Page 298 of Alpha Mates

“End it?” Beckett hazards. I nod, and he frowns. “Can’t you just say something?”

And with that, I learnneverto ask Beckett for sex advice again.

“Of course not!” Emitt butts in before I can say as much. “He can’t when he’s the one who put the ban on.”

“Exactly!” I say, pointing at him. I eye him with renewed interest.

Emitt blinks at me before whispering, “You’ll have to seduce him.”

Beckett and I both choke on our lemonade.

“Seduce him?!” I wheeze, trying to clear my throat.

“He has to come on to you,” Emitt explains earnestly, “and you can’t make that happen without amping up the sex appeal.”

New discovery. Emitt Smith is incapable of feeling embarrassment.

“I don’t know.” I glance at Beckett, but he looks just as uncomfortable. “I don’t have any ‘sex appeal’ to amp up.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re like sex on legs,” Emitt declares so loudly that I have to bury my face in my hands. Beckett clears his throat.

“What?” he says. “It’s true. This’ll be easy.”

“So, how do you—”Dear Goddess, why didn’t I just stay home?“How would I do … that?”

“We’ve got options here,” Emitt replies without missing a beat. He holds up a finger, eyes utterly serious. “My first suggestion is lingerie.”

“What?!” I shriek, eyes almost popping out of their sockets.

“Here we go,” Beckett mutters under his breath.

“Hear me out,” Emitt says defensively. “I’ve known Aiden most of my life, meaning I was there for the horny bastard’s puberty years. We shared stuff like fantasies and mags and—”

“Dear Goddess,” I whisper.

“The guy has a thing for lingerie,” Emitt continues shamelessly. “Like, more than most guys.”

“I assume that was forwomenin lingerie. In case it’s not exceedingly obvious, Emitt, I amnota woman!” I whisper-shout.

“No shit,” he snorts. “It won’t matter. Male or female—you’re his mate. He’ll love it, trust me.”

I stare at him, mouth agape.

“You don’t have to get the bra,” he adds quickly, as if that helps. “Just knee-high stockings and matching panties, and you’re set. Bonus points if they’re black and got lace.”

“That was oddly specific,” Beckett mutters.

“It was his favourite kind,” Emitt dismisses before refocusing on me. “Sound good?”

“No, Emitt. No, it does not sound good,” I hiss, trying to wash lacy images of myself from my mind. “I can’t do that. I’m a man. I may be the one—” I stop myself as I shake my head. “I just can’t do that.”

“I’ve done it,” he says, and my head snaps up.

Emitt blinks back at me while Beckett stares at him in complete horror.

“I was the one who asked to do it after I saw my friend Mickey in them, but once Beckett saw those pink panties—wowie.” He shakes his head. “Let me tell you. This guy? He—”

“That’s enough!” Beckett says, covering Emitt’s polluted mouth before he can say another word. “Let’s keep that part between us, okay, donut?”