Now if only I could get a dose of a different type of vitamin D…
God.
It's been so long since I’ve even thought about having sex, since I’ve had the urge, since I’ve found someone I want to do it with, that the thought takes me by surprise.
It shouldn’t though. I’m still weak kneed from Forsythe’s kiss, from his confession that if he could choose me he would.
Actually, now that I think about it… I’m a little mad at him because of that. I mean,really?
Who kisses someone like that, like they’re the best thing they’ve ever tasted and won’t stop until they’ve devoured every crumb, only to turn around and say, ‘I know I almost just made you come by touching my tongue to yours, but we can’t do this ever again.’
Obviously, he didn’t say those words, but it was implied.
And what I’m actually mad about is not the kiss so much, but what he said after. Who gives that kind of hope, that dull, aching kind? Because even though he made it clear he and his pack won’t be picking me at the end of this thing, I have this fluttering feeling in my stomach like maybe they might.
“Morning, bubbles,” Grieves’ voice slithers down my spine, making goosebumps pop up and my smile to grow even bigger than it was. “Sleep alright?”
I open my eyes and grin at him. His lips curl up at the corners in an almost smile as his dark grey gaze meets mine. “I did, thanks. It's so peaceful here, you know? Quiet.” There’s a shriek from one of the other omegas and he chuckles as I correct, “well, once we’ve all gone our separate ways for the night.”
He nods, sunlight glinting off his blond hair. “Yeah, it's nice. Though I’m sharing a suite with my pack, and Courtland snores so maybe it's not that quiet for me. Here.” He holds out a mug to me. And I blink down at it in surprise.
“For me?” I take it hesitantly, our fingers brushing on the warm ceramic.
“For you, bubbles.”
Its coffee. Almost the exact right shade of creamy light brown. I take a sip and moan. “Perfect.” And it really is. He used the creamer that I like—maple brown sugar oat milk—and I cantell he diluted it with just regular oat milk, to keep it from getting too sweet. Just like I make every morning.
He noticed.
But more importantly, he remembered.
Like I said was a turn on in the compatibility quiz.
“You flirting with me, bruiser?” my mouth says before I can think better of it.
He smiles and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear, rough fingers brushing the shell, before they scrape down my neck. “Wouldn’t dream of stopping.”
Goddamit.
These fucking alphas.
This fucking pack.
With their perfect smiles and perfect bodies and perfect fucking words.
They’re going to eviscerate me when they send me home.
I can already tell it's going to happen. Already feel my heart fracture a little every time they pick Isadora over me, every time they touch her, or lean over to murmur something in her ear. When they send me home it's going to shatter, just like Forsythe was worried about.
I’m supposed to be keeping my distance to stop that from happening, but they seem determined to keep engaging me. To seek me out, get to know me. Do sweet things like make me the perfect cup of coffee in the morning, practice yoga with me, laugh at my stupid jokes.
They have the freaking audacity to look at me like I’m beautiful, adorable, something precious. And I really, really need to stop this.
But I don’t really want to.
For the first time in a long time, I’m… happy.
Really happy. Not just faking it.
