Zoe
The first glow of dawn creeps through the massive windows, painting the room in shades of pale gold. I haven’t slept. Not a single minute. How could I, after what happened?
I’ve spent the last three hours hiding under these ridiculously luxurious sheets, my face burning with mortification, pretending I don’t hear the four alphas breathing on my floor. Pretending I don’t remember every excruciating second of last night. Pretending I didn’t have the most intense orgasm of my life in my sleep while dreaming about them and then scream loud enough to wake the entire building.
And worst of all, pretending I didn’t hear Dane’s quiet revelation in the darkness.
“You were calling for Rett. In your dream.”
God, just remembering it makes me want to dissolve into the mattress. I don’t even remember saying Rett’s name, but apparently I did. Loudly. While having a sex dream. With all four of them in it.
From my blanket fortress, I can hear them moving around,trying to be quiet. The soft rustle of fabric. A barely audible yawn. The gentle tap of a phone being set down.
I peek over the edge of my comforter. Tristan is stretching, his back arched like a cat, muscles rippling beneath his skin. Diego is folding his blanket, his movements careful as if he’s afraid to make too much noise. Dane is already up, his arms crossed over his bare chest, pale eyes fixed on some point in the middle distance.
And Rett... Rett is sitting with his back against the wall, his knees drawn up, staring directly at my bed. At me. The moment our eyes meet, something electric passes between us, and I duck back under the covers like a startled turtle.
Nope. Not ready for that yet.
But there’s a problem. A very urgent, very human problem that I’ve been ignoring for the last hour.
I need to pee.
Desperately.
There’s no way around it. I’m going to have to get out of this bed, cross the room, and make it to the bathroom. All while four pairs of eyes track my every move, fully aware that I had an explosive orgasm dreaming about them just hours ago.
Maybe if I’m really, really quiet, they won’t notice.
I take a deep breath and slowly, carefully pull back the covers. I slip one leg out, then the other. So far, so good. I ease myself to the edge of the mattress, wincing when it creaks slightly.
Immediately, four pairs of eyes snap to me with laser-like focus.
So much for stealth.
“Morning,” I croak, my voice sounding unnaturally loud in the tense silence.
No one responds. Rett continues staring at me with that unreadable intensity, his blue eyes burning into mine. Diego looks like I just told him his puppy ran away, a mixture of concern and hurt on his handsome face. Tristan, the man who hasn’t shut up since I methim, suddenly finds the carpet absolutely fascinating, unable to make eye contact. And Dane... Dane is just watching. Observing. Like I’m a particularly interesting specimen under a microscope.
Right. Bathroom. Focus on the bathroom.
I stand up, acutely aware that I’m wearing only a thin t-shirt and sleep shorts. The claiming marks on my neck feel exposed, and I resist the urge to slap a hand over them.
“I’m just going to...” I gesture vaguely toward the bathroom door, taking a tentative step in that direction.
No one moves, but the tension in the room cranks up another notch. I can practically feel their eyes on me as I shuffle across the plush carpet, my arms wrapped around myself like armor.
When I finally reach the bathroom door, I nearly sob with relief. I slip inside and close it behind me, leaning against it and letting out the breath.
“Get it together, Zoe,” I mutter to my reflection in the mirror. My hair is a tangled mess, my eyes shadowed from lack of sleep, and my cheeks are still flushed. “It was just a dream. People have dreams all the time. It doesn’t mean anything.”
But even as I say it, I know it’s a lie. That dream felt different. More real. More intense. And the claiming marks on my neck, which I can now see clearly in the bathroom’s bright lights, look redder. Surrounded by a faint, angry red blush, like a bruise that’s decided to deepen instead of heal.
Add that to my list of things to worry about this morning.
I use the toilet, wash my hands, and splash cold water on my face, trying to cool the persistent heat in my cheeks. I consider hiding in here all day, but that would be childish. And pathetic. And they’d probably break down the door, thinking I’d been kidnapped through the ventilation system or something equally ridiculous.
Taking a deep breath, I square my shoulders and open the bathroom door, prepared to face the most awkward morning-after that never actually happened.
