I dry her hair with the towel as best I can, then her body, before guiding the shirt over her head and then slipping into my own boxers. She’s nearly asleep when I get her into my bed, her damp hair spread across the pillow. As I turn to clean up the bathroom, she grabs my wrist, her grip unrelenting.
“Stay,” she whispers, her eyes bright and a bit unfocused. A command, not a request.
“Give me just a minute,” I tell her, tracing her lips with my thumb. “Let me get the lights turned off, and I’ll be right back.”
She stares at me for a long moment, almost seeing through me entirely, and then she nods, settling deeper into the sheets. I rush through getting the towels picked up and the lights turned off. There’s a smear of blood on the counter, and I wipe it down, too, dumping the washcloth with the first one in the sink.
She’s a beacon in my bed when I step back into the room, a temptation I’m unable to resist. I gently get into the bed, pulling her into my chest. A contentment I haven’t really ever felt roars up in me when she turns toward me without opening her eyes. I press a kiss to her forehead, and she smiles.
CARYS
Rhett kisses me the moment he has the car pulled into thealley just behind the space Marilyn picked for the Thanksgiving dinner, his eyes scanning for anyone nearby. By some miracle, my heavy duty lotion holds, and none of my scent surrounds us.
“Billie’s good for the cover?” he asks as he pulls away.
I nod and swallow down my growing nerves.
“She’ll say I was at the shop this morning if anyone asks, but I doubt they will,” I say, dropping my phone into my bag and readjusting my hair so the ponytail’s a bit tighter. The two French braids aren’t my best work, but not all that bad considering I only had my brush and a single hair tie, and I’d fallen asleep with wet hair.
My makeup is better, simple but present. Both visible hickeys are properly covered this time thanks to a crash course with a Reddit sub-thread over the weekend. Praise all the people who have had to cover tattoos for whatever reason because their methods arephenomenal. Rhett squeezes my knee before pulling away.
“I’ll give you about five minutes before I head inside,” he says. “Text me if you need it to be longer.”
A lump forms in my throat, a blend of emotions I don’t have the bandwidth to decipher right now. I press another kiss to his lips, needing one more taste, one more moment with his skin against my own. He huffs out a laugh.
“You’re playing with fire, baby girl,” he whispers. “I just saw Timber’s truck.”
That has me hurrying out of his car. It takes everything in me to not look back, to not get one more look where I can drink him in and picture every single inch of his skin like I’d seen it just a couple hours ago. There’s a tenderness between my thighs that only strengthens that desire. But I manage. Somehow.
Instead, I make my way up the alley, stopping just in front of the venue doors to quickly pull out my favorite perfume from college and spritz it onto my wrists. It doesn’t quite cover Rhett’slemongrass, but it blends it enough nobody will notice it’s an Alpha’s scent and not part of the perfume. Hopefully.
“Hey, ‘Rys,” Timber says.
I flinch, dropping the perfume to the ground, the bottle cracking. I barely manage to swallow a very embarrassing squeal. He’s quick to grab the broken glass, his hands way more steady than mine. I shove them into the pockets of my dress, trying to calm my racing heart.
“Hi,” I manage as he stands back up. “I didn’t see you there.”
He shrugs, but his eyes are angry. “You should have told me you needed a ride. I could have picked you up.”
My entire body freezes on instinct at the anger lacing the words. I force a swallow, trying to breathe despite the sudden band tightening around my ribs. My voice shakes. “A ride?”
He nods, glancing over my shoulder with another glare. A brick drops into my stomach so fast it’s a shock I don’t get sick. Is Rhett still there? Had he seen him as I got out of the car?
“You just got dropped off by a rideshare,” he says it like it’s obvious. “I told you last month you could call me for help. Why the hell are you paying for rideshares?”
I swallow all that panic, shoving it down until I only feel it pressing against my ribs and not closing off my throat.
“Oh, right,” I manage. I lick my lips. “I had a last minute order I had to put together, so it just ended up being easier.”
“Easier.”
He shakes his head, his scent spiking with a sudden, visceral anger that has my stomach flipping.
“Timber?”
The shakiness in my voice cuts through whatever has him so upset. His face falls, and he runs a hand through his hair.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, ‘Rys.”
