Skyla’s sweet peony scent has had me spun all fucking day.
But Tadeo’s clearly going through some shit.
“And then,” Tadeo takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to brace himself, “when I saw her face. That bruise on her cheek and the state of her knees.” He grits his teeth. “Someone fucking hurt her.”
The air gets thick, and my chest feels tight. For once, I don’t have a joke to throw in. Instead, I press my palm flat against his chest, right over his racing heart, until he finally looks at me again. His eyes are dark, wrecked, full of guilt that cuts me wide open.
“It’s not your fault,” I say quietly. “You’re not the one who hurt her.”
“It’s more than that.” He huffs, frustrated that I’m not getting it. “I—” He cuts himself off. “Never mind.” He turns, like he’s about to shut me out. But I don’t let him.
I catch his arm, firm but not harsh. “Don’t do that.”
He snarls low, the sound sharp, glaring at my hand. It jolts me because this isn’t like him. Not usually. Tadeo’s the controlled one, the perfectionist. The guy who can sit through a storm and not flinch. Seeing him fray like this makes me uncomfortable.
“You need to fucking talk to someone,” I say firmly. “I can go get Knox. He can?—”
“Don’t,” Tadeo says quickly. “Knox has enough going on. He doesn’t need to deal with me.”
“Then tell me what’s got you so wound up,” I push back. “What’s your fucking problem?”
For a moment, Tadeo doesn’t answer. His eyes dart from me to the door, like he’s weighing his options.
“Whatever’s going on, no one will judge you,” I finally say, and Tadeo‘s fists curl tight.
“I’djudge me if I were you,” he finally snaps. But before I can ask why, words rip out of him like they’ve been festering too long. “Because even with all the bruises on Skyla’s body and the fucking drugs in her system, all I wanted last night was to track her down, rip Knox off of her, and fuck her senseless against a goddamn tree.” His voice is rough, angry, like he hates every syllable. “I don’t know how you could stand it, laying there on the river last night, but I heard every fucking thing Knox did to her.Everything." His eyes widen with desperation. “Every moan. Every gasp. Every slap of skin on skin.” He rakes his nails through his perfectly styled hair. “It was fucking torture for so many goddamn reasons." His brows pull together, his eyes flooding with pure pain. “I mean, who looks at a battered woman and gets hard?”
Heat floods my neck, and I shift uncomfortably, not because I’m disgusted—but because I get it. Too well. But I breathe through Tadeo’s confession, trying to look steady as bedrock. “Your instincts are natural.”
“The worst part is, I can still feel it.” He slams a fist to his chest as his dark gaze snaps to the hallway. “It took everything in me not to launch myself at her in the car. And even now…” His teeth clench.
“Any healthy young alpha would’ve felt the same,” I say. “What matters is that you didn’t.”
But Tadeo doesn’t look convinced. His chest heaves rapidly, and his gaze skitters anywhere but me.
That’s when I notice the thick bulge straining against his pants. His control is fraying. He’s only twenty-eight. That’s very young for an alpha to control such intense instincts on his own. And while Tadeo prides himself on being more disciplined than the rest, at the end of the day, he’s still a hot-blooded alpha, struggling under the pull of the fresh, unclaimed omega now living in our home.
“Tad,” I say his name firmly, pleased when his eyes meet mine. “Do you need to get off?”
“No.” The word snaps out of the young alpha too fast and sharp, like he’s trying to convince himself more than me. But his body gives him away. He’s trembling with tension he simply can’t cage.
Reaching out, I press my palm hard against his cock, and his whole frame vibrates like I’ve shocked him. Eyes shut, breath ragged.
Yeah. He needs this, before he snaps.
“You need to be fucked, Tadeo.” My voice drops, low and rough, more command than question, as I squeeze his cock through the fabric. “You need to get off.” I close the space between us, and, thankfully he doesn't back up. Moving slowly, I brush my lips over his, my breath hot against his mouth. He shudders as I whisper, “Do you want my cock in that tight ass?”
“Yes.” His shoulders fall like simply admitting it gives him relief. “Please, Alex." His fingers dig into my waist, holding on like he’ll break without it.
Reaching behind me, I shut the bedroom door with a firm click, then tug the young alpha toward the walk-in closet. It’s barely big enough for the two of us, but I don’t want anyone else to overhear. “In here.” My voice is steady, even though my pulse is already climbing. “We have to be quiet. Can you do that?”
Tadeo’s nod is too quick, his breath sharp, ragged. Then his eyes drop to my mouth, and before I can say another word, he’s on me. His lips crash into mine—desperate, bruising—teeth catching hard enough on my bottom lip to make me groan.
And fuck, I feel it straight down my spine.
Tadeo fists my shirt and tears it straight off my body, shredding the fabric like it insulted him. Then his hands are all over me, wild and greedy. Fisting my hair, yanking at my hips, dragging his nails down my back like he’s trying to brand me.
And I fuckingloveit.
