Page 33 of Bullied Pretend Mate
At some point, I end up dancing with Suzie, the two of us holding hands and laughing to a pop song from when wewere kids. She leans in, her lips practically on my ear when she whispers, “Don’t be scared of the mating marks. Dillon and I had to do it like ahundredtimes before it finally stuck.”
When she pulls back, she’s laughing and lighthearted, but my hand rises to my neck to where Felix’s mark is. I glance to the side when I realize he’s stopped dancing, and he’s staring at me.
Without speaking, we both know the truth.
We have to do another bite if we want to keep this convincing.
***
The air is tense with expectation when Felix and I get back to the hotel room. It’s so quiet, compared to the music in the ballroom, and we move quietly, as though we’re both putting it off as long as we can.
I take a shower, then brush my teeth, push my wet hair over my shoulder, and wring it out with a towel. When I come out of the bathroom, Felix is sitting on the end of the bed in a pair of sweatpants, his chest bare.
My mouth goes dry, and I try to look anywhere but directly at him.
“Hey,” he says, looking up at me, and I realize his pupils are practically swallowing his irises as he tracks my movement into the room. “Your soap smells good.”
“Thanks,” I laugh, rubbing my hand over my arm. In any other instance, I might tell him about the soap, the special apothecary, but right now my heart is beating loud enough that I can’t be my normal, influencing self.
“Are you okay?”
“What—yeah.” I clear my throat and shuffle closer to him. “I guess we should—”
“It’s probably time for us to—” he begins at the same time.
I’m silent for a moment. “Yeah.”
Last time, in order to easily reach his neck, I had to stand between his legs while he sat on the bed. Either he remembers that, or his positioning now is a coincidence.
I swallow, taking a step closer to him.
This isn’t a big deal, I remind myself.This is only to get the inheritance money.
“Is this okay?” I whisper, my voice so quiet, I can barely hear it. Felix must, though, because he nods, and his hair brushes against my shirt when he does.
Body buzzing, I reach out and take his jaw in my hands—warm, heavy, slightly fuzzy with stubble—and tilt it, exposing the side of his neck I want most.
The imprint of my teeth is fading already, the marks only slightly darker than his tanned skin. My mouth waters, and a rush of possessiveness rolls through me, spreading out to my fingertips.
This man belongs to me.
It’s an emotional voice. A biologically programmed voice. Something deep inside me is pushing me to think these things.
I don’t have to give any weight to that voice.
When my teeth sink into his skin, Felix sucks in a sharp breath, his hands going to my hips and gripping tight enough that stars implode in my vision. Or maybe the stars are from the feeling of my teeth on his skin.
Either way, my body starts to feel light, buzzing, like a sugar rush, but I know it’s coming from my contact with him.
He holds me to him, tugging me closer and closer, until I’m firmly between his legs and feel his length pressing into my stomach.
I should step back, my logical voice tells me.Get some space.
But I don’t. Instead, breathing in his scent like it’s laughing gas from an oxygen mask, I lean into him, my core starting to throb at the thought of what he might feel like inside me.
An alpha, knotting in me. The kind of touch I could never experience with the betas I hooked up with in Los Angeles.
I gasp at the thought of that, and his hands skim up my sides, grazing the sides of my breasts, held loosely by a bra I only ever wear to bed. I gasp again, and Felix growls, the sound low and primal, his hips rolling up against me.
