Chapter 10 #2
“I can’t tell you,” I say after setting down the lighter weights and grabbing the heavier set. “I promised her I would keep it a secret.”
Ashton raises an eyebrow, his shoulders dropping in surprise.
“You promised her secrecy? I…” He grunts, one of those sounds that conveys frustration and disbelief, like when some asshat gets a rebound on him and it gets into the net.
“You sure she doesn’t just want your money?
This whole thing has red flags all over it, man. ”
I glare at him. “She’s my scent match, Ashton. I’m sure.”
It takes Ashton a minute to absorb that, but then his eyes go wide and his mouth drops open. I’d laugh if I wasn’t shitting myself over admitting I’ve found a scent match.
“You found a scent match? And she’s a virgin?”
I start the next exercise. Ashton leans against the rack of kettlebells, still calibrating around my confession.
My thoughts drift to the reservation I made for tonight, the careful planning of dinner and getting there and back without—hopefully—garnering attention from unwanted cameras.
I swallow down the sudden excited nerves crowding my throat.
“Yes,” I mutter, “and I have a very secret date with her tonight at one of the vineyards just outside of the city.”
I pause, trying to gauge his reaction. He still seems stunned more than anything. He gapes at me like I’ve just jacked off in front of him or something equally absurd. When he doesn’t say anything more, I just let my worry fall out of me in a rushed whisper.
“We have a date, and I’m picking her up in less than six hours, and now I’m panicking because I don’t know what the hell to do with a virgin to make sure she doesn’t hate the entire experience.
” I groan. “I mean, yes, I do. Physically, I mean. I know to take it slow and check in and get her comfortable and to not try knotting her the same night we fuck the first time because I know that just makes the aftercare more painful for her. But, like, emotionally and shit? I’m flying blind here. ”
I know as much about emotional aftercare as I do soccer. Which is a vague idea of how to keep the ball inside the field… and not much else.
“Wow,” he says. “Damn, man.”
I am so fucked.
Damn it, I’m going to hurt her. She’s going to end up devastated and crying and I won’t know how to fix it. My scent surges again, embittered now with my rising worry.
Ashton seems to shake himself out of a thought and crosses his arms. My scent only intensifies as more awful scenarios fill my mind.
He blows out a breath, then glances around the room.
No one’s anywhere near us, but a few of them will be benching soon.
He pushes off the weight rack and closes the distance between us, casually holding his hand out like he’s spotting my bicep curls.
We both know it’s just an excuse so he doesn’t have to do more than whisper.
I’m nowhere near my maximum weight for these.
“If she’s old enough to drink and hasn’t been with anyone, I’d guess she’s the type of person who wants it to be a big thing?”
I nod. That feels right. “She said she isn’t built for casual flings.”
Ashton purses his lips. “All right. So it could be that. Or… she had a bad experience that’s making her hesitate to try again. I’d try to feel out which one it is tonight and then wait until your next date to do anything.”
Fuck, it hadn’t occurred to me she might have had a shitty experience before. Was that why she was so certain she’s not built for flings? Had some jackass tried to get in her pants and hurt her?
The growl rips up my throat before I can hold it back.
Ashton nods, not surprised by the reaction.
“Right,” he says, totally calm. “If she’s just always wanted it to be with someone special—right time, right guy and all that—then plan a day when we’re home for a decent stretch and won’t have morning skate. Not right before we leave for two road games.”
His gaze turns sharp.
Yeah, that’s fair. There’s a six game stretch that’s all at home over Thanksgiving. Maybe that’ll work? Shit, that’s only in another week. I offer a nod to get him to continue.
“If she’s had an asshole mess up her first time, then you need to tread real careful, Rhett. Real damn careful. Every move is going to have to be thought out. No way you’ll be able to just see what happens one night.”
I force a swallow, trying to alleviate all those worries rising again.
Ashton might hate Omegas now, but there was a time when he’d been serious with one.
I can’t even remember the last time I was with one.
It’s not like they’re overly common or anything.
It’s so much easier to fuck an interested Beta than hunt for an Omega.
Maybe it was last season? Vancouver, I think.
I’d been out partying with Kane, and they all flock to him like a moth to a flame.
“Yeah, all right,” I choke out. “Thanks man.”
He grimaces then pulls a kettlebell from the rack. “Don’t thank me, man. Omegas are a fucking mess waiting to happen. Better you than me.”