Page 27 of Heat & Deceit
He makes me want, but I can’t have sex with him for a lot of reasons. The biggest being that he would discover I’m really an omega, which would lead to him realizing I’m not really Carmine, which would lead to me losing my job. I need money to pay for the suppressants. I can’t rely on the Hell Hounds to keep me afloat.
I can’t sleep with him, but maybe I can find some way to scratch this itch. There are apps for stuff like this. I’ll download the beta dating app and find someone who can ease this pressing desire before I end up destroying everything I’m working toward.
What could possibly go wrong?
Seven
NOVA
Everything.
Everything that could go wrong is going wrong. First, I accidentally downloaded the wrong app—a clean dating app where dates are guaranteed not to become hookups—and I didn’t realize it until I told Randal about my date at work earlier today.
Javier wasn’t in today—thank fuck.
I swear, the way Randal cackled when I told him the name of the app will haunt my dreams. But I couldn’t cancel on the poor beta. He was so sweet in the messages, and I figured I’d give it a shot. And maybe I hoped he was a closet sex-crazed maniac.
He’s definitely not. There’s no way he’s going to fuck me stupid.
I should have canceled.
On top of the two of us being here for entirely different reasons, Matthew keeps correcting my sentences. The thing is, I’m not actually saying anything wrong. He’s not necessarily incorrect, but there’s also no reason for him to try and fix the way I’m speaking, other than to be an asshole.
I’m sure he doesn’t see it that way, though.
“I’ve never tried sushi before,” I say with a friendly smile.
“I never tried sushi before,” he corrects as he takes a sip of water. “I think you’ll love it.”
I force the smile to stay put. “I think you’ll lovethe sushi,” I say before I can stop myself. There’s only so much overcorrection one person can handle. If he’s going to be so adamant about the way I speak, maybe he should use more precise language himself.
Matthew nods, missing the subtle correction. “I hope so.”
Raucous laughter bursts from the table next to us. My attention shifts to the table—taking in an alpha with gray scale tattoos crawling over every inch of exposed, heavily muscled arms—before I quickly look away.
There must be something in the water. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many alphas who are so...alpha-y. First Javier, and now this guy.
You’re not thinking about alphas. You’re focusing on your date.
I shake my head and try to think of something to say to Matthew. He’s handsome enough, but there’s no spark. It might be because he’s not looking for a quick and dirty hookup in the broom closet.
“What’s so funny?” the alpha’s date snaps before I can think of a way to carry on the conversation with Matthew.
“Sorry,” he tells her with a chuckle.
“Are you eavesdropping on that couple?” the woman whisper shouts, not at all discreet.
My eyes shoot back to the alpha, and he bites his lip when he notices me looking, shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter.
“You know, I don’t think this is going to work out for me. Good luck finding an omega.” The chick gets up and tosses her napkin down before looking straight at me. “I’m sorry he’s such an asshole.”
Then she storms off.
“Language!” Matthew calls, only making the sexy, tattooed alpha laugh harder.
I glance at him and lift an eyebrow, taking in the way his brown eyes crinkle at the corners and the dimple that appears on his left cheek.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He shakes his head and clears his throat. “Sorry?” He glances at me.
