chapter THIRTY
Reese
S unlight filters through a gap in the hotel curtains, painting a golden stripe across the rumpled sheets.
I drift into consciousness slowly, my body a contradictory landscape of soreness and satisfaction.
Every muscle aches in the most delicious way.
Between my thighs, I'm tender and swollen, the pleasant aftermath of a night spent being thoroughly claimed without actually being claimed.
Behind me, Bo sleeps deeply, his massive frame curled protectively around mine. One heavy arm drapes over my waist, his large hand splayed possessively across my stomach. His breath comes in slow, steady puffs against the back of my neck, stirring loose strands of hair.
Heat still simmers beneath my skin, but it's banked now—a smoldering ember rather than the raging inferno of last night. The emergency suppressant has long since worn off, but Bo's Alpha pheromones have provided the temporary relief my body needed. Biology pacified, at least for the moment.
I should move. Should shower off the dried sweat and sticky evidence of our night together. Should start preparing for the journey back to campus.
Instead, I lie perfectly still, soaking in the rare feeling of safety. Of being completely wrapped in Alpha protection without judgment or expectation. Just pure, uncomplicated care.
Except it's not uncomplicated, is it?
My fingers trace lightly over Bo's forearm, feeling the solid strength there, the light dusting of golden hair.
This beautiful man spent all night satisfying my heat-driven needs, asking for nothing beyond what I freely gave.
He saw me—really saw me—at my most vulnerable and treated me like something precious.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be biological necessity, physical release, nothing more. But somewhere between that first kiss and this quiet morning after, something shifted between us. Something that can't be dismissed as mere designation chemistry.
Bo stirs behind me, his arm tightening around my waist as he surfaces toward consciousness. His body responds automatically to my proximity, hardening against the curve of my ass. A soft rumble vibrates through his chest. Not quite a growl, but something equally primal.
"Morning," he murmurs, voice rough with sleep. His lips find the back of my neck and shoulder, pressing lazy kisses against my skin, his morning stubble scratching me softly.
"Morning." I can't help but smile at the intimacy of the moment. "Sleep well?"
"Eventually." I can hear the smile in his voice. "Someone kept waking me up with rather demanding needs."
Heat floods my cheeks at the memory of the night's later rounds—how I'd straddled him in the darkness, taking what I needed while he watched me with reverent eyes. How he'd finally flipped us over and taken control, his movements sure and deep until we both collapsed in sweaty exhaustion.
"Sorry about that," I murmur, though I'm not sorry at all.
"I'm not complaining." His hand slides up from my stomach to brush against the underside of my breast, the touch gentle but intentional. "How are you feeling? Heat still bad?"
I take inventory. The fever has broken. My scent has mellowed from desperate to merely interested. My thoughts are clearer than they've been since this whole mess started.
"Better. Not good, but better."
"The Alpha pheromones helped stabilize you." He can probably smell the change, the way my biology has settled into temporary equilibrium.
"They did." I turn in his arms, studying his face in the morning light. "Thank you. For all of it."
Something shifts in his expression. "Don't thank me like I did you some kind of favor."
"Didn't you?"
"Reese." His voice drops, taking on that commanding edge that made me melt last night. "What happened between us wasn't charity."
"I know that." But do I? The heat makes everything complicated, blurs the lines between want and need, choice and compulsion.
"Do you?" He shifts closer, close enough that I can feel his breath against my lips. "Because right now, your heat is under control. Your suppressants kicked in enough to give you clarity. And I still want you just as much as I did last night."
The declaration hangs between us, loaded with implications I'm not sure I'm ready to handle. "Bo..."
"Tell me something," he says, fingers tracing the line of my jaw. "Before rowing. Before your family decided what you should become. What did you want?"
The question catches me off guard. Most people ask about goals, achievements, the future. Bo wants to know about dreams I gave up.
"That's random."
"Humor me."
I study his face, looking for the angle, the manipulation. But there's nothing except genuine curiosity and something that might be affection.
"Marine biology." The admission feels strange on my tongue. "I wanted to study sea turtles."
His face lights up like I've told him I wanted to cure cancer. "Sea turtles?"
"Migration patterns. Breeding habits. Conservation efforts." I shrug, suddenly self-conscious. "I had this whole plan to move to Costa Rica, live on the beach, save the world one turtle at a time."
"What happened?"
"Reality. My father explained that marine biology wasn't a 'practical career' for someone with my advantages. That I needed to think bigger. Business. Finance. Something that would leverage the family name."
Bo's thumb traces my lower lip. "How old were you?"
"Eight. But old enough to understand disappointment when I saw it in his eyes."
"His loss." The simple statement carries absolute conviction. "You would have been brilliant at it."
"How could you possibly know that?"
"Because you see patterns everywhere. Because you think three moves ahead. Because you care about things deeply, even when you pretend not to." His hand cups my face. "Same qualities that make you an incredible cox."
The assessment is too perceptive, too close to the bone. I deflect. "Your turn. What's your deepest, darkest secret?"
He considers this, and for a moment I think he'll deflect too. Then his expression grows serious.
"I almost lost my sister when she was six. She fell off the dock at our lake house while I was supposed to be watching her. Got distracted by some girl in a bikini instead of doing my job."
I can hear the old guilt in his voice, the self-recrimination that still cuts deep. "What happened?"
"She went under. I didn't notice for almost a minute." His jaw tightens. "Then five minutes of CPR, not knowing if she'd be okay, if I'd killed her with my stupidity. She was fine, but those minutes when I didn't know..."
"That's why you're so protective."
"My family calls it my savior complex, but when I care about someone, I want to make sure they're safe. Taken care of."
"And you care about me." I already know the answer.
"I care about you." His eyes hold mine. "More than I should after two weeks. More than is smart, considering the circumstances."
The honesty in his voice makes my chest tight. Dating a teammate would complicate everything. Dating an Alpha when I'm an Omega would make it worse. But looking at Bo now, feeling the way my body responds to his proximity, I find myself not caring about the complications.
"Show me," I say.
"Show you what?"
"That this isn't just about stabilizing my heat. That you want me when my biology isn't driving the train."
His pupils dilate, nostrils flaring as he scents my arousal. "You sure about that?" His hand continues its exploration from before, palm brushing across my nipple with deliberate lightness.
"I’m sure." I let my head fall back against the pillow, exposing my neck in a gesture of trust. "I trust you. Want you inside me."
He accepts the invitation, lips trailing up the column of my throat. The touch ignites little sparks of pleasure, my body already responding despite the night's exertions.
"I want that too," he breathes, his hand drifting down my torso. "To be inside you. To fill you. Make you come again and again. Claim you as mine."
I should feel afraid of that, of the implications. But with Bo's pheromones wrapping around me and his body hard and insistent against mine, all I can do is arch into him, inviting more.
"Is that a promise?"
"If that's what you want." He kisses his way down my collarbone, his tongue leaving a warm trail against my skin.
"Right now I just want you." I gasp as his hand slips between my legs, finding me slick and swollen and aching.
"Then have me," he murmurs, fingers dipping into my core. "I'm yours."
His touch is sure and gentle, drawing pleasure out of me like music from a cello. I lose myself in sensation, in the slow rhythm of his fingers and the warmth of his mouth.
When he finally rolls me onto my back and sinks into me, I'm so wet and ready for him that I have to fight back tears. He doesn't move at first, just looks down at me, eyes full of things he can't say. Then he begins to move, slow and deep, his gaze never leaving mine.
This isn't sex or fucking or a biological imperative.
It's something else, something I don't dare name, even as it spreads through me like a warm current.
I wrap my legs around him, taking him deeper.
Filling myself with him, his body, his scent.
His breath hitches as he thrusts again, burying himself to the hilt.
"Reese," he whispers, and there's such reverence in the way he says my name. Like I'm something precious.
"Kiss me," I tell him.
So he does.
It's a different kind of claiming, the kind that starts in the heart. The kind I should be terrified of, but can't bring myself to run from. His lips meet mine, his tongue stroking against mine, and the world melts away.
There's only Bo, the heat of his body and the warmth in his eyes. There's only the way he touches me, the way he holds me. The way his cock fills me and his hands explore my body. There's only this moment, and the words he doesn't say.