Page 10 of The Season
“Shh…” Aehaeko dragged one claw along Charles’s spine, eliciting a series of shivers from his weak human lover. “It is I you should be worshiping, Captain, and not the gods.”
Aehaeko’s stem throbbed inside the human’s tight hole, the wild tendrils within his hardened length desperate to unfurl, to latch on and pulse out their release. Charles bucked against him, and Aehaeko squeezed his eyes shut as the desire to breed his mate became almost overwhelming.
But he couldn’t. Not yet. Not when Charles didn’t know what he was to Aehaeko. Perhaps didn’t even know that his perfect, human body was capable of carrying Aehaeko’s young…
“Oh, hey, I forgot to mention earlier but that chick who came by is moving in tomorrow.”
I blink, looking up as images of Captain Charles getting deliciously railed give way to the unwelcome sight of Matty fresh out of the shower. He’s standing less than a meter away from me, a towel wrapped around his waist as he lifts one leg, resting his foot on the couch and lathering lotion from his calf to his thigh.
“Putain de merde,” I grit out, lifting one hand to shield my eyes. But it’s too late. I’ve already gotten an eyeful of Matty’s balls, and there’s no unseeing it.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak in French before,” Matty muses, pausing midlather to shoot me a dopey grin.
I glare at him, making sure to keep my eyes locked on his face. I’m not going to dignify that observation with a response.
“Matty, I told you to stop doing that,” Seth calls out from behind the kitchen island. I can barely see him from behind the growing wall of empty beer cans. “You can’t just go around flashing people.”
“What?” Matty drops his leg, only to squirt another dollop of lotion into his hands and lift his other leg. “What’d yah mean? I’ve got a towel on. Besides, we’re all guys here.”
Seth rolls his eyes, shooting me an exasperated smile. I don’t smile back.
“Did you say that hot chick is moving in?” Eddie calls out from down the hallway, his head peeking around the doorframe like a gopher. “The one with the boobs?”
“Uh, yah.” Matty blushes, then drops his legs, wiping his hands on his towel. “But maybe don’t talk about her like that? At least, not when she’s here…”
Eddie grins.
“You probably should have spoken to us before telling her she could move in,” Seth dutifully points out, coming out from behind the wall of beer cans to stand in the living room, a bowl of mac ‘n’ cheese clutched to his chest. “Or checked with us. Because I… uh, I already kind of told someone they could have the room.”
“What? Who?” Matty asks, a line forming between his eyes.
“Shit, no way.” Eddie leans against the doorframe, his eyes round with disbelief. He lets out a harsh chuckle, then shakes his head. “That’s fucking hilarious. I just told Liam he could move in.”
I gape at my three idiot flatmates in disbelief.
“Liam?” Matty straightens, clutching his towel to his waist. “What Liam is that?”
Eddie makes a face. “Liam Sutherland. Obviously.”
I feel the blood drain from my face, my fingers tensing around my paperback.No. No, no, no.This cannot be happening to me.
“Shoot. I know him,” Matty says. “That’s my coach.”
Eddie waves one hand dismissively. “Only for what, a week? Two? Then he’s just another instructor like the rest of us.”
Matty shakes his head, looking completely horrified. It’s a sentiment I share, for very different reasons.
“What’s wrong with Liam Sutherland?” Seth asks, looking between the three of us with open curiosity. “Is he, like, a dick or something?”
I huff out a mirthless laugh, because that’s the understatement of the year.
I met Liam Sutherland once, four years ago, and it was an utterly unforgettable experience. He’d been eighteen, fresh from his first Olympic victory and already training for his next in Villars-sur-Ollon. I was sixteen, trapped in the gold-plated hell that was my upscale boarding school, where my only escape had been the school ski team and occasional trips home to Paris.
It was on one of those trips home that I’d met him at a club in Montmartre. I’d gotten in on a fake ID. He’d given me a false name—before giving me the most incredible kiss of my life.
My first kiss.
Without thinking about it, I press my fingertips to my lips, as if the memory of him still lingers beneath my skin.
