Testing Waters
847 Words
Sasha
I stood before the mirror, makeup brush hovering over my cheek, frozen in indecision.
My reflection looked foreign. Tired eyes shadowed with bruises from sleepless nights. Lips bitten raw from nervous habits. Hair that refused to cooperate no matter how many times I dragged the brush through it.
A girl pretending to be whole.
Would people whisper when they saw me?
Of course they would.
The rejected mate. The girl who wasn't good enough. The one whose fated bond had been severed because she was too damaged, too quiet, too much of everything wrong and not enough of anything right.
The Alpha's stepdaughter. The most popular charity case.
I set the brush down with a shaking hand, exhaling slowly through my nose.
“You have to go eventually,” I told myself, trying to summon courage I didn't fee, “You can't hide in this house forever.”
But god, I wanted to.
I wanted to pull the covers over my head and disappear. Wanted to never face another pitying look or cruel whisper. Wanted to erase the past few weeks and go back to when I was just invisible instead of infamous.
But that wasn't an option.
Everyone in the pack knew about my rejection and now I was the new laughing stock of the pack.
So I finished my makeup with trembling hands, threw on jeans and a sweater that covered as much skin as possible, and headed downstairs already planning my escape route.
Grab something quick. Avoid conversation. Get out before—
"Eat something before you go."
Fuck.
My feet stopped moving. My heart stuttered.
Jaxon stood at the kitchen counter, tablet in hand, reading something with that focused intensity he brought to everything. Sleeves rolled to expose those strong forearms, veiny hands gripping that tablet, hands that I'd been fantasizing about touching me...teasing me and--
Fuck.
It was just morning…
And he already looked too good to be true.
He didn't look up, but I knew he was aware of me. Knew he'd tracked my entrance the moment I'd stepped into the room.
Alphas like him always knew.
"I'm not hungry," I said.
"That wasn't a question." His voice was calm. Final. The tone that said he'd already decided and my input was irrelevant.
I hesitated, caught between fleeing and obeying.
The obedience won.
It always won with him.
I moved toward the counter, intending to grab an apple and bolt. Something small. Something I could eat in the car. Something that would satisfy his command without requiring me to sit across from him and pretend everything was normal.
Pretend I hadn't touched myself screaming his name.
Pretend he hadn't told me to be quieter next time.
Pretend…I didn’t want him to f**k my brains out.
I reached for the apple at the same moment he set down his tablet.
Our hands collided.
Skin against skin.
Something shot through...
Like electricity.
It began from shooting up my arm, sharp and sudden and devastating before it spread through my whole body. A shock that went straight to my core and made my p***y clench.
I gasped. Jerked back instinctively.
Too fast. Too clumsy.
My hip hit the counter edge. I lost my balance, arms windmilling as gravity claimed me.
His arm shot out, catching me around the waist before I could fall.
Suddenly we were pressed together.
His body solid and warm and impossibly hard against mine. His arm like iron around my waist, pulling me closer instead of steadying me. His other hand coming up to brace against my hip.
Everywhere he touched burned.
Our eyes locked.
Dark hazel swallowing me whole. Close enough to see the gold flecks near his pupils. Close enough to see the way they dilated as he held me. Close enough to count his eyelashes if I wanted to.
Close enough to kiss.
His gaze dropped to my mouth.
Lingered there.
I felt him lean in—just slightly, barely perceptible, testing the space between us.
My lips parted on instinct.
My breath came in short and shallow gasp.
His grip on my waist tightened, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks. Hard enough to pull me even closer until I could feel every ridge of muscle against my body. Our chests pressed together now--as he held me there close to him.
And god...
I could feel him.
God, I could feel him hard against my hip.
His c**k, thick and long, pressing insistently through his pants.
He wanted me.
He wanted me and he was right here, body against mine, eyes looking at me as if he was hungry.
But then--
He cleared his throat sharply.
The sound shattered the moment.
He released me abruptly, stepping back so fast I nearly stumbled again.
Put distance between us like touching me burned.
"Be careful," he said, his voice rougher than usual. Strained.
He wouldn't meet my eyes.
Just turned and walked out of the kitchen, his shoulders rigid with tension, leaving me breathless and confused and aching.
I grabbed the apple with shaking hands and fled.
- Writer
