He shrugs a shoulder in a casual, helpless sort of way. “What I have with Hale is new. We’re only newlyweds once. I figure I should appreciate it while it’s here. I want to make every moment count.”
Chapter Nineteen
Hale
It’s been a week since the embarrassing interview.
Two days since the competition was cut in half.
One hour since I locked myself in the shower and jerked off to the image of my sexy kraken grinding his hard cock against mine with a cocky smirk on his face in an attempt to keep the public arousal to a minimum.
Spoiler alert: itdidn’t work.
When we aren’t doing shoots for the show, we’re hanging out with Eric. He insists he isn’t cock-blocking us, but somehow, he is always there, materializing out of thin air like a judgmental fairy godmother. Aksel and I haven’t had a single second alone since my minor emotional collapse at eliminations, and while it’s only been a few days, I’m starting to feel feral.
If I don’t get alone time with my husband soon, I might murder my best friend. I’ll miss him dearly, but I need relief dammit. What’s the point of being married if I can’t take advantage of the sex part of it?
Eric is waiting in the hallway when I step out of my room, already vibrating with excitement. The remaining contestants are gathering to watch the first episode. He gives me a smug little finger wave, then turns and slaps his palm flat against Aksel’s door.
The sound cracks through the hallway like a gunshot.
I flinch. Aksel’s door flies open, and he looks just as startled, hair still damp and skin flushed from the hot shower he must’ve taken.
“Let’s go, lovebirds,” Eric sing-songs. “Time’s a-wastin’.”
“Eric,” Aksel says dryly as we head toward the elevator, “It’s been so long.”
His tone sparks something low in my gut.
Maybe I’m projecting, but Aksel looks… tight. His shoulders are set, fists flexing at his sides like he’s holding himself back from something. His brow glistens faintly, and his jaw works as if he’s grinding his teeth.
An affection-starved alpha, maybe?
Or maybe I’m a horny omega seeing signs where I want them.
Still, a man can dream.
When the elevator dings, I grab Eric’s arm and tell Aksel to save us a couple of seats. He lifts a brow at me, curious, but doesn’t push. The doors slide shut, leaving me alone with my best friend and my rapidly unraveling patience.
I turn on Eric the secondwe’re alone.
“Don’t give me that look,” I snap, jabbing a finger at his chest.
“What look?” he asks, eyes wide in feigned innocence.
“You know exactly what look. Quit playing dumb and tell me why you’ve been glued to Aksel and me for days.”
He drops the act instantly.
“You told me you weren’t comfortable with how fast things were moving,” he says simply. “So, I made you slow down. Easy peasy.”
He presses the button to call the elevator back as I stare at him, dumbfounded.
“Huh?”
Eric sighs like I’m the dumbest person he’s ever met aswestepontotheelevator.“Iwasgivingyoutimewith your husband without your pheromones running the show. You were worried you wouldn’t actually like each other, or that it was all hormones and repressed sexual tension.”
He pats my cheek patronizingly.
