Carson’s fingers flex against the wall beside my head, his whole body taut with tension. His scent presses against me, wrapping around me. It’s the first time I’ve smelled his musk, and my breath catches in my lungs. Hot cocoa, marshmallows, whiskey. Sin and comfort wrapped into one.
“Gonna answer me, peaches?” he asks, way too calm.
I try to push at his chest, but he doesn’t budge. Not an inch.
“None of your business,” I manage.
Carson chuckles. Slow. Dangerous. “Not my business?” He dips his head lower, the breath from his lips brushing the sensitive skin just beneath my ear—not touching, but so damn close. “You sure about that? I’m pretty sure that isexactly the kind of thing that is my business. Do we need to lock you up to keep you safe?”
My breath stutters, my pulse staccatos against my ribs, my pheromones bleed from my skin, and I’m not positive my body actually understands what he means when he asks that question..
His fingers skim my hip, the barest touch, too light and too much all at once. “You’re shaking.”
I shove harder at his chest, my palms burning from the heat of him. “Back off, Carson.”
I expect him to tease, expect him to smirk.
But instead, his eyes darken. Not with amusement or arrogance. With something else entirely. Something that makes my stomach flip in a way that has nothing to do with fear.
“You let him touch you,” Carson guesses.
I don’t answer. I can’t. Not without lying anyway.
His jaw ticks, his fingers tightening just slightly at my hip. “You liked it.”
My breath hitches. His gaze drops to my lips. Oh, fuck. This is no longer a bodyguard standing in front of me—it feels like my alpha calling me out.
“Tell me, peaches,” he murmurs, “did he kiss you?”
I press my lips together. Too slow.
Carson’s smirk vanishes. And then, just as suddenly as he pinned me—he’s gone. He pushes off the wall, raking a hand through his hair, turning his back on me as though my knees aren’t weak and I’m struggling to breathe.
“Graham’s gonna lose his shit,” he mutters under his breath.
I blink. Graham? When did this become about him?
Carson exhales loudly, then throws a look over his shoulder, his smile creeping back just slightly, but now, it’s laced with something else. Jealousy? Possessiveness? Either way it’s something undeniably alpha.
“Better start working on your excuse, peaches.”
Then he strides toward the door. Disappearing into the locker room. Leaving me confused and aching for something I can’t even name right now.
CHAPTER 24
Carson
Finn is waiting for me.Like he knew one of us would come for him.
The second I step into the locker room, he’s there, dripping wet, leaning against the lockers looking smug as hell about getting past us and cornering our omega in the shower.
I drag in a deep breath, my nostrils flaring to catch her perfume clinging to him. Her scent is everywhere. Clinging to his soaked clothes, mixing with the damp heat of the locker room. Willow. Sweet, rich, and unmistakable. Peaches.
I see red.
“You’re pushing your luck.”
Finn’s lips twitch, the barest hint of a laugh he refuses to give. Amusement flashes in his eyes—this is funny to him. I fucking amuse him.
