I don’t know why I do what I do next. It’s almost like some other being takes over me. I lift my left hand and bring it to her face, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. My fingertips graze the soft skin of her cheek in the process, and she sucks in a hard breath. Those dark eyes of hers lift, meeting my stare once again—but this time, she doesn’t quickly look away. This time, we’re both caught.
My hand is still lifted, my fingers somewhat entangled in the hair I’d just tucked behind her ear. She sits mere inches away from me, and suddenly I’m all too aware of the stupid plate resting on my lap, a remnant of how this whole thing began.
I don’t want the plate on my lap. I want her there instead.
Shit. This is exactly what I was worried about. I just didn’t think I’d get caught up in her so soon. I thought her heat would pull me in. I thought my walls were up, as they always were. I thought I was prepared, thought we could easily stay away from each other.
I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong, and the big problem is I don’t know that I can stop it. I don’t know if I want to try. My brother likes her; that should be enough to make me take a step back. My brother and I aren’t a pack.
“I knew you’d be trouble,” I whisper to her. “I—” What else is there to say? What else can I say that wouldn’t scare us both away?
“I’m not trouble. If anything, it’s you alphas who’re the trouble,” she whispers back, and as she speaks, she leans closer to me, like she wants me to keep going, to keep touching her. To hold her, to kiss her.
The hand in her hair moves to her jawline, which I trace with a gentle caress. My heart comes alive in my chest, an organ I never thought I’d feel. Warmth blooms deep inside of me, along with a certain kind of need I’ve never felt before.
I lean in to her, letting instincts I’ve never had take over. My eyelids are slow to close as my mouth nears hers. Damn it. I’ve never wanted anything more. This need crept up on me when I wasn’t looking. I thought I was prepared, but I guess not. I guess you can’t really be prepared for something like this.
Our lips are mere inches apart when, suddenly, Jess jerks away from me. “I’m sorry. I—I can’t.” She pulls away from me and hops to her feet, and before her denial of me has any time to sink in, she runs to the doors and hurries inside the house, leaving me outside, my hand still outstretched as if she’s there.
Fucking hell. My hand falls, and I shake my head at myself. Now that she’s not near, I can think clearly again.
What the hell was I thinking? Getting involved in her, in this whole thing, will only lead to disaster and heartbreak. She clearly doesn’t want a pack or even a single match. Letting myself have any sort of feelings for her would is a dead-end street. Logically, that knowledge should deter me, but will it?
I have the feeling I already know the answer, but I don’t want to admit it.
Chapter Seventeen – Jess
What was I thinking?
That thought reverberates in my mind the rest of the night and well into the next morning. I thought sitting outside while I did laundry would help me clear my head, but that was shot to heck when Mason showed his face.
And then things turned serious. Things got deep. Things… nearly escalated.
I don’t know what I was thinking, nor do I know what Mason was thinking. The whole thing caught us both unaware.
The thing is, even now when I think back to last night, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt natural, like we were about to progress our relationship the way it always should progress. Like it was only a matter of time until we found ourselves alone again and we gave in to our deepest, darkest desires.
I knew I had a thing for the alphas in this house after that dream. A naive part of me wished it was just my upcoming heat and the hormone changes that would soon take place, but I’d have to be some kind of fool to believe it’s only that.
As much as I want to stay locked up in my room the next day, eventually I need food, so I venture to the kitchen to scrounge something up. Unfortunately, I run into Rourke in the hall, and the sight stops me dead in my tracks.
He wears dark jeans he commandeered from one of Asher and Mason’s parents, along with a dark blue polo that hugs his frame a bit too tightly—but no one with eyes would ever dare complain. Those muscles of his need to be showed off, not to mention the tattoos on his arms.
Seriously, both arms arecoveredin tattoos.
“There you are,” he says, an easy grin on his face as his blue gaze twinkles. He’s in my way, so I can’t get around him withoutentertaining this conversation first. “Get a good night’s sleep?” The question is spoken genuinely, so I don’t think he’s aware of what nearly happened between me and Mason last night.
Good thing, too. He might go apeshit and drag me out of this house. Can’t have that.
“Yeah,” I say, lying.
And the son of a gun picks up on it and calls me out, the jerk. “You’re lying.”
Even though I totally am, I still huff and puff and act generally insulted when I say, “No, I’m not.” And then when he gives me a look—you know the one, with one eyebrow raised and a head half-cocked—I add, “Shut up. What do you care?”
“Sleep is something you should be prioritizing right now. The two weeks before your heat are imperative, they can make or break how easy it is for you to get through it on your own. If you take care of yourself, it should be easier. If, however, you neglect your sleep and your nourishment, research says it’ll be much, much more difficult.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “Who are you, the heat expert?”
