Page 13 of Broken Ice
He leaned away, stripped his undershirt, and cuddled in again.
That was all Beau had needed. Skin-on-skin. The steady sound of another heartbeat. The scent of this Alpha in his nose.
Time trickled by. Beau wiggled closer. Closer. Without the pain shutting down all avenues in his body, he was starting to get hot in a very particular way.
Beau opened his mouth. The scent gland he was smushed against was pumping out pheromones, just for him. He lapped at it, slow and wet, panting as the scent filled his mouth.
“Beau.”
Beau hummed. He was busy. He used the flat of his tongue, his teeth, sucking desperately.
“Beau. Fuck, hey—you need to stop, okay?”
Hands pushed him away. He blinked, head hazy. “Huh? What am I doing?”
Torres’s face swam into focus. He wassopretty, long, dark eyelashes and silky-looking hair. “The…licking. You’ve gotta stop that.”
Reality hit Beau like a Mack truck. “Oh.” His cheeks heated, stomach dropping. “Oh, my God.”
“It’s fine,” Torres assured.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s seriously fine.”
Beau was going to die. “Do you want to leave?”
“No. I just can’t…you’re in heat. It’s too much.” Right. That made sense. Torres wasn’t here for him—he was here for the Omega in heat, no matter how disgusting he smelt.
“Right. I can try and rein my scent in? I don’t know if that works during a heat.”
“It’s not about that.”
“But if it’s too gross,” Beau reasoned. He’d been teammates with one Alpha in Juniors who’d smelt absolutely rank, especially after a rut, and it had been borderline unbearable.
“Beau. You don’t smell bad to me.”
“Well, that’s just not true.” Beau hadevidence. Some of it was on film, even.
Torres sighed. “Have you ever considered that maybe your perspective isn’t always right?”
“Uh…no?”
Torres stared at him.
“I mean, occasionally I may get one or two things slightly wrong,” Beau conceded magnanimously.
“This is one of those occasions.”
“So…I really don’t smell that bad to you?” Beau clarified.
Torres looked like he was sucking on sour candy. “No.”
“Ah.” Well, then, there was only logical question left. “So…do you wanna fuck me?”
If Torres’s eyes had the ability to pop right out of his skull, they would have done so. “What?”
“I mean, if you don’t think I smell gross, and I don’t think you smell gross…and I’m in heat…”
