There was something primal in me that seemed to awaken as I watched the man’s eyes begin to fade. Something about it had called to me. To the very marrow of my bones. I hadn’t thought past calming him down. Which is evident considering the position I have found myself in. But why did something that shouldn’t be so good feel so right?
The way we fit together. The way he made pleasure sing through my veins. The way Sasha so effortlessly drew the most overpowering orgasm of my life from me. Even though I know I shouldn’t want this, I don’t know how I'll ever be able to go back to normal.
A knock sounds from the other side of the door, making both Sasha and me jump before moaning from the pleasure of the moment.
Fuck, we are still knotted with a whole period still left to go.
“Yoohoo,lover birds.I suggest you wrap it up in there. We need to finish the game and the officials are wondering where you are, Coach.”
The sound of Holden’s voice has an extra wave of reality barreling in.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I whisper, more to myself than anything as I try to scurry away from Sasha, which only leads to another spark of pleasure. Large hands stop me, gripping onto my hips that I know will have fingerprint bruises left on them.
“If you keep moving like that, we will be knotted until the end of the game. I don’t know about you, but I can’t defend shit with an Omega on the end of my knot.”
I snort, turning my head so I am able to at least see Sasha’s face. “I didn’t know you had a funny bone in that body of yours, Alpha.”
He smirks, the look so at odds on his face that for a moment, I think I have cracked him. Maybe I have managed to peel back that cranky exterior of his and catch a glimpse of the Alpha hiding beneath it. But that tiny spark of hope flaring to life in my chest is snuffed out just as quickly when he seems to remember himself. Like showing emotion is a weakness. Like Alphas such as Sasha Volkov aren’t allowed to smile for more than a second before retreating behind the walls they’ve built around themselves.
It pisses me off. Society expects Alphas to be these unshakable creatures, carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders without so much as flinching. To walk around with blank faces, swallowing every emotion that dares to surface, as thoughfeeling somehow makes them weak. As though they aren’t just as emotional as the rest of us.
“If you stay still, my knot will deflate and we can get back to work.”
The tone is sharp, serious and so unlike the Alpha that had joked with me moments prior.
Just like that, the walls are back up.
The smile I’d managed to coax out of him disappears behind the same guarded expression he’d worn from the moment I first walked into that locker room. I give him a short nod, not knowing exactly how to respond to his words. I feel out of sorts in more ways than one. Omegas may get a bad reputation for being “confusing”, but we have nothing on Alphas. Case in point, Sasha and whatever this is.
Several long minutes pass while we both focus on nothing but breathing. The silence stretches between us, awkward and heavy, until eventually, his knot softens enough for us to separate. I grimace as a rush of our combined release seeps from my core, drenching my inner thighs. I grab a few handfuls of tissues, trying my best to clean up the evidence of our shared lapse in judgment. Neither of us says anything to each other, letting the awkward air in the room fill the space between us as we rush to get dressed.
I smooth down my shirt. Then do it again, adjusting my blazer. Anything to avoid eye contact. Another knock sounds at the door, earning a low growl from Sasha.
“We are fucking coming!”
“You certainly were,” Holden replies, and my cheeks burn with humiliation. Fuck.
I am so fucking stupid. Not only did I allow God only knows how many people outside this office to hear our unprofessionalism during the game, but I also breached my contract.
I’ve been here a little over a month, and that’s all it took for me to succumb to an Alpha. But not just any Alpha. The captain of the NHL team I am inheriting! Tripping and falling on his fucking knot as if I was made to do nothing else.
I hate myself.
I hate that years of discipline and carefully built resolve disappeared the second my instincts decided they wanted something different.
Once my clothes have been fixed, I give one last look at Sasha, finding him already looking at me. There is a strange, unreadable expression plastered across his face.
Not the anger, I’ve come to learn, is part of what makes him tick.
Not satisfaction or signs of an afterglow after what we just did.
Something far more dangerous.
I’m sure I would dissect it a little more if I had any fucks to give. Self-preservation is a thing, and right now, I’ve got to get my game face on and salvage what little of my dignity and professionalism I have left.
I need to focus on myself. To get through this season and secure my spot as the majority owner. To fulfill the big shoes my father left for me. To prove to every single person who questioned my appointment that I belong here. To prove Dad hadn’t built his legacy only for me to tear it apart before I ever had the chance to show I’m worthy. Not get caught up in Alphas whose glares have me feeling things that are dangerous.
“Whatever happened between us, forget about it. It never happened.”
