THE ALPHA'S DEADLY ADDICTION

Chapter 10: Afterhours

Angel’s pov

The library stacks were a maze on the third floor. Endless rows of dusty books about economics and business theory that nobody ever checked out. I'd been here plenty of times. Knew the layout.

I grabbed the books I needed to return from my bag, scanning the call numbers, trying to focus on anything except the sound of his footsteps behind me.

Except... I didn't hear footsteps.

I slowed, glancing over my shoulder.

The aisle was empty.

I exhaled, some of the tension draining from my shoulders.

He'd given up. Good. That was good. That was what I—

A hand shot out from a darkened doorway and grabbed my wrist.

I gasped as I was yanked sideways, stumbling into one of the private study rooms tucked between the stacks.

The door shut behind us with a soft click.

Darkness.

Then Jason's hand found the light switch, and dim amber light flooded the tiny room.

It was barely ten feet square—soundproof walls, blackout shades on the narrow window, a desk and two chairs. The kind of place where students came to cram for exams without distractions.

The kind of place where secrets stayed secret.

"Let go of me." I yanked my wrist from his grip, backing away until I hit the desk.

He stood between me and the door, his expression unreadable.

"You've been avoiding me all day," he said quietly.

"I've been busy."

"Bullshit."

"Excuse me?"

"You saw me on the quad and ran."

Heat flooded my face. "I didn't run. I left. There's a difference."

"Angel—"

"And even if I was avoiding you, so what? We're not—" I struggled to find the right word. "We're not anything. What happened at the club was a mistake."

His jaw tightened. "A mistake."

"Yes."

"Is that really what you think?"

“It’s what I know.” I crossed my arms, trying to ignore how small the room felt with him in it. How his presence seemed to take up all the oxygen. "You're exactly what I thought you were, Jason. This doesn't surprise me."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I saw you today!" The words burst out before I could stop them. "With her. With Gianna. Your arm around her waist like—like—"

Understanding dawned in his eyes. "You're jealous."

"I am not—"

"You are." He took a step closer. "You saw me with her and it pissed you off."

"Why would I be jealous of your girlfriend?"

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Could've fooled me."

"Angel." Another step. "If you would just let me explain—"

"Explain what? That you're a player who can't keep it in his pants? That you probably have girls throwing themselves at you every day and I was just another notch on your—"

"Stop."

"—or maybe you get off on slumming it. Is that it? The rich boy gets a thrill from f*****g the poor stripper—"

"I said stop." His voice cracked like a whip.

I flinched.

We stared at each other, both breathing hard.

"It's not like that," he said, his voice rough. "It's never been like that with you."

"Then what is it like, Jason? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you moved on pretty f*****g fast."

"Gianna is a decoy."

I blinked. "A what?"

"A decoy. To protect you."

The fight drained out of me slightly. "What?"

"Someone saw my car. They think I picked up a girl in the Scarlet district. I want to control the narrative before the rumours start to spread. If people see me with Gianna, they’d assume she’s the mystery girl. She’s not exactly clueless. She knows what she’s getting into and she’s getting something out of it.”

I remained quiet.

“It won’t be a long arrangement. Just enough to give them something else to talk about." He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I'm trying to protect you, Angel. Keep your name out of it."

I wanted to believe him.

God, I wanted to.

But Sasha's words echoed in my head. They prey on the weak. On ones nobody will miss.

"It doesn't matter," I said, my voice breaking slightly. "It doesn't change anything."

"What do you mean it doesn't change anything?"

"I mean this—us—whatever this is—it's done."

The words hung heavy in the air between us.

Jason went very still. "What?"

"We're over. Before we even started. It's better this way."

"Better for who?"

"For both of us. You go back to your life, I go back to mine. Clean break."

"No."

"Jason—"

"I said no." He moved so fast I barely saw it, closing the distance between us, his hands slamming down on the desk on either side of me, caging me in. "We're not over."

"Yes, we are." I tried to sound firm, but my voice shook. "This is done."

"It's not f*****g done." His eyes were wild, desperate. "We're never going to be over. Not ever. Do you understand me?"

"You don't own me—"

"Over my dead body, Angel. You're not walking away from me. I won't let you."

"You can't just—"

He kissed me.

Rough. Bruising. Desperate.

His hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back, and I gasped against his mouth. He took advantage, his tongue sweeping in, claiming, devouring.

I should've pushed him away.

Should've stayed angry.

Instead, I kissed him back just as hard, just as desperate, my hands fisting in his shirt and pulling him closer.

It was brutal. A battle fought with lips and teeth and tongue.

I bit his lower lip hard enough to make him groan, and he responded by wrapping his hand around my throat—not squeezing, just holding, a promise of possession that made heat flood between my thighs.

"You're mine," he growled against my mouth. "Say it."

"f**k you."

"Say it, Angel."

I yanked his hair instead, pulling his head back so I could glare at him. "I'm not yours. I'm not anyone's."

His eyes flashed with something dark and possessive. "Liar."

He kissed me again, and this time there was fear beneath the anger.

I could feel it in the way his hands trembled slightly as they moved over my body. In the way he kept whispering "no, no, no" between kisses like a prayer.

Like he was trying to convince himself I wasn't really leaving.

"You're not leaving me," he breathed, his forehead pressed against mine, his hands shaking as they cupped my face. "I'm not letting you leave."

"Jason—"

"I can't—" His voice cracked. "I can't lose you. Not now. Not after—"

I saw it then. Real fear in his eyes.

Terror.

The golden retriever mask had shattered completely, revealing the desperate, possessive thing underneath.

And God help me, it made me want him more.

"You're insane," I whispered.

"For you? Yes." His hands moved to my hips, lifting me onto the desk in one smooth motion. "Completely f*****g insane."

Books scattered. My bag hit the floor.

Jason stepped between my thighs, his hands already working at the button of my jeans.

"What are you doing?" I gasped.

"Reminding you." He yanked my jeans down, taking my underwear with them. "Reminding you exactly who you belong to."

"I don't belong to—oh."

He dropped to his knees.

"Jason—"

"Quiet." His hands gripped my thighs, spreading them wider. "You wanted to leave? f*****g fine. But first, I'm going to make you come so hard you forget your own name."

"That's not—"

His mouth found me, and all thoughts scattered.

Oh God.

He wasn't gentle. Wasn't careful. His tongue was hot and demanding, licking through my folds with the kind of single-minded focus that made my brain short-circuit.

I gasped, my hands flying to his hair, not sure if I wanted to pull him closer or push him away.

He decided for me, hooking my legs over his shoulders and devouring me.

"f**k," I whimpered, my head falling back. "f**k, Jason—"

He groaned against me, the vibration sending sparks up my spine.

His tongue circled my c**t, teasing, before sucking it into his mouth.

My hips bucked involuntarily.

"That's it," he murmured, his breath hot against my sensitive flesh. "Give me everything, Angel. I want it all."

He slid two fingers inside me, curling them just right, and I nearly came off the desk.

"Jason—"

"So f*****g wet for me." His voice was reverent, awed. "God, you taste perfect."

He worked me with his mouth and fingers, relentless, pushing me higher and higher until I was shaking, gasping, my thighs trembling around his head.

"I can't—" I tried to push him away. "It's too much—"

"You can take it." He added a third finger, stretching me, filling me. "Come for me, baby. I want to feel you fall apart."

The o****m hit like a freight train.

I cried out, my back arching, my hands fisted so tight in his hair it had to hurt. But Jason didn't stop. He worked me through it, drawing out every tremor, every aftershock, until I was sobbing his name and trying to close my legs against the oversensitivity.

"Please," I whimpered. "I can't—no more—"

"One more." His tongue flicked against my c**t again. "Give me one more, Angel."

"I can't—"

"Yes, you can."

He sucked hard, his fingers curling inside me, hitting that spot that made me see stars.

The second o****m crashed over me before I was ready for it.

I came with a broken sob, my whole body shaking, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes as pleasure rolled through me in devastating waves.

Jason finally pulled back, his lips and chin glistening, his eyes dark with satisfaction.

"Beautiful," he murmured, pressing a kiss to my inner thigh. "So f*****g beautiful when you come for me."

I couldn't speak. Could barely breathe.

My entire body was boneless, spent, trembling with aftershocks.

Jason stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and the casual intimacy of the gesture made something in my chest clench.

He helped me off the desk, steadying me when my legs threatened to give out, pulling my jeans back up with gentle hands.

Then he cupped my face, forcing me to meet his eyes.

"We're not over," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "You can run. You can avoid me. You can try to convince yourself this doesn't mean anything. But we are not over, Angel. Not by a long f*****g shot."

I stared at him, my heart pounding, my body still singing from what he'd just done to me.

"You're not getting rid of me," he continued, his thumb brushing over my kiss-swollen lips. "I won't let you. Do you understand?"

I should've argued. Should've pushed back.

Instead, I just nodded.

He pressed one more kiss to my forehead—soft, reverent, completely at odds with what had just happened—and then he was gone.

The door clicked shut behind him.

I stood alone in the study room, my legs shaking, my mind reeling, the taste of him still on my lips.

And despite everything—despite Sasha's warnings, despite the danger, despite my better judgment—I couldn't bring myself to regret a single second.