Chapter 19
COREY
“Claire. It’s been twenty minutes since the water stopped.”
Silence behind the bathroom door, yet her scent is pouring through the gaps, thick and sweet, soaked in arousal so concentrated it’s wrapping around my cock and squeezing.
I’m braced against the hallway wall, one hand gripping the frame, the other adjusting myself through my pants because the situation behind my zipper has gone from uncomfortable to genuinely painful, and she’s not even in the room.
“I’m okay,” she calls. “Just living my best bathroom life.”
“Want me to come in there? I’m a man of many skills, and whatever you’re dealing with, I guarantee I’ll make it better.”
“That’s exactly why the door’s locked.” She laughs softly, which is progress.
I grin and drop my head against the wall. My pulse is hammering in my throat, and every inhale fills my lungs with her. I’ve been around Omegas before, experienced attraction, chemistry. This is a different beast entirely. This is a scent match in overdrive.
“I’m thinking I might just spend the night here, actually,” she adds. “The floor tiles are very comfortable.”
“That’s not happening,” I answer. “I’m standing out here inhaling your scent, which is so incredible that I’m close to losing my mind.
Let me put this clearly: You can stay in there and we’ll both suffer.
Or you join me and we’ll sit by the fire, drink hot chocolate, and just chill.
Your call. But I’m not leaving you there all night. ”
Silence, a long one. “Give me a minute.”
I push off the wall and head to the kitchen. Every step away from that door is a fight as my body screams to turn the fuck around, break the lock, follow the scent to its source, and take what’s mine. The primal, feral part of my brain that I keep caged is rattling the bars.
Instead, I make her a fresh hot chocolate.
The one I’d made earlier is cold, so I drink it while standing at the counter, then start again.
Milk. Cocoa. Sugar. In no time, I set the mug on the side table near a plate of chocolate pieces next to the empty couch.
I dim the lights slightly and crash down on the other couch, facing the flames.
The cabin is quiet. Outside, the sky has darkened into a deep purple, the trees silhouetting against the last band of amber on the horizon. The fire crackles and pops. It’s beautiful, and yet I’m in here buzzing at a frequency that could shatter glass.
The bathroom door clicks open.
I don’t turn to freak her out with how damn excited I am that she’s emerged.
Soft footsteps approach from the hallway.
She rounds the couch and sinks into the opposite one, pulling her legs beneath her, tugging the lodge bathrobe tight around her body.
Her hair is damp, combed back from her face, and the firelight dances across bare skin.
She’s not wearing makeup, just her glasses, cheeks pink, lips full and bare, lashes dark against her skin.
She’s glowing in a way that has nothing to do with the fire and everything to do with whatever her body is experiencing.
The sight of her curled on that couch in nothing but a bathrobe hits me so hard I have to grip the back of the couch.
“Thanks for the hot chocolate,” she murmurs, reaching for the mug. She sips and her eyes close momentarily. “Oh my God, that’s so delicious.”
“Secret’s the cocoa ratio.”
She takes a chocolate from the plate and pops it into her mouth. Her lips close around it, then her tongue traces her lower lip to catch what’s left, and my cock twitches. I shift my weight and think about ice, glaciers, arctic conditions, anything that isn’t the way her tongue just moved.
“There’s more when you need it,” I offer as she watches me over the rim of her mug, the firelight flickering across her face.
“How are you so calm right now?” she asks.
“I’m a very chill person,” I admit, which is complete bullshit. I’m so high-strung right now. One wrong move, and I’ll strain my cock because of how hard it is.
She almost smiles.
“How are you really feeling?” I ask.
“Awkward, confused by my body, trying to manage all this crazy stuff that refuses to listen to me. You know. The normal stuff.” She laughs, the tension in her shoulders softening.
“Sounds to me,” I say, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, “that you’re fighting what your body’s telling you.”
Her eyes narrow.
“And I’m right here, sunshine.” I spread my hands, letting my grin do some of the heavy lifting because if I say this too seriously, I might scare her.
“Use my body. Climb me, bite me, call me Daddy, make me shut up, which is asking a lot but I’m willing to suffer.
You need a warm, Alpha-shaped stress ball? Great. I volunteer as tribute.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I’m not joking.” My tone dips, the smile still there.
“Well, I am a little, because that’s me, but I truly mean it.
No judgment or pressure. You want to curl up against me and breathe?
I’m yours. You want to use me until your body stops trying to set itself on fire?
Also yours. Just tell me what you want.”
Her breath catches, and she’s gnawing on the corner of her lower lip, staring at me a lot hungrier than she was seconds earlier.
“You don’t have to be polite with me or make it pretty. I can take it.”
She tilts her head, and the smirk that surfaces is lethal. “Right. Because you’d just be doing me a favor.”
“In truth, you’d be helping me out too.” I hold her gaze because pretending this is one-sided would be a damn lie.
“Scent matches in close proximity for extended periods can trigger the intensity, and the way your body stops negotiating with your brain. I’ve never experienced this before.
” My voice roughens despite my best effort to keep it steady.
“But fuck me, Claire, whatever this is, it’s all-consuming. ”
“You’re telling me.” She takes a sip of her hot chocolate, but her hand isn’t as steady as it was a minute ago.
“It’s never been instant for me. I’ve had slow buildups of my heat.
Gradual cycles. Even living with Louis, I never reacted this way.
” Her eyes flick to mine, dark and embarrassed and hungry all at once.
“This is different, as if my body now runs the show.”
“That’s exactly me too,” I say a bit too enthusiastically.
The air between us thickens. Neither of us moves, but I’m already imagining a dozen ways to close the space. Her across my lap. Her hands in my hair. Her mouth losing that careful little edge because I’ve finally filled it with my cock.
She’s staring at me too intently, probably searching for proof that I’m as ruined as she is, and I’m close to giving it to her.
Close to standing, dropping my pants, and letting her see exactly what she’s done to me.
But that feels less romantic and more desperate, and I’m trying hard to stay on the right side of that line.
“Maybe saying it out loud will help,” I offer. “Whatever’s in your head. Get it out.”
She laughs, but it’s breathless now. “I highly doubt that.”
“Try me.”
She holds my gaze and shakes her head.
I shrug. “Fine, I’ll go first. I’m thinking about pulling that robe open with my teeth.
Pushing you up against that kitchen counter and lifting you onto it.
Spreading your thighs, kneeling between them, and tasting you until you call me your god.
Then I wouldn’t stop until you’re shaking and begging me to. ”
She hasn’t moved and the silence stretches. Her chest rises and falls quickly while her fingers are white around the mug. Her lips are parted as if she’s struggling to hold back. I fucking love this look on her.
“Oh God. I definitely need another cold shower.”
I swear every muscle in my body locks. “I can start one for you, but I will be joining you.” I smirk, leaning back against the couch. “Or I can stay right here and be incredibly noble while you suffer.”
“That’s your noble face?”
“You like it?”
She suddenly stands, sets the mug down, and heads toward the kitchen.
My gaze follows her, locked on every movement.
The bathrobe shifts as she moves, the belt loosening, the hem swinging against her thighs.
A flash of bare thigh. The curve of her shoulder where the fabric has slipped.
She’s a flame in a robe, and I’m about to catch alight.
I’m on my feet in seconds, following as though she’s put a spell on me.
She’s at the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water, and she turns to find me two feet behind her.
“Oh.” Her eyes widen. “You’re here.”
“Figured we could both use cooling down.”
We stare at each other. The kitchen is dark except for the glow of the fire spilling through the open plan, and the shadows carve her face into angles of gold and black.
She’s breathing fast. Her robe is parted at the collar, revealing the line of her throat, the dip of her collarbone, the beginning of a curve of her breasts I can’t see but can imagine with perfect, tormenting clarity.
She opens the bottle and drinks. Fast, desperate, her throat working with every swallow, water spilling from the corner of her mouth and trailing down her chin.
It slips onto her chest, disappearing between her collarbones into the shadow of the robe, and my whole body goes tight watching it go somewhere my mouth wants to follow.
I swallow so hard my throat clicks.
She lowers the bottle, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and holds it out. “Want some?”
I take it and drink the rest without breaking eye contact. The cold is a slap to my system because the heat between us is tectonic.
She nudges past me and it’s not an accident.
Her breast brushes my arm through the robe, deliberate enough to send a current straight through my cock.
She keeps walking as if she hasn’t just put me one breath away from losing my mind, drifting toward the living room with the robe shifting around her thighs.
She knows exactly what she’s doing, and if she doesn’t, that might be worse.