Page 51 of Bound By Alphas 1: Bound

“No!” I groaned, dropping my controller dramatically onto the couch. “That was highway robbery! I demand an investigation! Stewards’ inquiry!”

“That was tactical brilliance,” Keir corrected, his victorious smile making something hot and liquid pool in places I refused to acknowledge. “And now you’re mine for the night.”

The possessive declaration hung in the air, charged with meaning that went far beyond a simple bet about sleeping arrangements. Drew cleared his throat awkwardly while Tyler suddenly found the ceiling texture absolutely fascinating. The temperature in the room seemed to spike ten degrees, and I swear I could hear my own pulse.

“Rematch,” I demanded, trying to ignore the blush I could feel painting my face the same shade as my virtual car. “That was clearly beginner’s luck.”

“Beginner?” Keir’s expression was all wounded dignity. “I’ll have you know I was winning racing tournaments while you were still learning your colors.”

“Yeah, back in the Stone Age,” I shot back. “Best two out of three?”

“You’re on,” he agreed, eyes never leaving mine. “Though I should warn you—I only get better with practice.”

The suggestive undertone wasn’t lost on anyone in the room. Drew made a gagging sound that he poorly disguised as a cough.

The second race was even more intense, with Drew and the others providing commentary that ranged from helpful—“Watch out for that turn!”—absolutely not—“Keir, your tongue is hanging out, dude.”

I was vaguely aware of Sophia and Mia exchanging glances, their perfect smiles slipping just slightly as Keir’s attention remained firmly fixed on me instead of them. It shouldn’t havegiven me satisfaction, but my fox nature had always been slightly possessive—at least, that’s what I told myself.

This time I emerged victorious, throwing my arms up in a victory dance that involved more flailing than actual coordination. “Ha! In your face, Sinclair! Who’s prehistoric now?”

“Congratulations,” Keir said, not looking particularly disappointed for someone who’d just lost. “One all. The next race determines everything.”

The third race would decide my fate. My palms were so sweaty the controller was in danger of becoming a projectile. I was going to win this—had to win this. Not just for the car, but because losing meant…

Well, losing meant spending the night with Keir. Which shouldn’t have sent such a thrill through me but did. A thrill that felt suspiciously like anticipation rather than dread.

We were neck and neck the entire final lap, trading the lead back and forth like a hot potato. The room had gone silent except for the game’s soundtrack and the occasional muttered curse—mostly from me. As we approached the finish line, I had the slightest edge—victory was within my grasp.

And then I felt it. Keir’s hand, casually dropping to my thigh, his fingers tracing a small circle just above my knee that somehow felt more intimate than a full-body embrace. The touch was so unexpected, so distracting, that I jerked the controller sideways, sending my car careening into a guardrail with a spectacular crash.

“That’s cheating!” I gasped as Keir’s car crossed the finish line first. “Flagrant interference! Red card! Technical foul!”

His laugh was pure sin wrapped in velvet. “All’s fair in love and racing games.”

“Did you see that?” I appealed to Drew, gesturing wildly at Keir. “He deliberately sabotaged me! With—with touching!”

Drew held up his hands like I was pointing a weapon. “I’m staying out of this romantic disaster in progress, thanks.”

“Wise man,” Keir said, setting down his controller with the satisfied air of a cat who’d not only caught the canary but had negotiated ownership of the entire aviary. “Looks like you’re bunking with me tonight, Finn.”

The Blackwood cousins chose that moment to make their presence more known, Sophia’s melodic laugh drawing attention. “You two are hilarious together. I can see why Drew says you have the whole house wrapped around your finger, Finn.”

“It’s more like they have me wrapped in bubble wrap,” I muttered, though I couldn’t help smiling at her friendly assessment.

“If you’re done with games,” Mia added, her voice warm and inviting, “we were hoping you might show us the grounds, Keir. Drew mentioned there’s a lovely rose garden?”

Keir’s eyes never left mine as he answered. “Perhaps tomorrow. I have other plans for the evening.”

The polite deflection was delivered with such charming regret that it was impossible to take offense. Still, I didn’t miss the flash of disappointment that crossed both cousins’ faces.

“Of course,” Sophia said smoothly. “Another time. Maybe Finn could show us his artwork instead? Drew says you’re incredibly talented.”

“I, uh—” I stammered, caught off guard by her interest.

“Finn’s studio is private,” Keir interjected, his tone still pleasant but with an unmistakable firmness underneath. “Artists need their sacred spaces. I’m sure you understand.”

Something in his voice made it clear the subject wasn’t open for negotiation. I felt a strange surge of gratitude mixed with surprise at his protection of my space.

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