And now, he’s letting me in.
The elevator doors slide open. Willow steps in first. Ifollow. And Carson brings up the rear.
As the doors close, sealing us inside the glass box, Willow lifts her chin and meets my eyes, daring me to make a move.
Oh, little fire.
You have no idea what you’ve just started.
The door clicks shut behind us, soft but final. The kind of sound that closes off the world.
I stand in the center of the room, heart pounding out of my chest, while Willow steps past me and tosses her towel through the bathroom doorway. It lands with a wet slap on the tile. The faint scent of chlorine lingers on her skin, but it’s already fading beneath something warmer—her.
Carson brushes past me, his bare arm grazing mine. His scent hits me—spiked hot cocoa and marshmallows. Rich. Cozy. Dangerous. I’m pretty sure my cock has never been this hard. The combination of the two of them is almost overwhelming to my senses. How strong are their scents that even I can smell them?
I can’t smell other omegas or alphas, so smelling them and knowing without a doubt that’s what I’m smelling…it’s strange, but feels akin to an instinct I didn’t realize I had.
He drops into the oversized armchair in the corner, legs spread wide, one hand draped over the armrest, the other idly twirling the towel he just peeled from his neck.
Their room is too warm. Or maybe it’s just me. My skin buzzes. My throat is dry.
“You two smell like heaven,” I murmur.
Carson’s eyes meet mine, flaring with something unreadable, then heat. The air thickens. Now is the time to make sure he wants me too. Make sure I give him a reason to keep me around. So I can belong to something for the first time in my life.
Nerves run through me. I’m never nervous, but something about this feels life-changing. Willow leans against thedresser, arms loose at her sides, her eyes raking over both of us. She bites her bottom lip, not like she’s unsure, but as if she’s deciding how far to push.
“You can smell us?” she asks. “What do we smell like?”
I swallow. “Warm peaches and melting ice cream. With chocolate and something sweet under it all.”
She hums at that, lashes dropping briefly as if she’s tucking something away. When she looks back up, she shares a look with Carson—one I can’t decode, but I feel it settle between them.
“Betas don’t normally smell omega and alpha scents so clearly,” she says.
I don’t move. Just stare at her. At him.
“I’ve always been able to smell you,” I say softly.
Her expression shifts slightly, and I know she feels the tension that’s always been there, but now threaded through with something more. Something bigger. Something undeniable.
And I don’t want to wait.
I cross the space between us in a few careful steps, aware of everything—her breathing, the heat coming off her skin, the way her fingers curl against the edge of the dresser, bracing herself.
I lift a hand to her jaw, brushing my thumb along the edge of her cheek. “Let me kiss you.”
She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t move either.
I take it as permission.
The moment my mouth meets hers, the world narrows. The kiss deepens, her hands finding my shirt, curling into the fabric as I press in. I could drown in her and not care. She’s fire and lightning and the calm just before a storm. Mine. She always has been.
And I think—just for a heartbeat—she knows it too.
It’s fierce and slow, not rushed but full of everything wehaven’t said. She tastes of chlorine and adrenaline, but also like defiance and temptation wrapped in summer heat. Her hands clutch my shirt, pulling me closer. And God, I go willingly. I could kiss her until the world ends.
But I don’t.
