Chapter 6
I saton the couch and cursed heat while I worked. August cleaned every possible surface with his unscented multipurpose solution.
Countertops.
Tables.
Chairs.
The fridge.
The TV.
Doorknobs.
Walls.
He stopped long enough to put our dinner in the oven, then went back to cleaning.
When he came over to the couch with his spray, I gave him a warning look. “I don’t think you’re supposed to use that on fabric.”
“It’ll survive.”
Without further ado, he sprayed it, wiping at it pointlessly—and roughly—with his towel.
I eyed him as his hands and spray bottle neared my backside.
My body ached too much to get up. He’d just have to go around me.
My ass was probably wet with sweat, too. I was so damn miserable.
August didn’t so much as pause, though. He dropped his spray bottle and towel on the couch in one motion, and scooped me and my computer up into his arms in another.
I would’ve protested, if the motion hadn’t put his skin on mine.
In less than a heartbeat, all the soreness in my muscles vanished.
The warmth, too.
Instead of setting me down on the floor or the wet part of the couch, he narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re sweating.”
He’d felt the sweat on the backs of my thighs.
Well, that was embarrassing.
“I’m fine,” I said.
Was I blushing?
Yup.
Blushing hard.
Why had society made sweat such a taboo thing? Everyone sweats!
Then again, most people didn’t sweat in an air-conditioned room in the middle of the mountains.
That was all heat’s doing.
The butt sweat, the thigh sweat, the underboob sweat… shudder.
“I didn’t ask if you were okay. I said you’re sweating.”
“You sent me into heat, remember? Pretty sure heat equals sweating.”
“It does. But if you’re feeling symptoms, you need to tell me. I can’t feel what you’re feeling. I don’t know if you’re hot, or in pain.”
“I told you, I’m fine. You don’t need to hold me like this.”
He scowled, but carried me into the kitchen and set me down at the table. “When you get hot or start feeling pain, say something.”
“Alright.”
It wasn’t the truth.
I’d stay quiet until I had melted into a puddle of sweat, or the pain was bad enough to make me feel like I’d been stabbed. Not because I was a martyr. Because I was a stubborn bitch, and I wasn’t about to throw myself into August’s arms.
If I jumped into his arms, I wouldn’t want to leave until heat was over.
And I was not going to prison because I couldn’t resist sleeping with some gorgeous supernatural guy.
The pain was survivable.
It would have to be.
He continued cleaning the couch, then disappeared into one of the rooms.
“I don’t want all-purpose spray on my bedding!” I called over my shoulder. “I’ll throw it in the wash if it smells bad!”
“Alright.”
A few minutes later, I heard the washer door open.
I’d forgotten to switch the laundry.
Whoops.
“I’ll switch it,” I added.
“I’m already doing it.”
A minute later, I heard the dryer start. The washer followed.
When he made it back into the kitchen, I apologized quickly.
“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to clean up after me. I should’ve set a timer.”
He flashed me an irritated look. “I’m the reason you’re stuck here, Fireball. I can handle a few chores.”
Well, then.
He wasn’t wrong.
“A thank you is better than an apology most of the time,” August said, pulling the oven door open to check on the food.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
The food must not have been done, because he headed back into the bedrooms to start disinfecting things again.
I worked a bit more, but he came back after ten minutes or so.
“Is your sense of smell really good enough to bother wiping down the fabric couch?” I asked him, more curious than anything else.
“Not usually.”
I waited for him to clarify, but he didn’t.
He hadn’t responded poorly to me pushing or asking questions yet, so I figured it was worth a shot.
“What does that mean?”
“My sense of smell is only slightly better than a human’s most of the time. Mating is the only thing that changes it.”
“How does it change?”
“Some kinds of lizards have something on the roof of their mouth that helps their sense of smell. Dragons have them too—but they’re only active as far as our mates go. It’s a mesh between tasting and smelling. Supposedly, I’ll be able to tell your needs apart based on your smell when I get used to it. Right now, all the scents in the house are making it impossible and driving me insane.”
“Damn.”
“Yup.” He opened the oven door to check on the food again.
I guess he was satisfied with how it looked, because he pulled it out a minute later, without bothering to grab oven mitts.
My eyebrows raised in alarm, but he showed no sign that his skin was burning.
Guess it made sense for dragons to be fireproof.
He dished up food for us, then grabbed glasses of water and filled them before joining me at the table.
We ate in relative silence. The food was great, so I’d have to text Brynn to thank her.
When we were done eating, August put the dishes in the dishwasher without so much as suggesting I should do it. I stayed at the table and went back to work while he returned to his beloved multi-purpose spray.
Soon enough, he swapped his spray for a vacuum.
When my blankets were clean and dry, I retreated to my room with a murmured goodnight, locking my door and tucking myself into bed.
My body ached horribly.
The sweating was insane.
I ended up throwing the blankets to the foot of the bed, and changing into a clean tank top and a pair of the cheeky panties I preferred. The rest of my clothes, and August’s, could screw off.
I tried to fall asleep, but couldn’t.
Instead, I spent the night tossing, turning, and wincing with just about every motion.
I might have heard rhythmic footsteps in the hallway throughout the night. Part of me was positive August was pacing out there in the early hours of the morning.
The other part of me thought I was just hallucinating because I couldn’t sleep.
It took a hell of a lot of effort to stop myself from going out there to see if he was actually walking around…
And even more effort to convince myself that climbing into bed with him wasn’t the answer to my problems.
He was the cure for my discomfort.
But I couldn’t embrace it. Not yet. I still wasn’t sure what I wanted to do about the whole mate thing.
So, I stayed in bed, cursing myself and the situation I’d landed in. And wishing I had listened to Brynn’s conversation with her brother before assuming she was in danger and interrupting.
That night felt like a year.
When I finally shuffled out of my room around five AM, I stopped in the hallway.
August was at the end of it, shirtless, messy-haired, and wearing just a pair of sweats.
He was insanely gorgeous.
And it looked like he really had been pacing.
His eyes dipped to my tits.
Mine did too.
Yeah, I hadn’t changed out of the tank top and panties. The tank was white, damp with my sweat, and definitely see-through. The navy-blue panties offered coverage, at least.
I looked back at his eyes, and found them blazing brightly. The look on his face was intense in a way I’d never seen from him, or any other man.
And he was still looking at my very-visible-nipples.
The rest of my body, too.
I’d never felt so sexy in my life.
A new wave of heat rolled down my spine, and my back arched a little with the discomfort.
“You’re in pain,” he growled, finally looking at my eyes.
“I’m fine,” I whispered.
If I’d spoken any louder, I was pretty sure my voice would crack.
It had been a long, long night, and lack of sleep always made me feel emotional.
He crossed the space between us in three long steps, but I held up a hand before he touched me.
He stopped abruptly when I did.
That alone told me I could trust him to respect my body, at least.
“Yes, I’m in pain,” I said quietly. “And sweating like a fiend. It sucks, but I’m surviving.”
His jaw clenched.
The fire in his eyes burned brighter.
But he finally jerked his head in a nod. “I’ll fight the need to soothe you as long as I can.”
“Thank you.”
I stepped past him, grabbing my laptop off the kitchen table and slipping out to the porch. It was cool enough outside to make me feel a little better. And hey, at least I’d have a good view out there while I suffered.
Since August had already seen my nipples and underwear, I didn’t bother putting more clothes on yet. I was miserable enough in what I had on. Wearing more fabric would only make that worse.
I opened my laptop and tried to work on my project, but failed. My mind was so fuzzy, it was practically spinning. Focusing was impossible.
Half an hour and absolutely zero progress later, I closed my laptop again and lifted my thighs to my chest. My heels dug in to the bottom of the porch swing, and I hugged my knees close.
Tears stung my eyes.
I hated crying, and rarely did so—but between the discomfort and lack of sleep, fighting the emotions was useless.
I was exhausted.
I was sweaty.
I was horny.
Why was I even resisting the urge to let August soothe me?
Sometime during the night, I’d forgotten. Maybe there had never been a reason.
He clearly wasn’t Dickwad. He hadn’t shown any sign of violence, and dragons were protectors.
The smell of something cooking hit my nose. Pancakes, maybe?
I was too tired to get up and check, or look around.
I wanted to call my friends. To tell them the truth. To hear someone tell me that I was stronger than I felt, and that I was going to be okay. But even if I could, I wasn’t sure I would actually ask for help or comfort.
Usually, I dealt with difficult things on my own.
I took in a shaky breath, then watched the sun rise over the forest and forced myself to reconsider my situation. I wiped away my tears as they fell, but there was no stopping them. Once the flood gates were open, it was nearly impossible to close them again.
I was trapped in a cabin with a dragon shifter. We were going through a magical mating process that would make me horny and uncomfortable if I tried to maintain distance between us.
He seemed like a decent enough guy, considering he’d raised his baby sister and protected her no matter the cost.
Plus, he respected me when I told him not to touch me.
And he was gorgeous. Insanely so.
Sleeping with him definitely wouldn’t be a hardship. Pun not intended.
Hell, it could even be fun.
He’d made it sound like heat’s magic was pushing him to make my pleasure and comfort a priority, so what was the point in staying away from him?
If I had to choose between pain and misery, or hot sex, the answer seemed pretty obvious.
August came out of the house soon enough, carrying two plates loaded with bacon, pancakes, and syrup. It smelled good, but my stomach was too twisted to be hungry.
“Is that seat open?” He looked at the space next to me, where my laptop was currently sitting.
I nodded, moving my computer to the porch floor.
August didn’t mention the crying, thankfully.
He sat down beside me, and his arm brushed mine.
I inhaled sharply as the heat and soreness vanished instantly, and I leaned against him a little more as I lowered my feet back to the porch.
He set a plate on top of my thighs, sliding closer until we were pressed together.
The relief was incredible.
And with my discomfort gone, I was suddenly hungry.
Ravenously, painfully hungry.
I cleaned my overflowing plate quickly. It was nearly twice as much as I would usually eat, but I didn’t let myself consider that. My mind was feeling clearer and stronger with every bite.
“The heat’s magic is hard on your body. You’ll need to eat more than usual,” August said. “Especially if we’re fighting it.”
“How much worse is it going to get?” I asked.
He was silent for a beat.
It was long enough for me to sigh in response.
“This is still the beginning, Fireball. Right now, the magic just wants us touching.”
Eventually, it would want us having sex.
I bit my lip. “How are we going to do it?”
“Not like this.”
He took my empty plate, stacked it on his, and set them both on the wooden planks at his feet.
When he draped an arm lightly over my shoulder, I couldn’t stop myself from leaning closer. Not just because of the relief from pain, but because he was strong.
Steady.
Calm, too.
The sunrise was much prettier when I was with him like that.
A few minutes passed before either of us spoke again.
“What’s our best chance?” I asked him.
August didn’t answer right away.
He took a moment to really consider it, which I appreciated.
Finally, he said, “If you keep trying to deal with it on your own, you’re going to end up curled in a ball of agony. I’ll keep fighting my instincts, but knowing you’re in pain makes it much harder. We’ll make it a week or two, but I’ll eventually break, and you’ll be so desperate for relief that you’ll beg me to take you.”
Despite his words, his voice was neutral. He didn’t seem to want me begging, and he didn’t want to lose control.
“What’s the alternative?”
“We become a team.”
“What?”
He explained, “If we rely on each other, we can retain control for as long as possible, and we’ll be more likely to make it through.”
“How do we do that?”
“We satisfy the magic.”
I blinked.
The magic wanted us to have sex and seal the bond. Weren’t we fighting it to avoid that outcome?
“Not by making it permanent,” he said, as if reading my mind. “We satisfy it like this.” He pulled me a little closer, and I remembered that his arm was around my shoulder. It felt so right, I had stopped noticing it somehow.
“By touching?”
“For now, yes. The magic wants us touching, so we touch. We can do so as friends. Sitting together while you work. Sleeping in the same bed, with pillows between us if that’s what will make you comfortable. When the magic pushes for more, we give it more.”
“How much more?” I countered.
“From what I understand, the next thing it will do is push us to touch moreintimately. I can give you that without sealing the bond, and take care of my needs myself. At that point, we just have to retain a shred of control to stop ourselves from taking it all the way.”
My face warmed, but not because of the heat.
We were practically strangers, and we were talking about sex casually. While we sat on the porch swing and watched the sunset. It was bizarre, but not wrong. If anything, it was exactly right, because it was what the bond wanted from us.
“So you’re proposing friends with benefits?” I asked.
“Sounds about right.”
I’d come to the same conclusion myself, and stopped crying, thankfully. “It would be less shitty than trying to muscle our way through it on our own, I guess. And it has a better potential outcome.”
“Yup.”
“Alright, I’m in. We’re a couple for the next four weeks. Practically attached to each other. It’ll be fun.”
He chuckled. “Fun isn’t the word I’d use, Fireball.”
I couldn’t hold back a smile.
It really could be fun.