Page 9 of Cleat Heat

Lie.

Water runs in rivulets down my back, slipping from my long tresses and dripping onto the floor to create a puddle around my feet. Shivering from the cold shower, I grip my bathroom sink as heat battles in my core.

Knot. Knot. Knot.

My eyes meet their reflection in the mirror, and I can’t help but notice the deepening color, the flush on my cheeks, and the enlargement of my black pupils.

Fuck. This is so bad.

My body hums with skin so sensitive that even my giant fluffy towel felt too grating against my tender flesh. A whimper builds within me. There’s only one way to make this better. But I don’t want it. I can’t.

Knot. Knot. Knot.

Ignoring the wet trail behind me, I make my way back toward my bedroom, searching for my phone as hunger surges through me. A deep, devastating hunger for both food and Alpha cock.

My hands lift my blankets and pillows, their soft textures inviting, as I frantically search my nest for the lost phone so I can order some meal deliveries before this heat becomes full-on. After tossing half of my nest on the floor, I realize I must have left it somewhere else. Walking feels impossible as my limbs become heavy, and I sway back and forth on my feet, bumping into the wall as I continue my search.

“Ouch,” I mumble, but the pain in my shoulder quickly fades behind the constant, unrepentant ache of my pussy.

I’m going to have to take care of that as soon as I place some orders.

Panting from the simple exertion of fighting my heat, the tiniest hint of relief rushes through me when I spot my phone on the counter. Snagging it as quickly as my sluggish body will allow, I tap the screen to turn it on and move to open the refrigerator.

Cool air fans my overheating skin, and the heat-fog lifts for just a few seconds, allowing me to take stock of what sustenance I currently have on hand in my apartment. And the answer is nothing. There are a few sports drinks, a lone, sad apple, and a box of ancient takeout stuffed at the back.

Shit. Shit. SHIT.

Tears fill my eyes at the sight of the empty shelves as my stomach growls and clenches. Pressing my cheek against the open door, I try to blink them back and swallow the emotions threatening to swamp me.

Mako meows at me, leaping up onto the counter, completely amused by my current hot-mess status.

“Yeah, I know. I should have gotten groceries like a week ago,” I mumble, berating myself for all the things I should have done differently. Number one—not confronting sexy Alpha holes who were perfectly designed to send me into heat.

“Actually, no, this isn’t my fault,” I mutter to the empty room, opening the freezer to see if it might help cool me further. Sadly, this side has less food than the other, and I hold back the desperate whine building in my throat. “This is their fault. Getting me all worked up. Pushing me over the top. Mates, my ass, more like banes of my existence.”

At the thought of their handsome faces, the memory of their scents wraps around me. Dash’s dark chocolate causes my nipples to pucker instantly, hardening to sharp points. Even the air seems too rough against them, and the sensitivity makes slick drip from my core.

Oh goodness. I need them.

A whine leaves my lips, and my limbs tremble, but I focus back on the task at hand. I refuse to be pathetic right now. I can take care of my own damn self.

Tapping rapidly on my favorite meal delivery app, I schedule several different food drop-offs for the next few days and breathe a sigh of relief. After closing it, I notice the bright red bubble above my text messages for the first time.

“Fifteen new texts. What the heck?”

The refrigerator beeps at me angrily, and I grab the lone carton of ice cream from the freezer before slamming it shut. Great, it’s fucking dark chocolate… my favorite, but now I’m mad at it. For a moment, I consider tossing it back in, not needing the reminder, but it’s the only thing I want. The only thing that can satiate me. It will have to do for now.

The container is heavenly against my overheated skin, and I hold it tightly against my abdomen as I open the silverware drawer to grab a spoon before popping the top and digging in.

The cold, creamy deliciousness melts over my tongue decadently, once again making me think of that big, sexy Alpha jerk. Ugh. No, thank you. But, just the same, I can’t stop the image of Dash that comes to mind. His big muscles bunch as he reaches over me, lifting the treat to my lips—eyes darkening as I swallow it down.

“Stop it, you horny b!” I scold myself, shaking my head to dispel the thought.

Buzzing erupts from my forgotten phone, and I look down, surprised to see it in the same hand that’s grasping the ice cream container like a lifeline.

Unknown

Even if you don’t say yes, please just let us know you got home safe, little flier.

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