I lock the PT room without fully remembering doing it, heart thudding as I follow the sensation through the corridor. The Icebox hums around me, but Beau’s presence is a steady line I can’t miss.
The locker room door is cracked, and I push it open with a hand that’s not as steady as I want it to be. He’s inside, leaning back against the bench; helmet already packed away and shirt tugged loose at the collar, exposing the thick line of his throat and the swell of his chest.
His eyes snap to me the moment I step inside, jaw clenched so tight I canhearthe faint grind of his teeth.
“You felt that,” he says.
It’s not a question.
“Yes,” I nod. “I did.”
His gaze drags over me slowly; neck to chest, chest to hips, down my legs and back again. Possessive and controlled, yes, but I can also feel the restraint humming off him.
“You okay?” he rumbles.
“I’m fine,” I say. “Just… reminded.”
Of what I am. Of whatheis.
Of what a single sharp scent can do to a bond not yet sealed.
He takes a step forward, then another, and the air shifts around us. By the time he’s standing in front of me, everything else—Dylan, the hallway, my job, my rules—melts into static.
Because Beau’s scentfloodsthe room.
It wraps around me like a net, woodsmoke and storm and something darker, somethingferal.
I sway before I can stop myself.
“Careful,” he murmurs, catching my waist.
It’s not an embrace. It’s aclaim.
“I don’t mind you being wanted,” he says, voice low and rough. “Ofcourseyou’re wanted. You’re fuckingirresistible.”
His thumb brushes under my shirt, barely grazing skin.
“I just need tofeelyou choose me.”
“I do,” I whisper.
But it’s not enough. Not for what’s surging between us.
I reach for him, fisting the front of his shirt and pulling him down. His mouth catches mine with sheer muscle memory, and the second our lips meet, the bond snaps tight again, humming hot and alive between us.
I whimper into his mouth, thighs clenching as heat floods my bloodstream.
Beau growls low in his chest and walks me back without breaking the kiss, his huge palms flattening against my ribs and my hips until my spine hits the cold metal of the locker with a jolt that makes me gasp.
“Fuck,” he murmurs against my mouth. “There you are.”
Our mouths collide again. Teeth clash and tongues slide, and I can taste him, smell him,feelhim everywhere.
His hands slide down to my hips and lock there, thumbs digging in, and then his thigh pushes between mine—
Oh,fuck.
I break with a sound I don’t recognize as mine as he grinds up against me, slow and filthy. His cock is thick and hard through his sweatpants, grinding right up into my soaked cunt, his body knowingexactlywhere to press.
