Page 9
I wake with my skin on fire.
The heat roars through me without warning, dragging me from restless sleep to full consciousness in seconds. Sweat slicks my skin, my pulse hammering against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. I kick the sheets away, a curse tearing from my throat.
“Fuck. Not now.”
My body has betrayed me, just as the Bureau planned, just as I knew it was going to do. Seven days of proximity to Nash Thorndike, breathing his infuriating scent, and now my body is staging a coup. I’ve felt it building—the fever, the hypersensitivity, the way my gaze kept tracking him even when I wanted to look anywhere else. Fuck.
I press my palms against my eyes, trying to focus through the rising tide of need. Options. I need options. I could lock myself in this room. Ride it out alone. It would be agonizing, but I’ve endured worse. I knew I was going to give in on this part. I’ve known it since I’ve arrived and if I am honest, I’ve been looking forward to it. Thorndike is right about the chemistry, if nothing else. Fucking him will get him out of my system.
A fresh wave of heat crashes over me, and I bite my lip to keep from making a sound. My skin is too tight, too hot, too everything. Between my thighs, I’m already slick and aching, my body preparing for him.
The soft knock at my door isn’t a surprise. Of course he knows. He can smell it and he’s been waiting for this moment since they dragged me here.
“.”
Nash’s voice comes through the wood, deeper than usual, with an edge I haven’t heard before.
“Let me in.”
Not a request. A command. The dominance in his voice makes me want to clench my thighs together. He’ll know that too. Damn alphas.
“Go away,”
I manage, though my body screams the opposite.
“You’re in heat.”
“No shit, Professor.”
I press my thighs together, trying to ignore the pulse of want his voice triggers.
“Your observational skills are breathtaking.”
“This isn’t a debate.”
His voice drops lower.
“Open the door.”
“Everything with you is a debate,”
I snap, but I’m already moving toward the door, my body overriding my brain’s objections.
“And I’m still winning.”
I wrench the door open, ready with another cutting remark, but the sight of him steals my breath.
Nash fills the doorway, his pupils blown wide, nostrils flaring as he takes in my scent. His own scent has intensified, cedar and bergamot. It calls to something so primal that it makes my mouth water and my knees weak.
“You don’t look like you’re winning,”
he says, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Fuck you,” I hiss.
His mouth curves in a dangerous smile.
“That’s the general idea. Are you going to say yes? I am going to leave if you tell me to.”
The thought of him leaving sends a wave of panic through me. All I want to do is rip his clothes off. I don’t think I can do this. I can’t just go sit in the corner again. My body is aching for him.
I blink twice, desperately trying to clear the heat fog from my head so I can think. I’m no virgin. I’ve ridden out my heat with alphas before, a couple of omegas too. They were fun and satisfying and not one of them led to any kind of claiming. I can have sex without losing myself completely.
“Let’s get one thing straight,”
I say, keeping my distance even as my body begs me to close it.
“If you fuck me, it doesn’t change anything”
“If--?”
His smile is infuriating. Why on earth did I have to match with such a smug son of a bitch?
“Yes. We both know I’m going to give in. That this whole thing was leading here. It’ll just be sex.”
Nash’s eyes darken, turn predatory. His gaze sweeps the length of my body. I should want to hide it but I don’t. I want him to strip me naked and pin me down.
“Just get it over with,”
I say.
“And my ‘yes’ is just to the heat. It’s not consent to your entire worldview.”
“Always so concerned with being right.”
Nash shuts the door behind him.
“Even now.”
“One of us has to be.”
Another wave of heat makes me shudder, and I hate how his eyes track the movement.
“Since you’re so happy to be wrong.”
“We’ll see who’s wrong when you’re screaming my name.”
The arrogance, the absolute certainty in his voice should infuriate me. Instead, it sends another pulse of heat straight to my core.
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
Nash moves toward me, deliberate as a predator.
“It’s not flattery if it’s true.”
“You think pretty highly of your abilities for someone who’s never touched me.”
“That’s about to change.”
I back up until my legs hit the edge of the bed.
“This is just heat. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
He’s close enough now that I can feel the heat radiating off his body, smell the alpha pheromones that my omega body is programmed to respond to.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
I accuse, even as my hands itch to grab him, to pull him against me.
“Being proven right. Watching me need you.”
Something flashes in his eyes—not just desire, but frustration. Good. I want him as off-balance as I feel.
“What I’m enjoying,”
Nash says, his voice a low growl.
“is watching you fight yourself and lose.”
That does it. I grab his shirt, yanking him toward me.
“I never lose.”
I crash our mouths together, teeth clashing, nothing gentle about it. This isn’t surrender. It’s an attack. I bite his lower lip, hard enough to punish, and he groans into my mouth, his hands finally, finally coming up to grip my hips.
Nash kisses like he argues: with intensity and absolute conviction. He takes control of the kiss, one hand sliding up to fist in my hair, tilting my head to deepen the angle. I fight back, nails digging into his shoulders, refusing to yield even as my body melts against his.
“Just chemistry,”
I gasp when we break apart, both breathing hard.
“Keep lying to yourself.”
He pushes me back onto the bed, following me down, his weight pinning me in the most satisfying way.
His mouth finds my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive scent gland there, and I arch beneath him, a moan escaping before I can stop it. My hands push under his shirt, desperate for skin contact, nails scoring down his back.
“Off,”
I demand, tugging at the fabric.
“Take it off.”
Nash sits back on his heels, straddling my thighs, and pulls his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. The sight of him—all lean muscle and golden skin—makes my mouth go dry. I’ve tried not to notice how attractive he is for the past week, but now, with heat coursing through me, there’s no denying it.
“Like what you see?”
he asks, that infuriating smirk playing at his lips.
“Shut up.”
I reach for him, pulling him back down.
“Just shut up and touch me.”
He complies, but on his terms, not mine. His hands slide under my sleep shirt, calloused palms against overheated skin, moving with maddening slowness.
“So demanding,”
he murmurs against my neck.
“Always trying to control everything.”
“And you don’t?”
I challenge, gasping as his thumbs brush over my nipples. He chuckles against my skin, the vibration sending shivers down my spine.
“The difference is, I know when to let go.”
“Prove it,”
I bite out.
Nash’s eyes darken. With one smooth motion, he tears my shirt down the middle, buttons scattering across the bed. The display of strength makes something primal in me respond, slick flooding between my thighs.
“That was unnecessary,”
I say, fighting to keep my voice steady.
“No.”
His gaze rakes over my exposed chest, hunger evident in every line of his face.
“It was very necessary.”
His mouth replaces his hands, hot and wet against my skin, and I arch into the contact, fingers threading through his hair. He’s methodical in his exploration, finding every sensitive spot with unerring accuracy, as if he’s studied me specifically for this moment.
“Stop teasing,”
I demand when he spends too long on my collarbones, my ribs, everywhere except where I need him most.
“Not teasing.”
He looks up at me, eyes dark with desire but still so fucking composed.
“I’m being thorough.”
“I don’t need thorough. I need—”
My words cut off on a moan as he finally, finally moves lower, mouth hot through the thin fabric of my sleep pants.
“What do you need, ?”
He hooks his fingers in the waistband, pulling slowly. “Say it.”
“You know what I need.”
I lift my hips, helping him remove the last barrier between us, too far gone for pride.
“Say it,”
he insists, hovering above me, so close I can feel his breath but not his touch.
“I need you to fuck me,”
I growl, grabbing his shoulders. “Now.”
Triumph flashes in his eyes.
“As you wish.”
He stands just long enough to shed his remaining clothes, and then he’s back, gloriously naked and hard against me. The feeling of skin on skin is electric, drawing gasps from both of us. His hands are everywhere, mapping every inch of me, learning me with the same intensity he brings to everything.
“Stop analyzing,”
I mutter, recognizing the clinical focus in his gaze.
“Just feel.”
“I am feeling.”
His voice is rough, strained.
“Everything.”
I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him closer, needing the weight and pressure of him.
“Then prove it.”
That’s all the challenge he needs. With one powerful thrust, he’s inside me, the stretch and fullness exactly what my heat-driven body has been craving. We both freeze for a moment, the sensation overwhelming, the connection undeniable. For a moment, I can’t breath. Nothing exists except him inside me.
“Fuck,”
I whisper finally, nails digging into his shoulders.
“That’s the idea,”
he echoes his earlier words, voice tight with restraint.
And then we’re moving, finding a rhythm that’s as much battle as it is pleasure. I refuse to yield, meeting each thrust with equal force, refusing to be passive even in this. Nash matches me perfectly, somehow knowing exactly when to push harder, when to slow down, when to change the angle to hit that spot that makes stars explode behind my eyes.
“Admit it,”
he says against my ear, voice ragged.
“We’re perfect together.”
“Physically compatible,”
I concede, the words punctuated by moans.
“Doesn’t mean—anything else.”
He laughs, the sound turning into a groan as I clench around him deliberately.
“You’re still arguing. Even now.”
I gasp as he hits a particularly sensitive spot.
“Oh, God—there.”
“Here?”
He repeats the motion, more deliberately this time, and watches my reaction in a way that should infuriate me but somehow makes everything more intense.
“Yes—fuck—don’t stop.”
“I love watching you lose control,”
Nash says, his rhythm never faltering.
“All that defiance, all that resistance, melting away.”
“I’m not—melting,”
I argue, even as my body belies my words, trembling on the edge of release.
“No?”
He shifts slightly, the new angle sending sparks of pleasure coursing through me.
“Then what would you call this?”
“Temporary—biological—necessity,”
I manage between gasps.
Nash laughs again, the sound dark and knowing.
“Keep telling yourself that.”
He speeds up, driving into me with a force that borders on punishing, giving me exactly what I need without me having to ask. It’s maddening how well he reads my body, how perfectly he responds to every unconscious cue.
“Come for me, ,”
he commands, one hand sliding between us to where we’re joined.
“Show me how much your body knows what your mind refuses to accept.”
“Shut up,”
I growl, but I’m already falling, pleasure crashing through me in waves, whiting out everything but the sensation of him inside me, around me, overwhelming me.
I don’t scream his name. I won’t give him that satisfaction. But I can’t stop the sounds that tear from my throat, can’t control the way my body clings to his, demanding more, demanding everything.
Nash follows me moments later, his control finally, satisfyingly shattered. He buries his face in my neck, teeth grazing over my scent gland without breaking skin. The feeling sends aftershocks of pleasure through me, my body responding to even the suggestion of bonding.
For an instant, I feel the urge to tell him to do it. Tell him to bite me, claim me, but the moment passes and I keep my mouth shut.
For several minutes, we lie tangled together, breathing hard, neither willing to be the first to move or speak. I’m acutely aware of every point of contact between us, the weight of him pressing me into the mattress, the slight tremors still running through both our bodies.
Finally, Nash rolls to the side, breaking the connection but remaining close. Too close. I should push him away, establish boundaries. Instead, I stare at the ceiling, trying to reconcile what just happened.
“That was...”
Nash begins.
“Heat sex,”
I finish for him, voice flat.
“Nothing more.”
He props himself up on one elbow, looking down at me with an intensity that makes me want to squirm. A smile curves at the corner of his mouth. “Uh huh.”
“It’s the truth.”
I meet his gaze defiantly.
“One orgasm doesn’t change anything.”
“One?”
His mouth curves further in that infuriating smile.
“We’re just getting started.”
As if on cue, another wave of heat begins building in my core. Not as urgent as before, but insistent nonetheless. My heat will last at least another day, probably three or four given the compatibility between us. Dozens more encounters like this one. Dozens more opportunities for Nash to wear down my resistance.
The thought should terrify me. Instead, I feel a treacherous thrill of anticipation.
“Next round, I’m on top,”
I say, pushing him onto his back and straddling his hips. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it on my terms.
Nash’s hands settle on my waist, his thumbs tracing circles on my hip bones.
“Always fighting for control.”
“Always,”
I agree, leaning down to bite at his lower lip.
“Problem with that, Professor?”
His eyes darken, pupils dilating further.
“Not at all, Mr. Torres.”
I kiss him again, hard and demanding, refusing to give him the upper hand even as my body prepares for another round. This is still just chemistry. Just heat. I can give my body what it needs without surrendering anything else.
At least, that’s what I tell myself as Nash’s hands slide up my back, as his mouth finds the sensitive spot beneath my ear, as my hips begin moving of their own accord, seeking friction, seeking connection.
For now, I’ll take what my body needs. I’ll argue with him through every thrust, every touch. I’ll fight to maintain control even as I lose it spectacularly.
And when the heat subsides, I’ll go back to hating him with every fiber of my being.
It’s the only way I survive this.