Page 34 of Gigi and the Gym Rats

Stupid of me. Betas tend to steer clear of alphas. We’re considered hotheads, intense, possessive, but also flighty, tending to go through lovers until we find our pack.

I understand.

A divorced alpha guy with a kid, even if that kid is now an adult… not the best credentials for a relationship.

But that hasn’t been the real issue. She didn’t even know about my past life. And the real issue for me… is that other betas are not Gigi.

Okay,I tell myself. Fine.Enough. You got your answer. Time to move the fuck on. Maybe look for an omega, for a change. Or even another alpha. Try something new.

Someone new.

Someone who isn’t her.

I’ve got it bad, you see. My fault, for waiting and pining for so long, fanning the embers of hope. I kept telling myself I should give her space and time. That she would finally notice, say something.

But no, it took confronting her to find out I’m such a loser.

It annoys me that I’m still hard over her. Been hard since I first saw her in class, been hard every time I see her. And watching her come undone underneath me on that table, the way her hips moved as she took her pleasure against my thigh, the look in her pretty eyes, dazed and full of awe, the scent of her arousal and her cream torturing me…

I need release, badly. I can barely walk as it is. I’ll hit the showers, beat one out, then throw on some clean clothes and go home.

Or go for a drink, or two, or three.

Get laid.

Forget all about her.

As if that’s possible.

Resisting the urge to put my fist through a wall—it would probably go through the cheap cardboard walls of this place, and that certainly wouldn’t endear me to my employers—I head to the lockers to grab my bag, where I keep my change of clothes.

My hands fucking shake as I turn the key and throw the metal door open, rummaging inside for my duffel.

“How are you doing, Zayne?” a sultry voice says from behind me, almost giving me a heart attack.

Slow down,I tell myself.

Easy to say. I almost popped a knot watching Gigi come, and now…

Slow.

Okay.

I turn around and nod at Judy. “What’s up?”

She’s a new trainer, doing the yoga classes. I can’t tell if she’s a beta or an omega. If the latter, she’s using damn good blockers and suppressants.

She’s not my type, though. Is she my type?

She’s not a redhead.

Fucking hell, Zayne, are you hearing yourself?

And the question becomes even more important when she sidles up to me, a smile on her lips.

“I’m good. I couldn’t help noticing you.” Her voice is low, her lashes lowered. She’s flirting with me, hard. “Since I started working here, I’ve been wondering…”

“What?” I bark, against my better judgment.

---