Chapter 11
ADAM
I wasn’t sure what came over me.
One minute, I was half-heartedly watching some comedy sitcom, letting the background noise fill the room. The next, I found myself standing in the kitchen doorway, watching Fletcher.
He was humming softly under his breath, meticulously washing the dishes, completely absorbed in the task.
And suddenly, I was overwhelmed with the need to touch him. It was as if some invisible thread pulled me forward, guiding me right to him, a beacon in the night.
I didn’t even hear his questions.
Before I realized what I was doing, I was walking up behind Fletcher, close enough to feel his warmth, close enough to breathe him in.
I dropped my nose to the short hairs at the nape of his neck and breathed in deeply.
He went very still beneath me.
His breath hitched, short and sharp, before I felt him arch back, just slightly, into my space.
Fuck.
I wanted to make a move. Every part of me screamed to reach out, to touch, to taste, to claim him. My wolf rioted beneath my skin, yipping his pleas to the sky. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep them at bay.
I couldn’t. I knew better.
My parents had a plan for me. They expected me to marry—not for love, but for money. They expected me to wed a wealthy Omega female, to secure alliances, and to carry on the Sinclair family name.
That was my future.
I didn’t even think my father believed in love.
I was the eldest Sinclair son, the heir to the company and my father’s estate. I couldn’t do this. No matter how much I wanted it. No matter what my heart said.
Growling softly, I forced myself to step back. Then, without a word, I turned and left the kitchen, leaving Fletcher standing there alone, no doubt wondering what the hell just happened.
I took the stairs two at a time, my heart thumping almost erratic. Everything inside of me screamed to go back. To press my body to his. To kiss him and swallow any questions he might’ve had.
No.
My wolf paced, snarling and clawing at the edges of my control. Mate, he insisted, whining low. Ours.
But how could that be? Fletcher wasn’t even a wolf.
Feeling unsteady, I retreated to my bedroom and sank down at the desk, dropping my head into my hands.
Damn it.
My cock was half-hard in my slacks, pulsing with the want I was trying so hard to ignore. My body reacted to Fletcher. My soul reacted to Fletcher.
It could be just sex, my mind taunted me, spurred on by my needy dick. Your parents don’t ever need to find out.
But deep down, I knew better.
I wanted more than sex.
I liked Fletcher—his curiosity, his bright-eyed outlook on life, his sweet-as-cinnamon personality.
It wouldn’t simply be a hookup. It wouldn’t even be casual. My feelings were already tangled up, and if I let this happen, I’d have a mess on my hands. I’d be torn between duty and…love.
I paused, lifting my head.
Love? Could I love Fletcher?
What if… What if I did want to date him? What then? Could we keep it quiet? Could I keep something like this a secret from my parents?
With a deep, frustrated sigh, I buried my face in my hands once more, my skull starting to pound with the beginnings of a headache.
Damn it all. Why did feelings have to be so hard?
I knew how I felt, but I didn’t know if Fletcher felt the same way. He was so young, still clinging to threads of his innocence despite the months spent on the street. This wasn’t something I could rush headlong into.
I pushed up out of the chair and raked a hand through my hair. Maybe what I needed was a shower…and a little relief.
I moved into the adjoined master bathroom and stripped out of my clothes, tossing them into the hamper next to the pedestal sink. I grabbed a plush blue towel from the cabinet and set it on the hamper lid, then turned the water as hot as I could stand it.
I hissed when I stepped beneath the spray, the heat scalding my slightly-sunburnt skin. I’d spent a lot of time outdoors with Fletcher this summer and, admittedly, wasn’t the best about remembering sunscreen. You’d think I would’ve tanned by now, but fair skin tends to burn and peel.
I shampooed and conditioned my hair, letting it rinse clear, before moving to the bar of soap. I made quick work of lathering up my body. Once I was clean, I leaned back against the shower wall and let the hot water spray over me.
My cock, still half-hard, gave a twitch at the memory of what Fletcher’s body had felt like, pressed up against mine for those few moments.
The way his breath had caught, the way his heartbeat had picked up, pattering at his throat.
How I could’ve sworn he’d arched back into me, like he’d wanted it too.
I stroked myself, letting myself imagine an alternate reality—one where I didn’t turn and walk away.
One where I slowly flipped Fletcher around, caging him in against the countertop with my arms. One where I rocked our bodies together as I leaned down and captured his lips in a sweet, tentative kiss.
Just until I was sure he wanted me back.
Images flooded my brain, sparks shooting through me as if I’d been short-circuited. God, I wanted him. I’d wanted him for weeks, but I just couldn’t wrap my head around what might happen to our hearts when things ended. Not because we wanted them to, but because of my duty.
Because of my parents.
Did I dare start something with Fletcher? Did I let it burn hot and fast like a wildfire, even if it meant we burnt out at the end and went our separate ways?
Emotion caught in my throat at the thought. He’d become so ingrained in my everyday activities that I couldn’t imagine him leaving. I wanted more than just this friends-slash-roommates situation, though.
I wanted him. All of him.
I was just scared.
My fist moved faster, my eyes fluttering shut.
My head fell back against the tile wall with a soft thunk as my breath came in soft pants.
Pleasure swirled through me as I imagined Fletcher—beautiful, innocent Fletcher—on his knees in front of me, his head tipped back, his mouth open and tongue out, waiting for my release.
I came with a cry, grabbing onto the wall for purchase as my hips jerked. Cum splattered the shower curtain, leaving streaks of milky white. I stared at them while I fought to catch my breath.
Fuck. I was so fucked.
Using the detachable shower head, I cleaned the mess off the curtains and the floor of the tub, then myself, and finished up in the bathroom. I stepped out onto the rug and dried off, then wrapped the towel around my waist and wandered back into my room.
I felt a little better. Sated, at least, by the time I climbed into bed nude. The sheets were cool against my heated, damp skin as I sprawled out with a sigh.
The one thing I did know? I didn’t need to make any big decisions tonight. I could puzzle through it when I was feeling a little more…logical.
I closed my eyes and keened my ears to the sounds of the manor. It was silent. The television had been turned off, and there were no hall lights shining beneath my door, which probably meant that Fletcher had gone to bed.
I felt like an ass for just abandoning him tonight, when we usually watched TV together, but I’d needed to get out of there. Hopefully he’d accept my apology over breakfast and things would be okay between us.
It was always darkest before the dawn.