Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
brIELLE
T he unsettling need that’s slowly dissipated over the last couple weeks comes roaring back on the drive back to Creek Falls. By the time I’ve gotten out of the shower and started the laundry from the camping trip, it’s bad enough I’m ready to tear apart the entire guest house. I drop onto the bed, burying my head in the one pillow that still has a bit of Caleb’s cinnamon scent on it. Instead of calming me, it just sets the itchy, relentless need burrowing deeper.
There’s no denying the one scent I’m craving right now. Not to myself at least.
If Ethan had been scarce before he’d lifted me onto a picnic table and kissed me breathless in the middle of the Wyoming wilderness, then he’s practically gone invisible in the forty-eight hours since. Not even the small confines of the campsite was enough to get us close enough that I could try to figure out how to bring up the way my body sings for him—the hard reality that he’s likely my scent match, too. Just like Caleb.
Heat surges through me, and I groan, dropping my head into the pillow.
I won’t pull out a vibrator. Not yet. Not for him. Not when the only memories I have of him saying a damn thing to me are still a decade old. Even if he’s meant for me, designed for me. Even if his mint haunts my fucking dreams right now.
Lavender floods the room, overpowering the purifier I have running in the corner.
Damn it.
Distraction is paramount right now.
It’s like the universe hears me because the dryer’s signal weaves through the cabin. I jump up and set about getting the clothes put away, forcing thoughts of Ethan and his damnable mint scent out of my frazzled mind.
A single knock on the closed door of the guest house pulls me from my thoughts—that are definitely not about a certain damn Alpha with tattooed arms and a beard that could be used for modeling. I drop the dress I’ve been putting away for the last few minutes onto the bed and cross the small cabin, adjusting my shirt dress and pulling my hair over one shoulder so that it covers the dark bruise Caleb left on it early this morning.
My thighs clench as I open the door.
Caleb leans against the threshold, his hands in his pockets, his hair still damp from a shower.
“I thought you had to go back as soon as we were done at the lake,” I whisper, forgetting a greeting.
“Yeah, I do,” he says. He pushes off the threshold and palms my waist, his cinnamon scent surrounding me. His voice is nothing but raspy hunger. “But I needed to say goodbye properly first.”
Lavender explodes from me, and he groans. He lifts me and kicks the door closed in one single, fluid move that has slick rushing down my thighs. I’m expecting him to take me to my bedroom—my nest—but instead he lays me out on the kitchen’s peninsula. The counter is cold against my skin, and I gasp, my nipples pebbling as goosebumps race across my legs. His hands are unerring, unrelenting, as he pushes up my dress and twists the seams of my panties in his grasp.
“Are these ones La Perla, too?” he asks.
When I nod, he grins. And then he rips them at the seams and tosses them across the room.
“Caleb,” I gasp.
He chuckles, and another wave of need rushes through me. His tongue is warm and undeniable against my skin, drawing me into the torrent of need we share. The orgasm races through me, overcomes me, within minutes, surprising us both. He laughs against my skin, palming my thighs to keep them open even as my body ratchets tighter again.
My hands bury in his hair, my nails pricking his skin, and he laughs harder, nearly giddy.
“Three days with you feet from me,” he whispers. “And that damn swimsuit that’s burned into my damn mind. Three days, a swimsuit, and your scent all over my tent, and I couldn’t knot you. Fuck, Brielle, that was three days too many.”
He pulls my clit between his teeth, and I arch on a cry.
“Not to mention that you smelled like Ethan that first day, too.”
He pushes his tongue into me, and I moan.
“Caleb,” I whisper, pulling on his short hair. “Please.”
He smiles and pinches my clit.
“Soon, sweetheart,” he murmurs.
I can’t help but whine.
It’s not until he’s pulled a second blindingly overwhelming orgasm from me that he lifts his head and undoes his jeans. My legs are covered in my slick, and my scent surrounds us both. Need still courses through me, so strong I’m practically choking on it. I sit up even as my fingers still tingle, needing to feel him, touch him, taste him.
“I need you,” I admit as I scrabble at his shirt, forcing it over his head and then licking up his throat. His laugh is breathless now.
“You have me, sweetheart,” he says, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.
He doesn’t waste another second, sinking into me with a single hard thrust that has my toes curling and a moan echoing around the room. He loops his arms under my legs, forcing the angle deeper. I grab the edge of the counter to keep from overbalancing as he forces a hard pace.
“Caleb,” I gasp.
“I love it when you say it like that,” he says. “That little whine you get when you’re so damn close to the edge. It keeps me so fucking hard when I’m flying and supposed to be focusing on other things.”
I clench around him, his voice another layer of sensation I can’t resist.
His hips stutter for a heartbeat, and then he pulls me into him, forcing himself as deep as he can go. He mutters a curse as he comes, and then his knot locks us in place. I fall off the edge again, my knees clenching around his waist as the pleasure turns nearly painful. My scent overpowers his, overpowers the entire cabin. He presses his lips into my throat, the smile curving them warming me even as I try to find the way back down from the sensations he’s wrung from my body. He runs his hand through my hair. I collapse against him and press my cheek against his chest, letting my eyes close as he pulls me tighter into him.
“The edge is gone,” he says, pride in his voice.
I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, it finally is.”
I don’t mention the odd need that was eating away at me before he came by, though. Maybe it had just been an odd form of nesting.
He kisses my temple as his knot finally releases us. He pushes me back onto the counter, holding my hair until he’s confident I’m steady without him. I tuck his cock back away, careful of the zipper. And then he crosses the kitchen and grabs one of the hand towels, running it under the warm water before bringing it over to me.
“What happened to using your shirt?” It’s his preferred method of cleaning me up afterward.
He raises a single eyebrow. “If I use it, you’ll have to wash it. Which defeats the purpose of leaving it here with you.”
My cheeks heat. “I wasn’t going to keep it.”
He laughs and urges my knees apart. I hiss as he wipes up our combined mess, and he croons low in his throat. Once everything is cleaned, he eases my dress back down.
As he returns from putting the dirty cloth in the washer, he says, “It’s either the shirt I wore in here or the sweatshirt I haven’t washed from camping. And I figured the shirt was a better bet.”
He grabs it from the floor and tucks it into my hands. I can’t help but bring it to my nose and breathe in. The cinnamon is so strong I moan. He cups my cheek as he chuckles again. It’s almost enough to ease away my growing nerves.
“We should probably talk about him and how I kissed him,” I whisper.
Caleb hums. “I never expected to be exclusive,” he says. “Omegas aren’t built like that.”
He presses his thumb into my lips.
“He hasn’t talked to me since,” I admit.
His mouth tightens. “Yeah, I guess that shouldn’t surprise me. Ethan’s phenomenal at keeping his head up his ass.”
My laugh is tired.
“I’m not a stranger to being in a pack, Brielle,” he says, abnormally humorless. He moves his hand until he cups the nape of my neck. His kiss is light yet utterly serious. “All I ask is that you let me know about anyone else.”
“I can do that.”
“Good.” He kisses me again, this one longer. “Tell Hudson if you need something, including smuggling scents out of my house. He’ll understand.”
He eases away from me, and I hop off the counter, leaving his shirt behind. I lace his fingers with mine as he heads to the front door.
As he starts onto the porch, I whisper, “I love you.”
He pauses, his lips quirking up for a heartbeat. A lump settles in my throat. I hadn’t actually meant to say that.
“Yeah?” he asks, squeezing my hand.
When I nod, he closes the distance between us and presses me into the threshold. This kiss is deeper, hotter, and it has me whining before he pulls away.
“Love you, too, Omega,” he whispers. A thrill shoots down my spine. “I’ll see you soon.”