Of course, I said yes. Because I’d promised Mira months ago, and because Derek swore this was the last thing he’d ever ask of me.
But the point is, if anyone from the wedding party walked into this lounge right now, they’d see me leaning entirely too close to an alpha who is very muchnotthe groomsman I’m supposed to be here with.
But then again, he’s still holding my gaze with those eyes... looking as if he can read every single dirty thought crossing my mind. And I mean, that jaw...
I scan the room one more time. The coast is clear.
Fuck it. Tonight, I’m just an omega in a bar.
“Well,” I say, leaning forward a touch, my gaze dropping to his mouth. “Maybe, if you play nice.”
***
The keycard comes out of my clutch on the second try. The mahogany door swings open and Ash’s mouth is on mine.
His hand is in my hair, my back against the door, and the click of the lock shutting is the only sound that registers before the rest of the world falls away.
His hands find my waist, the small of my back, the zipper at the side of my dress. I get his top two buttons before I give up and just pull. A rapid-fire pop-pop-pop echoes off the walls as buttons scatter across the floor like hail, leaving the front of his shirt open.
“That was a good shirt,” he says.
“Send me the bill.” I shove it down his arms and off.
His mouth moves to my neck and I tilt into it. There’s this scent coming off his skin that wasn’t there at the bar. Warm. Deep. Every inch of him I touch seems to release more of it, and whatever’s underneath is making my body greedier than it should be. I press my face into the crook of his neck, inhale, and my fingers dig into his back hard enough that he groans.
“Easy,” he says, but he pushes himself closer to me.
My dress hits the floor before I know it. My heels are somewhere. His belt is a problem I’m solving with both hands, and he’s laughing against my throat while I wrestle with the buckle.
“Need help?”
“I am a capable, independent—” The buckle gives and I smirk, meeting his gaze head-on.
He walks me backward as a response. The back of my knees hit the bed and I fall. He follows me down, one knee on themattress, one hand braced beside my head. His shirt is gone and the light from the window is doing something frankly obscene to his shoulders.
“Keep going,” I breathe.
He dips his head and his mouth finds the spot below my ear, my collarbone, the space between. The scent-suppressing spray is fading further and the scent coming through is obliterating my senses. Whatever’s coming offmemust be doing something too, because his mouth goes hungrier against my throat, his teeth grazing, his breath ragged, his hands pulling me flush against him.
I rake my nails down his back and his whole body tightens against mine.
“Jesus,” he mutters into my collarbone.
There’s a sudden, heavy pressure in my chest, a gear shifting deep in my bones, unlocking something I thought was bolted shut.
Him.The thought is loud, vibrating through my blood.Alpha. Stay. Make it last.
I bite my lip, turning my head. On the nightstand, a glass box sits on the turndown tray, the lid slightly ajar, little truffles nestled in gold paper cups. A complimentary treat from the hotel...
They give my omega an idea.
“Hungry?” I say.
He pulls back, his eyes heavy-lidded and searching. “Only for what’s in front of me,” he murmurs.
“And for this answer, I think you deserve a little treat.” I reach over and scoop a handful of truffles. I dump them onto the mattress beside us, gold paper cups scattering. I pick one up and place it on my collarbone, right in the little dip between the bones.
He looks at it, looks at me, and his eyes go dark. He lowers his head and takes it with his mouth, slow, his lips warm against my skin. When he lifts back up, a flick of his tongue catches a smear of chocolate at the corner of his mouth.
