Page 15 of Alpha's Touch
Yet as he moved through his nightly routine, washing his face and brushing his teeth in the cramped bathroom, he couldn’t stop replaying moments from the evening. The solid warmth of Zeppelin’s back against his chest during the motorcycle ride, the way his eyes had lingered on Preston’s photo, how he’d seemed to fill every space he occupied.
Preston collapsed onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Tomorrow, he promised himself he would establish some boundaries. Keep things professional. Not get swept up in whatever this was.
But as sleep pulled him under, his last thought was of honey-brown eyes and the strange, inexplicable feeling that he’d found something he didn’t even know he was looking for.
Chapter Five
The minute Zeppelin pulled into Pinecrest parking lot, his phone lit up with Vaughn’s name across the screen. There was no way the wolf needed something from him. Not when Zeppelin had just left thirty minutes ago. He killed the engine, jerked the phone off the holder, and pressed answer. “What?”
“Somebody’s got a bee in his bonnet.” Vaughn didn’t miss a beat. “Just calling because I’m sitting at a certain diner and my alpha stood me up like a ditched prom date.”
Shit. Zeppelin had completely forgotten about his breakfast with Vaughn. “I’ll make it up to you. Got something I need to do.”
Vaughn chuckled. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with your boo, would it?”
A smile split across Zeppelin’s face just thinking about Preston. The guy was downright adorable in the best clumsy way. “Shut up.”
“Fine, but since you left me hanging like this, I’m putting my breakfast on your tab,” he said. “And you know how much I eat.”
“Have at it, princess,” Zeppelin teased with a chuckle, knowing Vaughn was far from a princess. “Now leave me alone.”
“Tell Preston I said what’s up.” Vaughn hung up.
His pack was a pain in the ass at times, but they were his, and Zeppelin would lay down his life for them.
Grabbing the two coffees and the bag of cinnamon rolls out of his saddlebag, he headed toward the entrance. Lucky, someone was exiting the building, so Zeppelin caught the door and slipped in without needing his access key. Taking the stairs two at a time, he made it the second floor.
With his hands full, Zeppelin used his elbow to knock. It took several times before his mate finally answered. When he opened the door, Zeppelin grinned. His mate’s hair was sticking up in all directions, his eyes barely open. He grunted, turned around, and zombie-walked away.
Damn if his mate wasn’t temptation on two legs, especially in those boxers. Zeppelin’s gaze zeroed in on the curve of Preston’s ass, amused by the sleepy shuffling.
Zeppelin followed, carefully balancing the bag and coffees as he stepped into the apartment. Morning light filtered through thin curtains, casting the small space in a soft glow. Preston had already disappeared, so Zeppelin moved down the short hallway, the floorboards creaking beneath his boots.
In the bedroom, Preston face-planted onto the unmade bed, yanking covers over himself like a protective cocoon.
After setting the coffee and bag on the dresser, Zeppelin crouched beside the bed. The mattress sagged under his weight as he leaned in close. The scent of sleep-warm skin and cotton sheets filled his nostrils.
“Preston,” he whispered, tapping a finger against the tip of his mate’s nose.
A muffled grunt came from the blanket cocoon, followed by a hand blindly swatting in his general direction. The gesture reminded him of a kitten batting at an annoying toy.
“Morning, sunshine,” Zeppelin whispered, tapping his nose again.
This time Preston burrowed completely under the covers, becoming nothing more than a human-shaped lump beneath the blankets.
Zeppelin chuckled and gently tugged at the edge of the blanket. “Come on, I know you’re in there.”
One green eye appeared in the small gap, bleary and unfocused, before immediately closing again. Zeppelin chuckled, enjoying this sleepy, unguarded version of his mate.
“Come on, sleeping beauty. Wake up,” he coaxed, his voice low and teasing. “I come bearing gifts. Hot coffee and something sweet.”
“S’too early.”
After several more minutes of Zeppelin’s gentle prodding, whispered promises of caffeine, and the occasional playful tug at the blanket, Preston finally sat up. His eyes remained stubbornly closed, hair still defying gravity in multiple directions.
It was the most beautiful sight Zeppelin had ever seen.
The oversized T-shirt Preston wore hung off one shoulder, revealing a constellation of freckles Zeppelin was dying to trace with his tongue.
