Page 48 of Fourth Base with the Alpha

“Then stay,” Layla insists, stroking her arm.

Isabella peers up at me.

Do I want her to stay? Do I want to stay at this party with her?

Fuck, yes.

But let’s not kid ourselves here, we’ll be sleeping in the same room. At least, we’ll have to if we want to keep up this fake-dating ruse.

I pick up her dress from the sand and hand it to her.

“Let’s go get a drink,” I tell her and she slides the red material over her head and down her body. I sling my t-shirt over my shoulder and we trudge up the sand back towards the house.

“So you want to stay?” I ask her. “Because ignore Layla. She can be a brat–”

“I love Layla and I want to stay but only if you do too. I don’t want to keep you here if you’d rather go.”

I swallow, squinting at her, the sun low in the sky and fierce in my eyes.

“Omega, if we stay it’ll mean sharing a room.”

I let that sentiment hang out there with all its implied complications and implications.

Her face is bathed in shadow and I struggle to read her expressions. Does the prospect scare her? Disgust her? Excite her?

I’ll be damned if I can tell.

“Oh-kay,” she says slowly. “And are you all right with that?”

“I am. Are you?”

“Yes,” she curls a lock of hair behind her ear, “two people can share a room together. It doesn’t–”

“No, it doesn’t … I can sleep on the floor.”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor. I’m sure the bed is humongous given the size of the house.”

“Are you sure it wouldn’t be inappropriate?” I feel like such a fucking sleaze.

“This isn’t the Victorian era, Hunter. You won’t be besmirching my reputation.”

“There weren’t any clauses in the contract that covered this,” I say with a tease.

She hits her palm against her forehead. “Dumb! I should have foreseen this eventuality. Fake-dating always leads to bed-sharing eventually. It’s sort of inevitable.”

I wish I’d seen one of these fake-dating movies. Maybe I’d have a clue how to handle this whole affair.

Maybe I’d know what the hell is likely to happen next.

12

Isabella

As the sun sets,lighting the sky a multitude of reds and pinks, Jessie performs her set on the raised platform and I dance along to some of the more boppy songs with Layla and Ruby.

By the time she’s done, the sky is pitch black, a sliver of a moon slicing up the darkness. The air cools quickly and I shiver, hugging my arms around my middle.

“Are you cold?” Hunter asks me.