Page 71 of Pack Choice
“Shit, I need a shower,” I say, causing him to growl a little, a noise he covers with a fake yawn in the next moment.
“You should stay home and rest. Give that cut a chance to heal. Let Silver and our men do more investigating about the accident last night.”
“You’ll look after me and I’ll be fine.”
I sense he’s going to argue some more, so I trot into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.
“Molly!” he says, in the doorway and catching the door with his hand before I can complain. “I need a shirt.”
I peer at his very bare chest, remembering I stripped him of Silver’s t-shirt last night.
“Oh,” I say, reaching for my gown hanging on the back of the bathroom door and wrapping it round my body. “You go get washed up then and I’ll find you something.”
He takes a step closer and my pulse jumps in my throat, half expecting him to tug me towards him and pick up where we left last night. Which, if it didn’t mean I’d end up being late, I’d be very happy to continue. But he doesn’t. His stature is back to being all rigid and I have that nagging feeling he’s regretting what happened last night.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
“The shower can be a little temperamental,” I say, swallowing down the emotions I can feel brewing in my belly. It’s fine. I’m used to this. To the rejection. To the little speech that comes. I can handle it. I’m not bothered. It’s not like this was serious or anything. A lone wolf is not what I need right now. “You have to waggle the lever a bit to find the right temperature,” I add, ducking under his arm and out of the room.
The house is silent – after all it is some ungodly hour. I listen anyway, checking for the sounds of any over-protective brothers and their packmates. Are Silver’s men still patrolling outside? Did anyone see anything last night? Anything they’ll be reporting back to Silver.
Well, if they did, I’ll deal with that when I have to. Right now, I’m more concerned by the tension between Ford and me. I don’t want things to be awkward. Not when they were anything but when we were in bed together. No, that had been … perfect? I don’t think anyone has ever felt that good inside me before. Their bodies have never molded to mine with such ease. Almost like we were designed for one another.
I push that dangerous idea from my mind and creep into Axel’s old bedroom, opening up the wardrobe. There’re a few shirts still hanging inside and I select the largest looking one and creep back down the hallway, my heart nearly stopping in my chest when a floorboard creaks loudly under my foot.
Back in the safety of my room, I find Ford, pants back on, hair wet, chest glistening. The man must shower at lightning speed.
“Here,” I say, passing him the shirt, “it may be a little short in the arms but ...”
“I can roll up the sleeves.”
“Great,” I say, fidgeting with the ties around my waist. “About last night …”
I like Ford. Definitely more than I should and I don’t want there to be any tension between us. It was just sex – very good, very hot, very amazing sex – but sex nonetheless. If he is feeling any kind of reservations about it now, then … then I don’t want him to.
I’m not one of those sweet, weepy types of omegas who breaks her heart every time an alpha knots her. I’m a Stormgate. I’m made of steely stuff.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his face void of all emotion as he holds the shirt in his hand. “I overstepped the mark. It won’t happen again.”
“It won’t?” I ask, with a little tease I can’t help. Because, the sex was good, hot and amazing and I wouldn’t mind it happening again. Would it be as perfect a second time round?
“Molly,” he says with what I could almost mistake for a hint of sadness, “I can’t give you what you need.”
I smile at him. “I think you can.”
“A pack?” The smile falls from my lips. “Besides, I like working for Silver. This job means a lot to me and I’m not prepared to throw it away.”
Hurt blossoms in my chest and a look of alarm flashes over his face. Quickly, I reorder my features. “Don’t worry, Ford,” I tell him. “No one is going to find out. Your job is safe.”
He opens his mouth to speak but I’m already shutting the bathroom door for the second time.
* * *
So much fordissipating that tension. It’s there hovering in the car like a storm cloud fit to burst all the way to the office, turning the air heavy and muggy, making it impossible to breathe.
I find a radio station on my phone and turn it up loud, staring out of the window and refusing to meet Ford’s eye in the rearview mirror.
It was just a one-night thing for him.
