself pressing back against the car door. "You’re not the only one affected here. Every time I’m near you, your scent drives me wild. It’s intoxicating. And you always smell..." His eyes flick down toward my lap. "Aroused."

My breath catches in my throat. "Humans don’t have pheromones like that."

A wry smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "You’d be surprised. Humans might not have the same level of pheromone production as a shifter, but believe me, you’re putting out plenty."

I shake my head, trying to clear the fog that seems to have settled over my brain. "Still. You need to get control of yours. It’s distracting."

"Distracting?" The word comes out in a low growl, and Logan unclips his seat belt to lean over me, looming like my fantasies wanted him to.

I clench my thighs together with a faint whimper.

Logan’s eyes bore into mine, a swirling maelstrom of green and gold. His voice comes out rough, barely controlled. "Nicole, I’m hanging on by a thread here. If you don’t want this to go further, you need to tell me to stop. Now."

My mouth opens, but my voice fails me. The words stick in my throat, trapped behind the thundering of my pulse. I should tell him to stop. I know I should. But as I stare into those mesmerizing eyes, feeling the heat of his body so close to mine, rational thought slips away like sand through my fingers.

Before I can summon the willpower to speak, Logan closes the distance between us. His lips crash against mine, and a moan escapes me at the first touch. It’s like a dam breaking, unleashing a torrent of sensation that threatens to sweep me away.

Logan’s pheromones explode around us, enveloping me in a cocoon of heady desire. Pine and musk and something uniquely Logan fills my lungs, making my head spin. My body responds instantly, every nerve ending coming alive under his touch.

His hands cup my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks as he deepens the kiss. I melt into him, my own hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders. The kiss is hungry, desperate, as if we’re both trying to devour each other whole. It’s much like our first encounter in the bar bathroom—primal. Inevitable.

I arch into him, craving more contact. Logan growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating through me and settling low in my belly. One of his hands slides into my hair, gripping gently but firmly as he angles my head to deepen the kiss further.

My mind races, a jumble of conflicting thoughts and emotions. This is wrong. We shouldn’t be doing this. He rejected me. I’m a suspect in a murder investigation. But beneath all that, a deeper, more instinctive part of me whispers: This is right. This is where you belong.

Logan’s other hand trails down my side, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. When he reaches the hem of my shirt, his fingers slip underneath, caressing the bare skin of my waist. I gasp into his mouth, the touch sending sparks of electricity through my body.

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