16. Sterling #2
I blush, remembering just how many times I masturbated while thinking about him and Cass and JP. I look away to hide my reddening cheeks and clear my throat.
“Not too much, just hung out at home.”
I can’t look away for very long. He’s magnetic. His scent envelops me, sweet mint and mandarins. I glance at him from the corner of my eye. I can’t seem to not look at him. I think I’ve mastered the art of not looking-looking.
The warm olive tone of his skin, the way his muscular arms flex as he shifts his weight, I know he could hold me up for hours without breaking a sweat.
His dark hair is a little too long, slightly wavy, tousled. And those damn joggers. They hug his ass so perfectly that my mouth goes dry, then waters all over again.
How the hell a CPA looks that good, I have no idea. But it’s distracting as all get out. I need to get out of here before I embarrass myself and perfume right here for every Alpha or Beta in a five-mile radius to scent me.
“Ma’am, cash or card?”
I blink, startled, tearing my gaze away from Quinn long enough to hand the clerk a crumpled ten-dollar bill, but my attention is still locked on Quinn.
“What about you?”
“Oh you know normal stuff, ran around with Blake, worked on the boat, went to the gym, took a shower. That kind of thing.” He says the last while running a hand through his damp hair.
The movement makes his arms flex and draws attention to just how tall and wide he is. He makes me feel tiny.
He sets a bottle of whiskey and a bag of chips on the checkout belt, but Quinn’s not even looking at the clerk. He’s looking at me.
My gaze flicks to the whiskey, and my mind wanders before I can stop it.
What are they doing tonight? Drinking? Laughing? Playing some ridiculous board game while Blake runs circles around them?
I imagine what it would be like to just…be there. To hang out with them. To get a little drunk and laugh at stupid dad jokes. To feel like I belonged somewhere…anywhere.
A sharp pang blooms in my chest—tight, unexpected, and so much deeper than I want to admit.
It’s loneliness.
“You like whiskey, Sterling?”
Quinn’s voice is smooth as sin, warm and teasing, and I swear it slides over my skin like velvet.
I blink up at him, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “I don’t know,” I admit honestly. “I’ve never tried it before.”
His brows shoot up, his grin slow and so full of masculine pride that it makes my stomach tighten.
“Now that’s a tragedy.” His voice dips, thick with amusement. “Sounds like you’re in need of some education.” It sounds so sexual I have to blink a few times.
I open my mouth, but then?—
“Me and the pack are just at home playing some video games…” He leans in slightly, just enough for his scent to brush over me.
“Do you want to come over? JP does need a new person to beat at Mario Kart.”
The way he says it, low, smooth, full of promise, makes my pulse stutter and elicits fantasies of all the things we could do instead.
And then he gives me that look. That deep, knowing look that says he knows exactly where my mind just went and likes it.
And fuck, my body reacts before I can stop it. Heat surges through me. I nearly groan out loud at the sharp, deep pulsing between my thighs, my slick pooling at my core, my breath hitching.
I shouldn’t be picturing it—shouldn’t be imagining myself, free of every insecurity, every inhibition, pressed between all three of them, tangled together in heat and sweat and pleasure.
But I do. And Quinn notices. His brow arches slightly, a small smile curving his lips, but he doesn’t say anything right away.
Instead, he tilts his head just a fraction, his nostrils flaring, scenting me. His eyes meet mine with a heavy gaze and I know—he can smell it. The shift in my scent.
I can tell by the way his pupils dilate, by the way his gaze darkens, by the way his sweet, minty citrus scent wraps around me like a net, pulling me in.
He leans forward just a bit, testing, teasing, waiting.
I squeeze my legs together as discreetly as possible, but I can already feel the heat creeping up my neck, the way my breath turns shallow, my heartbeat hammering against my ribs.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Sterling,” he says, voice dropping just a little, “we don’t have to play video games…”
His eyes flick down my body, slow and obvious, then back up to meet mine—smirking just enough to make my pulse stutter.
“Blake’s at his grandmother’s tonight. I’m sure we could think of something a lot less boring to do.”
Quinn’s voice is thick with innuendo, and it only makes the ache worse.
“Nope, can’t tonight. I have a date.” I gesture to the ice cream like it’s a perfectly valid excuse. “Mint chocolate chip. Very committed relationship.”
I need to leave.
A laugh explodes from him and I suddenly have another reason to run the other direction. I love this man’s laugh.
The heat is pooling deep in my belly, a sharp, aching pull curling at the base of my spine. My breath catches as my body responds to him—his scent, his closeness, the way he feels in the room with me.
I can feel it coming.
A heat spike.
Rising fast and begging to crest.
“Sterling, you okay?” he asks, all the flirting gone from his voice—just raw concern now.
I force a tight, breathless laugh and wave a hand way too fast.
“Yeah—yeah, totally fine,” I lie, my body on fire.
He closes his eyes for a heartbeat, inhaling deep and when he opens his eyes and meets mine his pupils are blown, and a flush of need on his warm skin.
And I feel it, deep inside me—the answering surge of his Alpha.
We might be playing at being civilized, exchanging pleasantries in the middle of a corner store, but our designations are ready to rut like animals.
“I’m fine,” I repeat, too quickly.
Quinn tilts his head slightly, nostrils flaring as he inhales.
Fuck.
“Sterling, if something’s wrong, you know we’re here to help you.” He reaches for his wallet, checking out.
No. Tried that with Cass and the whole thing left him cold. I don’t think I have the bandwidth right now to do that again.
“Okay. Thanks, but I’m fine,” I blurt out, grabbing my change and my ice cream, turning to leave without waiting for an answer.
I just need to get outside, to take a deep breath, to put space between us before he notices anything else.
“Wait,” he says, voice sharper now. He grabs his change and follows me out of the store.
His body straightens, shoulders squaring, the playful smirk gone, replaced by something darker.
I don’t stop.
I keep walking, stopping at the curb to cross the street.
But he’s right behind me.
“Sterling, wait.”
“Not tonight, Quinn,” I mumble, not turning around.
“Sterling. Wait, Come here.”
It’s not a question. It’s a command. And fuck—I feel it everywhere.
My feet freeze in place. My body locks up.
Pure Omega instinct overrides rational thought, my biology responding to the firm, undeniable order in his voice.
A shiver rolls down my spine, my legs suddenly feeling weak, my throat dry. Quinn must realize what he’s done because his voice softens immediately.
“Fuck, Sterling, I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to do that.”
I shake my head, taking a step back, trying to put distance between us. “I’m fine.”
Quinn inhales again, deeper this time. His jaw tightens.
“You’re not fine.”
“Quinn,” I say, my voice breathless, shaky. “I don’t?—”
“Your scent is different.” He keeps going, his voice low. “And I think I know why.”
My lungs lock up. No. No, no, no.
I shake my head, too fast. “You’re imagining things.”
Quinn presses his lips into a thin line, taking a tentative step closer. Like I’m a skittish horse. “Sterling, are you…are you going into heat?”
“What?” I ask, incredulously.
He doesn’t back down, doesn’t ease up, doesn’t let me pretend.
“I know that scent,” he says, softer now—his voice low, steady, concerned.
He steps closer to me, his scent warm and grounding.
“Are you okay?” he asks. “Have you talked to your doctor? Are you still taking your suppressants?” His gaze sweeps over me, protective and focused.
“It’s not safe for you to be out alone at night, not like this.”
I’ve never hated my Omega biology more than I do at this moment.
I hate that I can’t hide it, that it’s anyone else’s business, that this gorgeous Alpha knows what’s happening inside my body before I’ve told him anything.
And worst of all, I hate that my Omega wants nothing more than to submit to it.
To drop to my knees. To press my cheek to the ground and let him and his entire pack rut me like a fucking animal.
I hate it.
Because it scares me, terrifies me.
Not just how much I want it. Not just how much I might need it. But how much I’m afraid I’ll have to give away to have it.
How little I know about what I’m doing.
Quinn sees the panic on my face before I can hide it. His expression softens instantly.
“Sterling,” he murmurs, stepping closer, hands lifting to gently grip my upper arms.
I force myself to breathe. And then I pull out of his grip and turn away, all but running across the street.
“Please,” Quinn says, voice low, and so goddamn sincere. “If you need anything, anything at all—if you need us…just call.”
I don’t turn back. I don’t let myself.
“I’m fine, Quinn.”
He doesn’t believe me.