“I’m pretty sure you just asked me to bond you.”
I stare at him, annoyance flickering through the haze of want. Aren’t alphas supposed to be the ones who lose their minds at the first whiff of omega heat? Isn’t that the whole evolutionary point—centuries of biology designed to turn them into single-minded breeding machines the moment pheromones hit the air?
And yet here’s Atticus Sloan, Hollywood’s favorite bad boy, stopping totalkwhile I’m practically combusting in his lap.
“Yes,” I bite out. “And?”
His eyes widen. “Phoenix, that’s the heat talking.”
“No, it’s me talking. Because my mouth is moving.” I shove at his chest, frustration boiling over. “You’ve been sniffing after me for weeks. Following me around like a lost puppy. Agreeing to this whole fake relationship thing just to spend time with me.” My hand drops between us, palming the hard length still straining against his jeans. His hips jerk involuntarily, a strangled sound escaping his throat. “Well, congratulations. Here’s your chance. You want me, come and get me.”
I squeeze. His eyes slam shut.
“Fuck, Phoenix…”
“So do something with this.” My voice drops to something low and dangerous. “Or I’ll do it myself.”
TWENTY-TWO
ATTICUS
The words landlike a thrown gauntlet.
So do something with this. Or I’ll do it myself.
Phoenix’s fingers squeeze around my cock through my jeans, and for one crystalline moment, every rational thought in my head evaporates. My hips buck up of their own accord, chasing the pressure, the friction, the maddening promise of her touch. Her scent floods my nostrils—vanilla and citrus and the richer, deeper signature of an omega in full heat.
My instincts howl at me to flip her onto her back. To pin her wrists above her head and take what she’s so desperately offering. To sink my teeth into the soft curve of her neck and make hermine.
It would fucking serve her right.
The thought surfaces unbidden, dark and tempting. This gloriously manipulative little brat, throwing herself at me because she’s sad about Mason. Using me as a convenient distraction from whatever complicated feelings she can’t deal with. Demanding a claiming bite like it’s a fucking party favor she can request from any alpha who happens to be nearby.
If I bonded her right now, she’d be stuck with me forever. No take-backs. No morning-after regrets. Just the permanent, irreversible reality of being tied to Atticus Sloan for the rest of her life.
The fantasy plays out in vivid detail. Her face when she realizes what she’s done. The horror bleeding into acceptance bleeding into—eventually, inevitably—something else entirely. Because bonds work both ways. She’d feel what I feel. She’dknow.
But that’s not what I want.
I don’t want Phoenix Riviera heat-drunk and desperate, clinging to me because she doesn’t have any better options. I don’t want to be the convenient alpha who happened to be in the right place when her hormones overrode her judgment.
I want her tochooseme.
I want her to look me in the eye, stone-cold sober, fully in possession of her faculties, and demand a claiming bite because she actually, genuinely wants to spend the rest of her life tangled up with mine.
I want the real thing.
The fact that she would tempt me with anything less is exasperating.
“Phoenix.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “I need to think. Take your hand off my cock so we can talk about this.”
Her grip tightens. “Make me.”
The challenge sparks something in my chest—not just arousal, though there’s plenty of that, but something sharper. Something that recognizes exactly what she’s doing and refuses to play along.
Fine.
I move before she can react.
