Page 73 of Nursing the Alpha
The room reeked of sex and sweat. I wrinkled my nose at the cloying, sticky sweetness clinging to the air.
We had been animals last night. No other way to describe it.
I swung my legs out of bed carefully, wincing as my sore thighs protested. The sheets beneath me were twisted, damp with more than just sweat. The sight alone made heat crawl up my neck.
With a grimace, I tugged them off and bundled them under my arm.
The bathroom was blessedly cool. I shoved the sheets into the washing machine and got it running. Then I stepped under the shower, letting the water run hot over my aching muscles.
As the spray hit my pecs, I flinched. They were tender, skin flushed and nipples still pebbled. He’d left marks, faint but visible, where his teeth had grazed me, where his fingers had kneaded too hard in his desperation.
I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead to the cool tiles.
Gods, last night…
The way he’d taken me like he couldn’t get deep enough. The way I’d begged him not to stop, even when my body had screamed that I couldn’t take more.
The way we’d collapsed afterward, tangled in each other, too wrung out to speak.
We hadn’t talked. Not really.
I sighed, running my hands over my wet face.
The water turned cold, and I stepped out, shivering.
I dressed quickly in soft sweatpants and a loose shirt, my body still humming from last night’s attention. Then I returned to the bedroom, straightened the bed with fresh sheets, and opened the window a crack to let in some fresh air.
The smell of coffee drifted into the room, and my stomach rumbled. But although hungry, I paused in the doorway, my hand on the frame.
Seth was there.
Last night, we had great sex multiple times, and I fell asleep to the sound of his steady breathing and the press ofhis arms around me. But we never really talked about everything that had happened between us.
The clink of cutlery and the sizzle of bacon echoed from the kitchen.
I let out a shaky breath.
It was time.
Time to face him.
To see if last night had been about more than lust and desperation.
To find out if we were still broken or if there was something left to rebuild.
Seth stood at the stove, shirtless, sweatpants slung low on his hips. His hair was still damp from a shower, the ends curling slightly at the back of his neck. He looked so domestic, it felt jarring after the raw, animalistic way he’d claimed me the night before.
When he heard me, he glanced over his shoulder, his expression softening into a smile that made something in my chest ache.
“Morning.” Almost as an afterthought, he crossed the kitchen and pressed a quick kiss to my temple. “Sit. You’re just in time.”
The counter was covered in food—eggs, toast, a small mountain of pancakes, and an entire platter of fruit.
“You… made all this?” I slid into a chair.
“Went out for groceries while you were sleeping.” His tone was casual, but my heart gave a weird little stutter.
“Thanks,” I murmured, unsure what else to say.
