I brush a strand of her hair back, tucking it behind her ear. “If I pick any alphas for my heats or otherwise,” I say firmly, my thumb grazing her jawline, “we will pick them together. Because we’ll both be enjoying them.”
Her breath catches, and her eyes flicker with something deeper—understanding, maybe hope. And despite the chaos raging in me, I can’t help but feel the smallest flicker of calm. I need this woman like I need the air in my lungs.
She presses her lips together, the blush still coloring her cheeks as she gives me a small, hesitant nod. I lean down and press a soft kiss to her temple before stepping back. My chest tightens, but I force myself to move. I have to face Dean.
He’s silent behind us, but I don’t need to look to feel him. He’s in the air around me, in my blood. Hell, he’ll probably always be there, whether I want him to be or not.
“It’s Lakelyn’s turn,” I say, turning to meet his gaze.
Dean’s nostrils flare as he inhales deeply, and my breath catches at the sight of him. His pupils are blown wide, his lips pressed into a thin line, and he’s visibly hard. The material of his shorts strains against his length, and I can’t help but picture Lakelyn’s ass pressed back against him instead of mine. The thought sends a different kind of thrill skittering through me.
Would she excite him more than I do? God, I hope so. I hope she presses every single one of his buttons.
Lakelyn tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her steps quick and slightly unsure as she hurries back toward Dean.
“I can, um, do it on my own,” she stammers, her gaze fixed on his tense, unreadable face.
But before he can respond—and I know he’s going to let her off the hook—I cut in, my voice smooth and teasing. “No, she can’t. She needs your help, Coach.”
Dean’s jaw ticks, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. His teeth clench so tightly I think I hear them grind, and it sends a laugh tumbling out of me.
“Unless you think you can’t be professional,” I add, my tone dripping with challenge.
I hope he breaks. Hope he snaps and lets the Alpha out. I want to see him lose that iron control and show us exactly what’s hiding beneath.
Lakelyn squeaks when Dean’s arms suddenly wrap around her, his hands dwarfing hers on the racket. She freezes for a moment, her breath catching as he tugs her closer with no hesitation.
And then it happens.
A low, guttural growl rumbles from him, raw and possessive, vibrating in the air around us.
I feel it like a shock to my system, and I don’t know whether to grin or shudder. Maybe both.
CHAPTER 14
Lakelyn
Dean’slow rumble vibrates through me, settling low in my belly. I tremble, just for a second, caught in his arms as he towers over me from behind. Every nerve in my body seems to hum in response, like I’m tuned to him, to this moment.
In the background, the steady thump of tennis balls firing from the launcher echoes, each one a soft reminder of where we are. But my focus is on him—on the way his chest presses against my back, the solid heat of his body wrapping around me like a cocoon. His musk enveloping me in a sexually-charged haze, filling my senses, pulling me deeper into him.
I feel him. All of him. The undeniable proof of what Chad’s proximity does to him pressed tight against me. My pulse races, a mix of excitement and confusion swirling inside me. I’ve never felt anything like this before—this raw, electrified energy crackling between us. He inhales, burying his face in my hair, sending tingles over my skin. This is the complete opposite of the rejection from a few weeks ago.
And then, just like that, it’s gone.
The warmth of him disappears, replaced by the cool bite of mountain air, leaving me standing there, feeling hollow. I don’thave to turn around to know he’s walked away. He takes his overwhelming presence with him, leaving only the echo of what just happened behind.
“I guess that’s the lesson for today,” Chad’s voice breaks the quiet, smooth and teasing.
He moves easily across the court, shutting off the ball launcher, as if nothing out of the ordinary just happened. The rhythm of the tennis balls dies down, leaving only the quiet of the day settling around us. Chad gathers up the scattered balls, placing them in the bin with a practiced ease, and I watch, still trying to ground myself after what just happened.
I feel rattled, but not in a bad way. Something shifted inside of me. Something I didn’t expect.
“Maybe we should call it a day,” Chad adds.
I press my lips together and nod. I never got to tell Dean it would be my last practice, and my stomach flips at the idea of doing it now.
Chad grabs our bags without hesitation and heads toward the changing rooms, and I fall in step behind him, but my mind is in overdrive. Dean’s just a friend. One of Landon’s close buddies, that’s all. That’s the story I’ve been telling myself for months now. But what just happened back there? That didn’t feel like friendship. It felt like... something more.
