Chapter 3
Luna
I wake up with my face buried in an alpha’s neck.
My nose draws a slow line up his throat, drinking in a vague, delicious smell while my cheek rubs against his jaw in the same deliberate rhythm. And—oh god, it’s a full-body effort. My hips are moving too, grinding against him in a slow, shameless roll.
I am comprehensively scent-marking and grinding an alpha I just met, and every cell in my body is having the time of its life.
The rational part of my brain screams stop. My omega, who is currently driving the ship, floors the accelerator. The collision of these two forces produces a jerk so violent I nearly launch myself clean off the mattress.
“Oh my god.” I’m upright, clutching the duvet to my chest. “Oh my god.”
Ash stirs, opening one hazel eye, then the other, the corner of his mouth lifting. He looks at me sheet-clutching, with mascara probably halfway to my chin, entirely too relaxed.
“Morning,” he says, his voice wrecked.
“I—I was rubbing myself on you.” I press a hand over my face.
“That explains the beautiful dream I was having,” he says, stretching one arm above his head, slow and loose.
“But I didn’t—that wasn’t—I am so sorry. That is a deeply inappropriate thing to do to someone without—”
“Luna.” He props himself up on one elbow, his pecs catching the morning light. “The way I see it, you were just picking up where we left off last night.”
I go still.
Last night.
The memories come in flashes: his mouth on my hip, my fingers tangled in his hair, the room whiting out. And then... blank. Nothing.
My face goes nuclear, because I realize this man spent a considerable amount of time tending to my needs, and in return, I just... passed out?
“Oh my god,” I mumble. “I was absolutely going to reciprocate. I have no idea what happened. I swear this has never—”
“I guess I just missed my calling as some kind of erotic sandman,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips.
My cheeks burn even hotter as I stare at him in sheer mortification. He’s smiling, warm and completely unbothered, which somehow makes me want to sink through the mattress. I want to pull the duvet over my head and stay there until next Saturday.
“I’m just teasing,” he says, his eyes dancing.
“Honestly, I passed out not long after you did. Genuinely. One second I was—” He gestures vaguely toward my thighs, which does nothing to make me less self-conscious.
“—and the next, I was out cold. So if nothing else, I’m glad you got off on me before the lights went out. ”
I try to gather my thoughts, but my brain is operating at a sluggish two-thirds capacity.
Because the more awake I get, the more his scent floods my senses.
It’s everywhere now, a tantalizing haze I can’t quite grasp or fully pin down.
The scent-suppressing spray has clearly started to dissolve overnight, and every time I breathe him in, my train of thought derails
“Hold on,” I manage, using every ounce of my willpower to force my brain to operate. “We just both fell asleep? I mean, sure, we had a few drinks, but—”
Then my eyes drop to the floor.
Crumpled, shiny wrappers scattered across the carpet like a trail of gold breadcrumbs. My eyes follow them up to the nightstand. The chocolate box. One truffle left in its paper cup. The lid is propped against the lamp, the inside printed with cheerful cursive.
I pick it up.
Goodnight Wellness Truffles. 60% cacao infused with CBD, valerian root & melatonin. Eat, brush your teeth, then sleep like a baby! Part of our complimentary Care Package.
I read it twice.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”
“What?” Ash leans over, looking at the card. “... Luna. Did you use sedatives as foreplay?”
“I—” My voice climbs. “I’m so sorry! This is the most mortifying—”
“Just kidding.” His laugh is a low rumble. He leans closer, the amusement slipping from his eyes, replaced by that dark, heavy gaze from last night. Close enough that his scent brushes my face. “You really do wind up easy, huh?”
My chest tightens, lips parting. His eyes drop to my mouth. He is right there, and gravity is pulling toward him, and—
BANG BANG BANG.
“Luna!”
I flinch.
BANG BANG BANG.
“Luna, you up? Rehearsal lunch starts in two hours and we’re supposed to arrive before the guests!”
Derek.
The blood drains from my face. I look at Ash. He’s frowning, looking at the door, then back at me.
“Who’s that?” he asks, his voice dropping.
“You have to go,” I say, scanning the floor. “I’m so sorry, you have to go right now.”
“Luna—”
“Please.” I grab his crumpled (and destroyed) white shirt, shoving it into his chest. He scrambles up, pulling his pants up as I herd him toward the French doors at the back of the room.
“Through there,” I hiss, unlocking the latch. “The garden leads out to the lawn. Go, go, go.”
His jaw is open, eyebrows shot up as he buttons his fly on the move.
“Wait, is the guy at the door your boyfriend?” He stops, looking down at me, his face tight.
“He’s not. It’s... it’s a long story. He’s not my boyfriend. I promise.”
BANG BANG BANG.
“Luna, I know you’re in there!” Derek’s voice is louder, sharper. The handle rattles.
“Please,” I whisper, pressing my hands together. “Can you please just go? I wish I could explain, but—”
“Okay,” Ash says, holding up his hands, his expression softening. “Okay, fine.”
He slips into his shirt, the missing buttons leaving his chest half-exposed. Then, he stops at the garden door, hand on the latch, and turns back.
“For what it’s worth,” he says, “it was an honor to meet you, Luna.”
The way he says my name does something to my chest that I don’t have time to analyze.
“It was... yes, it was really nice to meet you too. I’m sorry about—”
BANG BANG BANG.
“Luna, I swear to God—” Derek shouts.
“—about all of this,” I finish.
“Go,” Ash says, gesturing toward the hallway. He steps out onto the stone patio, turning back. “Actually, can I get your—”
SLAM!
Oh crap, I didn’t mean to close the door. I thought he was done talking.
Through the glass pane, Ash stares at me for a beat before letting out a brief shrug, his lips flattening into an amused, resigned pout.
Damn, was he about to ask for my number? I do want to see him again and—
BANG BANG BANG.
“LUNA!”
Fuck, I don’t have time. I don’t have time.
I yank the curtains shut over the glass pane and scramble into the bathroom to snatch a robe. Tying the belt on a dead sprint back across the room, I crack the front door open.
“Hi. I overslept. My phone died and—”
Derek pushes past me.
“Whoa.” I plant a flat palm hard against his sternum before he can take another step. “Derek, you can’t just—”
“Why did it take you so long to open?” He asks, head pivoting, auditing the room. His eyes sweep the bed, the twisted sheets, the gold wrappers on the carpet, my discarded dress.
“Because I was asleep,” I say, my voice rising. “My phone is dead so my alarm didn’t ring and I ate—.”
“Is someone in here?” He looks toward the bathroom.
“No.”
“You sure about that?” He tries to skirt around me, but I sidestep directly into his path, slapping my hands back onto his sternum.
“Derek, stop,” I say. “No one is in here. And even if they were, we split up. We are not together.”
He looks back at me, his nostrils flaring, his eyes narrowing. For a long beat, he just holds my gaze.
“You look like a mess,” he finally says, his voice flat. “Come on, clean yourself up. Mira’s mother is already asking why we’re not at the venue. I’ll wait in the lobby.”