Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha novel Chapter 49

Chapter 49: Their... Contract?

"Don’t laugh at me," I warn him, even as his cocky little grin sends a sizzle through my blood.

"I’m not. I’m desperate to hear what you have to say."

But instead of showing me how he’s listening, his hands press down on my hips, grinding me against the heat and thickness of his cock.

"I don’t want a relationship," I clarify, and his hands still immediately.

"Okay." There’s a question mark in there somewhere, in the way he drawls out the word.

His stupidly pretty green eyes are too distracting, so I glance at the roof of the car instead. "I’m still pissed about you calling me a cheater, too."

"Nicole, I’m so sorry—"

I nod, still not looking at him. If I do, I’ll probably kiss him. Or rub all over his lap and beg him to fuck me in this car.

Actually, that’s starting to sound—

No. Damn it, his pheromones are back. I need to get this out before I lose what little thought process I have left.

I’m going to jump his bones. I may as well accept it.

"There’s way too much shit going on for me to even consider starting anything with you," I continue, and my hands fiddle with the ends of his hair without my permission. Softer than I thought it would be. "Having sex would be a terrible decision."

"Terrible," he agrees, leaning forward to nuzzle against my neck. "We shouldn’t do it."

"No, we should."

He freezes. "We should?"

"Yes. We should. Just get it out. Fuck until we’re limp and sweaty and you stop dumping your pheromones everywhere. Then maybe I’ll be able to think straight around you."

Logan pulls back slowly, his intense gaze locking with mine. The air between us crackles with tension, and I desperately want to grind down and give myself a little relief.

But I don’t. Because I’m a mature adult who is in control of her urges. Right?

"So, what you’re saying is," he begins, his voice low and controlled, "you want us to have a purely physical relationship until my pheromones calm down?"

There’s something in the precise way he speaks that makes me pause. A niggling feeling in the back of my mind tells me I’m missing something crucial, but I can’t quite grasp what it is. I nod, my throat suddenly dry.

"Until my pheromones stop dumping," he repeats, emphasizing each word.

I nod again, slower this time. The weight of his words settles over me, and I feel like I’m agreeing to something more than just casual sex. But that can’t be right. I just specified I didn’t want a relationship. He agreed to it.

"Say it out loud," Logan prompts, his eyes never leaving mine. "With your words."

I swallow hard, my voice barely above a whisper. "I want us to have a purely physical relationship until your pheromones stop dumping."

A glint of something—triumph?—flashes in his eyes. "Could this be considered a binding contract between us?"

My lips purse as I consider his question. Before I can fully process what’s happening, Logan moves swiftly. The car door swings open, and I let out an undignified squeak of surprise.

What follows is a comical dance of limbs as Logan maneuvers us out of the car. His strong arms keep me secure in his lap, and he’s careful to make sure I don’t bump my head. It’s awkward and slightly ridiculous, but I can’t help the flutter in my stomach at his attentiveness.

With a swift motion, he pockets his keys and kicks the car door shut. Then, without warning, he starts walking, carrying me effortlessly into the woods.

I can’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation hitting me. Here I am, carried into the woods by a freaking werewolf I’ve just agreed to have a casual sexual relationship with.

The bluntness of his statement sends a jolt of heat through me. Right. Sex. Not in a car. Somehow, I’d expected—I don’t know. His place. Or a hotel. Or somewhere with a bed.

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