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“Bailey,” Ken says, stepping toward me, but I back up until my legs hit the side of the couch and I fall onto it, feeling slightly relieved.
“This is impossible,” I say, fanning myself in an attempt to abate the heat.Fucking California weather.“I’m a beta, Kenneth. This doesn’t make sense.”
“I know it’s a lot to take in,” he says, moving to sit beside me.
I’m instantly relieved by his closeness, but it’s not close enough. I want to drag him over top of me so he can smother me into the couch with kisses.So he can fuck me into the cushions until I’m screaming his name loud enough for the neighbors to hear.
“I’m just as surprised as you are,” he says. “Do you think I expected to fly across the country, only to find my mate?”
Mate.
The word slams into me, and my breath stutters, but even as I open my mouth to deny it, the words die in my throat. As unlikely and completely absurd as this whole situation is, I want Ken.
I need him.
It’s a feeling so deep down in my bones, it’s hard to distinguish from logic. It’s completely crazy, but it also makes perfect sense at the same time.
Fuck.My head is swimming. I need a drink.
Ken leans closer, citrus kicking up and swallowing me, and my eyelids droop. His breath hits my skin, making it zing, before he pauses a hairsbreadth away from my lips.
“You’re mine, Bailey,” he growls, the power of it rattling down into my bones. A shiver skitters across my back, landing between my thighs as my pussy throbs, and the worrisome thoughts plaguing my mind give way to lust.
Pure, hot, unbridled lust.
“I’m yours, Ken,” I pant, sounding more desperate than should be legal.
The growl in his chest picks up, growing louder as he leans forward and presses his lips to mine.
seven
BAILEY
I’m fucking hot.
Burning up, sweat beading in my hairline, as Ken’s hand comes up behind my neck and pulls me into his kiss. Heat burns through my veins like molten lava, and my abdomen cramps with a deliciously uncomfortable throb.
I whimper helplessly as Ken’s lips lead mine in a passionate, slow dance, and my heart flits frantically behind my ribs as more panic sets in.
There’s no way I’m going into fucking heat right now.
Ijustperfumed. My first heat shouldn’t hit for a few months, a few weeks at minimum.
This isn’t normal.
It’s not natural.
But neither is perfuming seven years late.
“Ken,” I whine between kisses, unable to control the torrent of heat and need blistering through me. He mutters a reply, but I don’t hear what he says. I’m too distracted by everything happening in my body to comprehend words right now.
Even with all my schooling, the beta institutes never teach us much about the intricacies of omega heats. Why would we need to know? I’ve picked up tidbits of information over the years, pieced together what I think takes place, but nothing has prepared me for what it’s actually like.
I don’t know what to expect or what to do, but I know I can’t spend my heat here on the couch. My slick has probably already soaked into the material, but even if I wasn’t worried about the expensive, imported fabric, it’s not what I need.
I need blankets. Pillows.I need my bed.
“What is it, baby?” he murmurs, and I can’t deny the flutters the nickname causes to explode in my middle. Unfortunately, the butterflies are quickly replaced by another cramp that draws a pitiful moan from my lips. “Tell me what you need. I’ll get it for you.”
