So why does the idea of never touching her again feel like being trapped in a nest of fire ants?
You know why, my inner alpha growls in my head.
I glance at my phone again, tempted to send another message. Something casual and flippant. “If we are finally done, let me know at least so I’m not worried you’re drowning in the Hudson or something.” Is that too desperate?
Jesus. I’m such an embarrassment.
I push up from my chair and start pacing the living room, restless energy crawling up my spine. Emotions rise in my chest like high tide, threatening to choke me. Anger. Want. Jealousy. Sadness.
Then I hear it. A soft knock at the door.
Relief floods me so quickly, it almost hurts. I cross the room and swing the door open wide. Ava stands on the other side, her face a mask of cool disinterest. Oversized sweatpants hang low on her hips, swallowing her frame. A cropped black top shows a wide swath of skin from just under her breasts to her waist. Wait, are those sneakers? I wouldn’t have guessed she owned any.
I blink in surprise, and my eyes travel upward. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail, loose strands escaping, damp at the temples like she’s been moving hard and sweating.
Jealousy flares instantly, sharp and irrational.
“Where have you been?” I growl, opening the door further to let her slip inside.
She arches a perfectly shaped brow. Talking is not generally something we do. “Not that it’s any of your business,” she says coolly, slipping past me, “but I was at dance class.” She kicks the door shut behind her, and then tugs her top over her head and lets it fall to the floor without looking at me.
“If you want this,” she adds lightly, glancing back at me over her shoulder, “we’re doing it in the shower. I’m not sitting around in sweat.”
Heat fills my veins, and I follow her to the bathroom. We’ve both been to each other’s apartments enough that we know our way around them. I grab the end of her ponytail, wrapping it around my hand and pulling her back to me. I inhale along her throat, filling my lungs with her. There’s sweat there, yes, butunderneath it is the orange creamsicle scent I’m obsessed with. Fuck. It’s closer to the surface than it’s ever been before.
“Maybe I want you sweaty,” I rasp in her ear, cupping one of her breasts in my other hand. I gently tug and roll her nipple between my fingers, and she gasps, melting back into my touch briefly before shaking her head like she’s trying to make herself focus. She wiggles out of my arms and shimmies out of her shoes and sweats, leaving her in the simplest black thong I’ve ever seen her in.
Ava in fancy, high-end lingerie always sets my blood aflame, but for some reason, seeing her in sweats and cotton underwear has me half-feral.
I tug my clothes off as she turns on the shower and steps inside. She barely has a chance to get under the spray of hot water before I have her pressed to the wall. My alpha is livid that her scent is already being washed away.
I press my mouth to hers, devouring the taste of her. She makes a tiny, needy sound low in her throat, sweeping her tongue against mine.
This woman does things to me I cannot describe.
I grip the round globes of her ass with both hands, giving them a firm squeeze before sliding my palms to her thighs and picking her up. I press her back to the wall of the shower, smirking at the hiss she makes when her skin hits the cold tile. She quickly forgets it though, as I slam myself inside her with one thrust.
“Fuck, Mark,” she moans against my mouth.
My hips set a deep, brutal rhythm as I take out all the emotions I’ve been feeling on her body.
“I’m going to fuck you until I’ve had my fill,” I growl into her ear. “Then I’ll clean you up and take you to my bed, where I’m going to devour you until you beg me for mercy because you can’t take another orgasm. And then I’m going to keep going.”
I can’t let go of her ass to work her clit like I want to without risking injury to us both, so instead, I hike one of her thighs higher. “Put your fucking leg on my shoulder, Ava,” I say, knowing she’s flexible enough. One rare occasion when she’d been feeling mildly chatty, she’d told me about her ballet and dance background.
She whimpers, but does as she’s told, and the change in angle puts me deeper while rubbing her clit against my pelvic bone. She half-sobs in pleasure as I keep up my relentless pace. I feel her flutter around my cock, and I can tell she’s close.
“Come for me, baby, I’ve got you,” I whisper hotly against her mouth. Orange and cream floods my nose, and the dangerous fog of a rut closes in at the edges of my consciousness. I manage to stay in control and focus on nothing but the woman in my arms.
Chapter Eleven
Ava
The fact that I have spent the last several minutes scanning this ballroom for a glimpse of Mark feels like the worst kind of betrayal. Et tu, brain?
My pulse stutters every time I spot a broad-shouldered, dark-haired alpha in a tux, only for him to turn, or for me to catch a trace of his scent and realize he’s not the one I want him to be. I am officially suffering from the most advanced case of dumb-bitchitis in recorded history.
My date drones on about load-bearing walls and tensile stress, his nasally voice grating along my nerves. I nod mechanically, making a half-hearted sound of interest that I hope doesn’t show my boredom.
