Page 5

Speechless. Which never fucking happens, let me tell you. I’ve talked to this man damn near every day for the last year, and sure, he’s one of my best friends, but I apparently don’t give him enough credit. He knows me significantly better than I could’ve guessed. Beyond my lunch preferences and inner thoughts, he’s seen more than I ever realized I’d shown.

I’m not sure how I feel about that.

“Say something,” Sy murmurs, looking at me like he’s not sure whether I’m going to burst into tears or shank him.

“I…”

What’s there to say? Congratulations for understanding me on a level I’m not sure even West and Cadence do? Thanks for seeing me? I feel like a shithead because I’m almost positive I don’t know nearly as much about you?

“Elliott Mitchell at a loss for words.” His grin is smug. “ I did that!”

The tension inside me eases at his gentle teasing, but suddenly, the urge to know everything there is to know about this Beta rushes through me with alarming urgency. I can’t explain why, though, so I chalk it up to nothing more than evening the score.

“Is your full name Sy, or is that short for something?”

He blinks, his head tilting like I've just thrown him a curveball.

“My full name’s Seymour, but no one calls me that. Ever.”

“Is it a family name?”

His nose scrunches up, making me pretty sure the pink on his cheeks has nothing to do with the wine he’s consumed.

“My mother and fathers were apparently huge Little Shop of Horrors fans.”

My lips quirk up in a grin. “That’s adorable.”

“No. Nope. Not adorable. Awkward is the word you were looking for, especially considering I was a kid with glasses and my adoptive parents dressed me in button downs and khakis.”

Laughing, I try to picture it. “I’m going to go through that box of photos in your apartment. I want to hang one up in my cubicle.”

His smile drops. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I so totally fucking would.”

“Mitchell…”

“Beckett…”

“Why the sudden interest in my name, anyway?” he asks, avoiding my eyes as he clears our plates and stacks it all on the tray sitting on the table.

Since I’m not sure of the real answer to that question, I stick with my earlier hypothesis. “It’s not fair you know so much about me, yet I know so little about you. Makes me feel…”

“Makes you feel…what?”

Is it just me, or is his voice deeper? Huskier? It sure as shit isn’t the same voice I’ve heard him use on a daily basis.

“Selfish,” I admit with a shrug. “Am I such an awful friend that I make everything about me and never reciprocate?”

He turns abruptly, stalking over to the bed and sitting in front of me with his leg curled up in between us. It’s not like I’ve never seen him in casual clothes before. We’ve had the occasional movie marathons in our comfy PJs with popcorn and sangria, but there’s always been this distance that existed, physically and metaphorically. Right now, he’s close enough that I can feel the heat of his body. I can smell the sweet cranberry and orange of his scent that reminds me of the muffins Cadence makes, and his entire focus is on me. It’s a potent combination, one I’m not sure how to ignore.

He pushes his glasses up with his middle finger, an endearing habit I’ve never once thought of as sexy until now.

“Elle, you’re not selfish. I’m just not overly into sharing. Words aren’t my friends, you know this.”

My grin is a little lopsided. “I don’t know. You seemed pretty buddy buddy with those words a second ago.”

He averts his eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. When he turns back to me, there’s a determined look I’m not at all familiar with.

“I just think that you deserve more than guys who don’t even take the time to remove their pants before getting their dick milked. You deserve to be the sole focus of a man’s attention. Fucking touched like you’re precious and not just a commodity they can pick up at the corner market. You should be appreciated for the amazing woman you are. It…” Staring down at his hands that are resting in his lap, he refuses to look at me when he says, “It frustrates me that you’ve normalized one-night stands and make it sound like sharing more than sex with someone is the most absurd idea on the planet.”

What he doesn’t know is that there are three other guys who feel the same way he does. Three Alphas who sparked something inside me that, despite what my instincts want, I’ve chosen to ignore, pretending like nothing ever happened. They’re the only other men who’ve ever seen into the heart of me, and I was so terrified they’d walk away at what they found buried under the trauma and sarcasm, I walked away first.

But Sy won’t walk away. He’s proven that a million times over. I could give him some sarcastic remarks about men being the meat market and me being the shopper, but I don’t. In this moment, right here, I find the idea of sharing not quite so unpalatable. This is Sy . He deserves honesty after everything he’s put on the table tonight.

“Sex is easy. Sharing your soul with someone is…complicated and terrifying.”

The words are barely above a whisper, but I manage to choke them out. His hazel eyes are steady on mine, and for a second, we just sit there in a silent standoff. Then his face softens, and when his hand lifts to brush a stray piece of hair off my cheek, I hold my breath.

“It’s easier when you trust them. When there’s a relationship beyond a hasty exchange of lust and hormones.”

His hand hasn’t moved. Instead, his thumb is idly caressing my cheek, his fingers sliding along my jaw and into my hair.

My throat is dry, my voice a mere rasp. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never tried.”

“Maybe we should practice.”

“Practice?”

Rather than responding, in a move I never could’ve anticipated if my very life depended on it, he lifts me up and places me in his lap. Strong arms wrap around me, one hand gently guiding my head to rest on his shoulder. I’m sitting sideways, my face tucked into Sy’s neck where his scent floods my senses.

“See? Not terrifying.”

“Nope.” He’s right. It’s not terrifying at all. In fact, I’m pretty sure my entire body relaxes in his hold without my permission, my hand snaking up his defined chest until my hand loosely grips the side of his neck.

“How are you feeling?”

Like I’m two seconds away from twisting my body around and straddling his thighs. But also safe and comforted and a whole slew of other messy shit I do my best to ignore.

So all I manage is a soft “Good.”

He chuckles, the sound doing weird things inside my chest. “Just good, huh?”

“I mean, you’re acing this hug thing, I’ll give you that.”

“Mmmm. Then let’s see if I can make it better than just good .”

“Wha—”

In another crazy ninja maneuver, he has us both laid out on our sides further up the bed, my head tucked under his chin so it rests on one rather large bicep while his other arm wraps around me to tug me in closer.

“How about now?”

With my forehead resting against his chest, I can feel the steady beat of his heart. Suddenly, I understand what he meant earlier because I’m pretty fucking sure my soul just heaved the biggest sigh in the history of sighs.

“This is potent shit, Beckett. You keep offering yourself up for practice, and you might get more than you bargained for.”

I don’t know why those words leave my lips, but I can’t find it in me to even try to play them off. I have no clue what’s happening right now, but maybe that’s okay. I can simply soak up the calm and peace while it’s there and, for once in my life, not worry about what comes next.

“Why don’t you let me worry about that? I’m not going anywhere, Elle, and you have my permission to use me for practice whenever and however you like.”

My heart is suddenly pounding in my chest, and I’m a little worried that if it keeps up the unusual rhythm, I’ll have a fucking heart attack. While this is definitely closer than we’ve ever been, we haven’t crossed any boundaries we can’t come back from…yet. Considering that what I’d really like to practice would take us out of the friendzone and into some other category entirely, we need some redirection, stat!

“You said something earlier, and I’m thinking maybe we should give it a try.”

“Hit me with it. Show me whatcha got, Mitchell.”

“Well…” My voice cracks, so I clear my throat. “As you so kindly mentioned, I’ve never been held while having an intimate conversation. So…tell me something about you that I don’t already know.”

He grins against my hair. “My adoptive family thought I was going to be an Omega, so they were shocked when my designation came in and I was just a Beta.”

Pulling my head back, I stare up into his eyes. “Please tell me they didn’t judge you for that.”

His smile is warm and open. “No. They were shocked, sure, but very understanding and supportive.”

The anger that had flared on his behalf like a lightning strike to dry brush fizzles out without spreading.

“Good.”

“You looked ready to cut a bitch for me. I appreciate that.”

His amusement softens his scent even more, and I inhale deeply, feeling it settle somewhere inside me, soothing a part of my heart I didn’t know had become so brittle.

“I mean, I’m wicked with more than my tongue. Just sayin’.”

His eyes flash, the easy smile turning into more of a smirk.

I groan once I replay those words in my head. “Oh my god. I didn’t actually mean… It’s just another way of saying smart mouth. Not that I’m unskilled with my tongue, because I’ve never had any complaints. I just?—”

One thick finger lands on my lips. “Got it, Elle. Don’t worry.”

I nod silently, my cheeks flaming, then bury my face in his chest again. “Fucking hell. I told you I’m not good at this.”

“Ever heard the term ‘practice makes perfect’?”

“Who hasn’t?”

“Then we just need to keep trying. Now, it’s your turn. When did you lose your virginity?”

A chuckle escapes. “I’m not sure you want to hear that story.”

“Well, now I definitely want to hear that story.”

I sigh. It’s so fucking embarrassing. “You have to promise not to laugh or pity me.”

“Why would I pity you?”

“You’ll see.” I sigh. God, this one’s painful. “So, this Beta guy and I were getting hot and heavy in the backseat of his car. We were sixteen and had no idea what we were doing, so when he told me he was in , well, I was a little surprised because I couldn’t really feel much, but I just figured it wasn’t as awful as I’d heard it would be. He’s pumping his hips, and I guess I could kind of feel a little bit of something , but then he started shaking, his orgasm so strong I almost thought he was having a seizure. He sat back, grabbed some tissues from his glove box, cleaned me up, and drove me home. Of course, I was still hot and bothered, but I was no longer a virgin so I figured I could finally use the dildo West had helped me sneak into my room months before.”

“Where in the hell did you guys get a dildo?”

“West gave it to me. I’m pretty sure one of the players had picked it up for her. They didn’t like the idea of her having sex and thought a toy would help delay the inevitable, but she didn’t want her dad finding it, so she gave it to me. My money’s on Barrett, but I digress. So there I am, lying on my bed, confident about my new womanhood, and I thrust the toy into my penis fly trap and?—”

He coughs. “I’m sorry. What did you just call your vagina?”

“My penis fly trap because she?—”

“You know what, I don’t want to know. Just…continue.”

“So, I thrust the toy in and feel this blinding white pain. Turns out, I took my own virginity because Beta boy wasn’t big enough to get the job done. And when I say he wasn’t big enough, I later heard other girls talking about the poor dude’s mini Vienna sausage.”

“I don’t know whether to laugh or feel really sad for you right now.”

“When I told the girls, we decided my dildo would forever be known as Vigo the Virgin Eater.”

His laughter rings through the room, and I smile against the soft cotton covering his chest.

“This honestly explains so much about your comfort with sex and sexuality.”

“Right? A girl who takes her own virginity can handle anything that comes after that.”

He shakes his head, tugging me in a little closer. Without thinking, I lift my leg and slide it up the outside of his thigh. I hear his swift intake of breath, feel his hand twitch on my lower back as his hips pull back slightly, but decide to pretend like this is totally a platonic position to hold with your best friend.

“Okay, now that you know my most embarrassing story, tell me something you’ve never told another soul.”

His thumb starts drawing circles on the skin exposed between my cami and shorts. “No judging?”

He says it softly, like whatever he’s about to say has him feeling nervous and unsure. But if I can tell him my first time was with a man so small I’m not even technically sure he was really inside me at all, he can tell me anything.

“Pinky swear. No judging.”

His exhale rustles my hair. “And you trust me, right?”

Pulling back, I study his serious expression. “Of course I trust you. Would I really be lying here in your arms, on a hotel room bed, telling you about my penis fly trap if I didn’t?”

“Right. Well then… I have this…um… interest that I’ve never told anyone about other than one person because it’s somewhat outside the norm of what people think of when they talk about kinks.”

Just the word kinks leaving his mouth when I’m wrapped up in him has my vagina weeping a little. Literally and figuratively.

“We all have kinks, Sy.”

“Not like this one though.” He pushes my face back into his chest. “I can’t look at you when I say this.”

I laugh, fisting my hands into his shirt in order to stop them from wandering like they suddenly want to.

“Well, my face is buried into your rather bulky chest now, so spill it, Beckett.”

“I’m into somnophilia.”

I roll the word around in my head, trying to pull up anything I know about it, which is admittedly limited.

“That’s being turned on by someone sleeping, right?”

“Yes. And I sort of have PTSD about even admitting that because of a past experience?—”

My head forces his hand, the one that had been holding me in place, away so I can catch his eyes with mine.

“What happened?”

He grimaces. “My girlfriend of six months and I had discussed my rather peculiar curiosity about having sex with someone while they were fully asleep. We’d discussed the hows and whys and eventually got to the point where consent was given. Or so I thought…”

My stomach sinks and, without thinking, my hand cups his jaw.

“What did she do?”

He swallows harshly. “She woke up in the middle of it. It was dark, I was on top of her, and she panicked. Pushed me off, scrambled out of bed, and kept shaking. I couldn’t get her to calm down. Eventually, she got dressed and left. A couple hours later, she texted me and apologized. Said she didn’t realize it would be a trigger for her, but after that, she wasn’t sure she could look at me the same way, so she broke things off.”

“Oh, Sy.”

“I’ve been too scared to try it again.”

“I’m so sorry she ruined the experience for you, but you didn’t do anything wrong. And neither did she. Sometimes we don’t even know what our triggers are until one appears.”

“I know, and I don’t fault her for it. I’m just not sure if I’ll ever trust someone enough to put myself out there like that again.”

A small voice in my head is begging me to tell him I’d happily repay the favor and he could practice with me, but I lock that thought up and throw away the key.

“Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me your secret.”

“Thank you for trusting me enough to be here, like this, pushing you past your discomfort.”

The surprising thing is that it hasn’t been at all uncomfortable. It’s been…nice. Honestly, it’s been better than nice, and that’s what’s starting to terrify me.

“We should get some sleep. It’s late.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of us moves. We lie there in the silence of the unfamiliar room, in each other’s arms, and somehow fall asleep tangled up together.