I closed my eyes. My thoughts drifted to him. His paradoxical warm-and-cool skin, the strength of his arms as he held me, the gentle touch of his hands against my bare calves, all of it swirled in my head.
My cheeks burned hot and sweat trickled down my temple as my imagination drifted to dirtier ideas. I'd never fantasized about an alpha this way before but it was easy with Devereaux. The tiny part of me that felt bad about this was swamped by the overwhelming pleasure simmering below my belly. As I neared release, I couldn't care anymore. I whispered Devereaux's name, imagined his fingers lacing through my hair as he pushed me lower to explore between his thighs—
I sucked in a sharp breath between my teeth as I came. It was hard and fast, like I'd been pent up for a long time. It left me sweaty and tingling all over. As the hot wave of pleasure cooled, the nagging pain returned, but the lingering aftershocks of my orgasm were enough to dampen it for now.
The door suddenly flew open. I would've yelped in surprise if I wasn't so exhausted, but in my current state I was too tired to react.
"Florian!" Pascal cried. "What's wrong, are you okay?"
I blinked, not sure what he meant.
"I was grabbing laundry and I heard you make a sound like you were hurt," he clarified.
I blushed harder. I didn't realize I was so loud.
"I'm all right," I said, though it was difficult getting the words out.
Pascal frowned, clearly unconvinced. "You don't look so good, Florian." He put the back of his hand to my forehead. His skin was colder than my face. "Geez, you're burning up! Do you have a fever?"
If he didn't look so serious I might have laughed. How was I going to explain this to him?
"Er, no," I said. "I was, um... dealing with something else."
"Huh?"
"Something... down there."
"Down there? What are you—" Pascal's eyes widened as he understood. "Ohhh." He grinned. "You dirty omega!"
I huffed. "Sorry for being crude. I just couldn't help myself."
"Hey, happens to all of us. Though I bet your new friend Devereaux had something to do with it."
I made an embarrassing sound. "He did not!"
"Sure, Florian, I believe you."
Pascal didn't believe me. He hopped on the edge of my bed by my feet and glanced at the covers. "Hey, by the way... I wanted to say sorry about yesterday. I hate fighting with you."
I'd almost forgotten about our argument. It felt like so much happened in between then and now.
"It's okay," I said, smiling. "I'm sorry too."
Pascal smiled back, but I noticed he didn't say anything about changing his mind. Before I could ask about it, he frowned again and leaned in closer.
"Hey, Florian, are you sure you're okay? You look sick," he murmured. "Is that why you're still in bed?"
My smile fell as I grew cognizant of the pain again. "Flare-up. I pushed myself too hard yesterday."
Pascal grimaced sympathetically. "Oh, man... Listen, I know you like this Devereaux guy but don't hurt yourself for his sake, okay?"
"I'm not. I just... wanted to see him."
I knew my reasoning sounded weak, but the pain made it hard to think clearly. I wished it would go away so I could sound less like a teenager with a silly crush, because my feelings for Devereaux were deeper than that.
"Can you get up?" Pascal asked.
I inhaled slowly and took a second tofeelmy body. The pain wasn't searing, but it was electric. Every small motion jolted my nerves. The thought of physically sitting up nearly made me sick.
