Page 10 of Rebound My Alpha
We don't move. I'm breathing in shudders. His face is against my back, his arm around me. The hallway smells like both of us. My omega is purring about it in a low, satisfied way that makes me want to put my fist through drywall.
Then Knox presses his lips to the base of my spine.
Just a quiet, warm, careful kiss. Like I'm something worth being gentle with.
My whole body leans into it before I can stop myself.
That's what breaks me. Not the orgasm, not the rimming, not the filthy things he said. The kiss. The anger was holding me together, and this is something else entirely. I'm not built for it.
I pull away sharply, yank my jeans up, and turn around. Knox is still on his knees, looking up at me. His face is entirely open. The smirk is gone. The cockiness is gone. It's just raw and wanting. If I look at him for one more second, I'm going to ask him to stay, and asking people to stay is the one thing I promised myself I'd never do again.
"Get out," I say. It comes out thin and shaky. It sounds nothing like the first time I said it tonight. Something shifts behind his eyes; he hears the difference.
Knox stands up slowly. He doesn't argue. He fixes his jeans and walks to the door. He's not dragging it out, but he's leaving room. He opens the door and looks back at me over his shoulder.
"I'm not done," he says. The worst part is, he means it.
The door closes behind him with a quiet click. No slam. The sound of it is worse than if he'd banged it off the hinges.
I stand in the hallway and breathe. My phone is on the kitchen counter. I pick it up, my thumb hovering over Grandma Ruth's name. She'd know what to do. But she'd ask the one question I can't answer yet, and I'm not ready to be that honest with someone who actually loves me. I put the phone down.
"Benji."
I turn around. Shay is leaning against his bedroom doorframe, arms crossed, looking halfway between horrified and completely unsurprised. He's been here the whole time.
His eyes move over me. The flush, the swollen mouth, the jeans that definitely aren't the ones I was wearing an hour ago, the way I'm gripping the counter for structural support.
"What the hell was that?"
"Don't."
"That was him. The steps alpha. Knox."
"Shay, don't—"
"You're on your third pair of jeans tonight, Benji." His voice is flat, but almost impressed. "I'm not a math person, but even I can do that equation."
"There's no equation."
"There is absolutely an equation, and the answer is that you fucked him. Or he fucked you. Or some combination that I don't need details on but am clearly getting anyway because my room shares a wall with this hallway."
I press my hands flat on the counter and stare at the ceiling. My body is still humming, oversensitive. I can still feel Knox's mouth on me, his arm around my waist, his lips on my spine. I'm out of performances. Every version of "I don't care" I own is used up. Knox took them apart piece by piece, and now I'm standing in my kitchen with nothing left between me and the truth.
"He's my mate." The words fall out of me.
My omega hums in my chest, a satisfied vibration I want to claw out. Nothing about this should feel right.
Shay stares at me. His eyes go wide. He sets his jaw, deciding how to handle this.
"You are so fucked," he says.
I laugh. It sounds awful and hollow, one wrong breath from a breakdown, but it's real. Shay's mouth twitches at the corner. We stand in my kitchen, breathing in the smell of Knox and sexand something permanent. He's right. I am so fucked. At least someone finally said it.
I lean against the counter and cross my arms. The laugh dies.
"I'm not forgiving him," I say, my voice steadier now. I press my tongue against the back of my teeth. "I'm not done being angry. He doesn't get absolution just because biology says so."
I swallow hard.
