Page 28 of His Problem Alpha
"We don't—" I stop myself. "That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?" He's pulling his jeans back up, his hands not quite steady. "Because five minutes ago you werefucking me on our kitchen counter, and now you're standing there looking like someone died."
The words hit too close, and I flinch. Devon notices—of course he does, he notices everything—and his face softens.
"Sorry," he mutters. "That was... I didn't mean—"
"It's fine." I cut him off. I don't want his pity. I don't want to explain. "Look, we should talk about this. About what happens next."
He crosses his arms, a defensive move that makes him look smaller. "What's there to talk about? We fucked. It was good. End of story."
His words sting. I wasn't expecting that. "Is that what you want? For it to be a one-time thing?"
His eyes flick to mine, then away. "Is that whatyouwant?"
We’re just circling each other, two wounded animals afraid to show any weakness.
"I think..." I force my voice to stay calm, even though everything inside me is screaming. "I think we could have a practical arrangement."
"A practical arrangement," he repeats, his voice flat. "Sounds romantic."
"That's the point. It's not romantic. It's practical." I lean against the counter, trying to look casual when my heart is hammering my ribs. "We're both adults. We have needs. We're already living together. It makes sense."
His eyes narrow. "So what, we're fuck buddies now? Roommates with benefits?"
"If you want to call it that."
"What would you call it?"
I shrug, aiming for nonchalance and missing by a mile. "A mutually beneficial arrangement. You go into heat, I help you through it. We both get physical release when we need it. Simple."
He studies me, his expression unreadable. Then he laughs, a short, sharp sound with no humor in it. "Right. Simple. Because that's what this feels like."
"It can be," I insist, trying to convince myself. "We just need some ground rules."
"Ground rules." He shakes his head, but I see him considering it. "Like what?"
"Like... exclusivity." The word comes out more possessive than I meant. I clear my throat. "For health reasons. We should be exclusive while this arrangement lasts."
The thought of Devon with another alpha makes a primitive rage claw at my insides. I feel my hands balling into fists and force them to relax.
"Exclusive but not romantic," Devon says slowly, testing the words. "That's rule one?"
I nod, relieved. "Rule two: no sleeping over. We keep our own spaces."
The words feel wrong as I say them. The thought of Devon leaving my bed, of not having his warmth to chase away the nightmares, creates a physical ache deep in my chest. But it's necessary. Distance is safe. Distance keeps people alive.
"No sleeping over," he repeats. I think I see disappointment in his eyes before it’s gone. "What else?"
"No scent marking outside of... when we're together." This one is the hardest. Even now, I'm fighting the urge to pull him close, to rub my face against his neck and cover him in my scent so everyone knows. "It sends the wrong message."
His eyes widen. "You've been scent marking me?"
"Not intentionally," I mutter, looking away. "It's just... our scents. They're compatible."
"Compatible," he echoes.
"Yeah. It's just biology." I look at him again. "Your scent... it calms my alpha."
