Page 300 of Alpha Mates

I head for the bathroom, and don’t dawdle in there. I shower fast, using his soap instead of mine—lathering it into every part of me until I reek of Aiden, until I feel like I’ve crawled out of his skin. I towel off. Then, naked and determined, I throw shame out the window like my name is Emitt Smith and dig into our laundry bin.

For the sex. For the sex. For the sex.

I pull out a few of his shirts and rub them all over my skin, lingering on my scent glands. It’s probably the most humiliating thing I’ve ever done—and that’s saying something, considering what initiated this whole sex ban in the first place. Once I’m fully drenched in his scent, I throw on some boxers and a pair of his loose shorts.

Dressed, ready, and scented, I leave in search of the man himself.

“Need any help?” I ask as I round the corner into the kitchen.

Aiden’s mid-turn, reaching for the stove dials, so he barely glances my way. “Yeah, just grab some—” His head snaps back. This time, he really looks.

Most evenings after a shower, I walk around the house in a shirt and underwear because, well, I know my mate, and seeing my ass was a tease that usually got him into bed easily. But I tried that yesterday, and it didn’t work. So today, I’m flaunting another part of my body.

Being the one who usually walked around shirtless, Aiden’s gaze lags on my chest, heavy as a touch, before it drifts lower, trailing down to the definedV just above my low-slung waistband. I fight the urge to shiver and stay perfectly still until his eyes finally snap away, landing firmly on anything but me.

“Grab some plates,” he manages after clearing his throat. “Just get some plates and a bowl for the salad.”

“Okay,” I reply, pretending I didn’t notice his little hiccup or the way he stalled.

I open the cupboards, grabbing two plates before I see where the salad bowl is. A grin spreads across my face.

It’s on the highest shelf. The one I can’t reach. Aiden can because his arms are just an inch longer than mine,notbecause he’s taller than me. It’s usually something that pisses me off, but tonight, I don’t think I could be happier.

“Hey, could you get the bowl for me? It’s on that stupid shelf again,” I say, feigning annoyance that makes Aiden chuckle before he saunters over.

I twist, making sure I’m facing his foolishly smug face as he stretches over me to get it. He opens his mouth, likely to say something stupid, but he’s finally close enough to smell me, and it slams shut.

He goes completely still. Then, as if gathering the nerve, he hesitantly sucks in a deep breath. A sharp, reverent inhale. He sways, leaning against me as if he’s lost all strength in his legs.

I smile to myself as his heart starts to pound.

Aiden’s told me on more than one occasion how he loves smelling his scent on me. I get it, because I love it when he smells like me too. I’m sure it’s a turn-on for most mated wolves, and it clearly is for Aiden because I can scent his arousal already.

“Um, Aiden?” I probe, going for confused as I press forward. “You okay?”

I act like I’m pushing us apart when really, I’m just pressing my leg up against his cock. He’s already hard.

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, hastily grabbing the bowl and shoving it against my chest.

He backs away, his lustful eyes raking down my torso, but I his pupils dilate.

“Are you sure?” I ask as I set the bowl down and push off from the counter. I eat up the space he tries to put between us, and press the back of my hand to his forehead. “Werewolves can get sick too, you know.”

I think about what it’d actually be like if Aiden were sick, just enough for the concern in my voice doesn’t seem fabricated, especially when I bring our faces unnecessarily close. It’s harder for me to keep my focus on his forehead,harder still when his tongue flicks over his lips, nearly brushing mine. But by the grace of Goddess, I manage.

“I’m fine, Julian,” he mumbles—only to gulp when I drop my eyes to his.

I study him for a moment, keeping us close while my skin tingles and my lust stirs. The only thing keeping that hidden is his scent coating my skin.

“Okay,” I say, smiling as if relieved. Then I step back, grab the bowl with the plates, and head for the table without another word, leaving him hot, dazed, and hopelessly turned on. Tension skitters down my spine.

Step one—complete.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” I ask once I’m done cleaning up the kitchen.

It’s the first thing I’ve said to Aiden without his prompting. During dinner, I’d been extra careful to only speak when he spoke to me, and when I did, I kept it short.

The goal was to act distant, but fine, so every time Aiden asked if he’d done something wrong, I insisted that he hadn’t and that I was fine.