Page 57 of Gold Rush
June stares at me, her eyes hazy as she opens her lips, sticking her tongue partially out. I place my fingers on it and her tongue swirls around me, cleaning herself off my fingers, tasting herself on my skin.
I groan, pulling my hand back before she can get it all and lick the side of my hand, my nostrils flaring at the scent of her. Scooping her up, I support her weight and bend my head down, kissing her hungrily, seeking more of the taste as I whisper, “Let me take us home, Juniper.”
Her head lolls, dropping against my shirt as she gives me a tiny smile, satisfied and flushed. “Okay.”
Bile rises in my throat as I stare down at her — because I don’t need a bond to feel the band snapping around my heart, tying me to her irrevocably. I’ll be inconsolable if this is only temporary for her — I’ll never recover if she doesn’t end up a member of the pack and a permanent part of my life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
JUNE
Arin is a perfect gentleman.
He helps me into the car, then sits beside me as I tuck my head against his shoulder, saturated in the heady mint scent rolling off him. It’s late — nearly midnight, and something about the way he made me unravel has given me a giggly, drunk feeling.
I lean into him, trying and failing to stop myself from gazing up at him as we walk back into the townhouse. I wonder if we’re going to go to his room or if he’s going to come up the stairs with me.
“Go to bed, Juniper.” He presses a kiss to my forehead, and in one gentle motion, it feels like he dumped a bucket of ice water on me.
I swallow down bile, turning sharply to the stairs and muttering, “Goodnight, Arin.” I throw the words behind me before I run up the stairs, painfully aware of the stickiness between my thighs, my skirt feeling too tight and my skin flushed. He got what he wanted from me.
I don’t know why I expected anything else.
Tears prick in my eyes as I reach into my pocket, fisting my phone and the note, realizing I didn’t think about either duringthe dinner. But now I am — I’m thinking of my mother warning me of the way I’ve justletmyself beused—
“June.”
I freeze in front of my door, glancing to the side to see Bennett lingering in the doorway of his and Seth’s room. The light highlights the smooth, dark skin of his chest. It plays off the movement of muscles under his skin, not rippled and cut, but instead softer, speaking of a well-maintained diet more than anything.
My mouth goes dry as I fumble to pull my hand out of my pocket, unsure what to say.
“I thought you’d be wearing the dress.”
I stare at him, my voice soft as I admit. “It didn’t feel right.” I turn slightly away from my door, licking my lips. “I… I wanted to wait and wear it for you.”
The hallway is silent, the air hanging with tension until Bennett whispers, “Did you have a good time?”
I glance away, my throat closing. “Yes.” Despite Arin cutting it short — Ididenjoy myself. He’s an incredible conversationalist, and I felt like I was on atruedate for the first time in years, where someone across from me was as interested in what I do as I am in what they do. It’s been a long few years, multiple dates with men, women, and nonbinary people — but there was never aclicklike I felt tonight.
The floor creaks, and I glance up as Bennett steps closer. He pauses for the barest of moments, his eyes closing as he inhales deeply.
“You smell like mint and honey.”
I exhale harshly, fighting the urge to go on the defense, my body prickling,screamingto move closer to him. Ever since this morning — since Seth’s lips on me — I’ve felt like I’m on a hairpin trigger. I’ve mediated it as best as I can, but the closerhe gets, the closer I want to grab the man in front of me andletmyself fall into him.
But the shame fights the feeling that this is how it should be. My mother’s voice rings in the back of my mind, harsh and shrill —whore. A date with one alpha, a night with another? Who the fuck do I think I am?
I turn, reaching for the door.
“Juniper.”
I close my eyes when Bennett says my name, my shoulders tensing.
His soft footsteps echo across the floor, and then he’stouchingme. His fingers slide over my shoulder, the soft fabric of the sweater, touching the side of my neck as he bends down and nearly brushes his lips against the side of my head. He doesn’tquitetouch me, but my skin burns all the same.
“I’m happy that Arin made sure tonight was something you enjoyed.” His soft voice has a hint of a smile in it, before it turns earnest. “Did you know that’s called —”
“Compersion,” I whisper the word, turning my head, my temple nearly knocking into his lips as he looks down at me.
