Pack Deception: Part One, page 16
When I finally got up to shower, the amount of slick coating my thighs and bed had me changing my sheets and opening the window, hoping for a breeze to dry the soaked mattress. My efforts may be in vain, but at least it works to vent what I'm sure are overwhelming pheromones coating my apartment. Ava is supposed to come over tonight, so I don't want her choking on my cloying scent. It's Friday; we're finally putting our dresses to good use tonight and going clubbing. I really thought about canceling since I'm so close to my heat and don't want to tempt fate—or an aggressive alpha—but then I remember the vacant look in her eyes and the stiff smile she has sported ever since our dinner and movie night last week at Pack Whitlock's house. She deserves a night of fun and distraction, and I won't be the one to stop her from getting it. I just pray my heat waits to make an appearance until after; when I'm alone.
Oh well, no point worrying about it now, I think as my two inch kitten heels click against the marbled foyer, I step into the elevator and press the fourth floor button for Pen2Paper Press. Once I'm at my desk and powering up my computer for the day, I get this niggling feeling in the back of my mind. I pull up Jerrick's calendar for the day, and I can feel the blood drain from my face a little as I stare at the lunch meeting he has set up with Dillan Doherty, which he invited me to...and Brooklyn. A little hit of my perfume sneaks out already at just the thought of being so close to her today. And with my boss across the table, no less. I've done a decent job of avoiding the whole pack this week.
After I exchanged numbers with them at my impromptu sleepover, they all text me throughout the week. Some of it was just to ask how my day was, other times it was them wanting to see me. But anytime they did, and I thought about being with them, slick would drip out of me, my core would throb, and I immediately made excuses as to why I couldn't. Goddess, did I want to though. I wanted to beg them to get me through my heat, but even after my date with Mason and my midnight rendezvous with Brooklyn's tongue, I don't feel right asking them to do that. Mostly because I couldn't bear it if they told me no. Some packs wait to go through a heat as a pack until they've found their mate. It can be considered a very intimate thing. Then there are others who go to heat clinics specifically for them; omegas because they don't want to suffer through without help, alphas and betas because they either chase the pleasure heats bring or they want to help unbonded omegas through them. Either way, the embarrassment I'd feel if Pack Whitlock turned me down kept me from seeing any of them this week. Even if I missed the heck out of them.
I lift my head at the sound of approaching footsteps; I see Jerrick walking toward me. Panicking a little, I think fast. So when he greets me with a chipper Good Morning, I stop him. "Hey, Jerrick."
He pokes his head back out of his office and then comes to stand next to my desk. "Yeah, Summer?"
"I've got a doctor's appointment today at noon. Shouldn't take long, but that means I can't come to lunch." I pout a little like this is such terrible news.
He frowns back. "Ah, well that's okay. There’ll be more lunches."
I smile and nod back, hoping this gets dropped quickly. At my noncommittal response, he walks back into his office.
Great, now I just have to make myself scarce for lunch. I'll probably hide out at the cafe down the street until it's safe to come back, like a total headcase.
"I'm late, I'm late. I know, I'm so sorry," Ava says, rushing toward me carrying two full bags worth of stuff, looking flustered as can be. Her cheeks are a little pink from—what I imagine is—her run the whole way here. One of her bags is slung across her shoulder and must weigh a ton because she keeps adjusting it as I usher her in the building. I had to come let her in since the main door is locked to everyone but residents.
I take one of her bags from her, for which she shoots me a grateful smile, and we take the elevator up to my apartment. There isn't a lot of room to get ready here, as is evidenced by me bumping into Ava several times as we set her bags down on my bed. I live closer to the bars she wants to hit tonight, though; or so she says. The truth is she's never invited me to her apartment, nor have I ever seen it. I don't take it personally though. She'll invite me over in her own time.
For now, we're stuck getting ready in my four-hundred square foot space. Ava pulls out her dress that she bought last time we were together. The pink sequins number. Then she plucks various makeup, brushes, hairspray, and a curling iron out of the heavy-looking bag. She marches over to my closet and opens the door, where I have a full length mirror attached to the inside of it. I watch on in amusement as she plugs in the curling iron to the wall next to the closet, saunters to the kitchen, grabs one of my two stools, and settles it down right in front of the mirror.
"Okay, take a seat. I'll start your hair, and you can do your makeup at the same time," she instructs, chest heaving a little like she's finally catching her breath.
"You aren't that late you know. We're going to be fine," I tease her. She's only a half an hour later than when we agreed to meet. I barely even noticed. I got home from work a little later than usual. After Jerrick's meeting with Brooklyn and Dillan, he had several meetings back to back that went long. I took notes for them, so I got out of there around five-thirty. That still gave me plenty of time to come back, shower, and have some dinner because Ava wasn't meant to meet me until seven. Thank the Goddess she was running behind, too, because I had another flare up in the shower. Thankfully, all my toys are waterproof, so I jumped out soaking wet to grab my trusty vibrator and gave myself about a dozen orgasms—thinking about Pack Whitlock the whole time, of course—before I was sated enough to get out of the shower. That put me a little behind schedule, but I had time to blowdry my almost waist length hair before Ava called to say she was around the corner.
"Not really. We have to get to this club early. It's new, and I've heard if you aren't there when it opens, you're waiting in line for hours to get in."
I draw the line at standing in line for fifteen minutes—max—for a club. "What time does it open?"
"Nine," she says, tapping the curling iron to make sure it's hot enough and then starts sectioning my hair. It might seem like we have plenty of time, but being a girl is definitely working against us right now. So I grab the concealer and get to work. The conversation is surface level as we get ready, and I can tell that whatever has been eating at her recently, it's still very much on her mind. I can also tell that she isn't ready to talk about it based on the way she quickly avoids eye contact when she catches me staring at her questioningly.
It's about ten past nine when I buckle the strap on my heel and stand up. Ava is standing in front of the mirror, adjusting her hair one last time. She looks hot, I can admit it. The dress is flashy and shows her long, lean legs. At five-foot-eight, her legs look like they go on for miles. Her silvery blonde hair is just a little shorter than mine, which she is wearing straight tonight with a little bit of glitter hairspray in it to make it shine when the light hits it. That and the bronzer she dusted across her bosom gives her an ethereal look.
She sets up the camera to take a few pictures of us, and I can admit I look good, too. Despite not feeling a hundred percent confident in the mini black bodycon dress that hugs my body like a second skin, I'm not going to wear the leather jacket I bought to help cover up. I'm going to be brave tonight. Though, I have had a little help...
"Let's do one more round before we go," I declare. The liquor we've already consumed has my body feeling warm and tingly, but my mind is still clear. One more should settle the rest of the nerves.
We choke down the tequila and head out the door. I lock my apartment and send up one final prayer before following Ava to the elevator:
Please, please let my heat not start tonight.
Twenty-Three
Summer
Music blares through the extensive surround sound. The bass sends vibrations through the space, and strobe lights flare through the dark warehouse-like club in an array of technicolor glory. There's a small bubble machine somewhere that is sending bubbles and foam around the space. It's an electrifying atmosphere, making me understand why there was already a line about forty people deep when we got here not too long after it opened.
The DJ switches songs to one that—by the cheers and screaming around me—is very clearly a crowd favorite. Everyone starts singing along to the lyrics and jumping up and down, pumping their fists, heads thrown back in joyful abandon. Ava and I look at each other. She grins and shrugs as I do the same, and we join in the fun. I grab her hands in mine, and we scream the lyrics at each other and jump around. I throw my head back and forth, unable to remember a time I felt so carefree, young, and happy. Halfway through the song, breathing is becoming too hard, so with a laugh, I stop jumping around and try to catch a breath. My cheeks are burning, and my throat is hoarse from all the fun.
I shake free from Ava's grasp. She meets my eyes as I mime getting a drink with my hand because it's too loud in this club for her to be able to hear me. Then I point to her in question to see if she wants one as well. She nods, and I take off toward the bar to get us each another cocktail. I'm not sure how long we've been out, but it has to have been several hours at least because this place is packed. I try shoving my way through the mass of writhing bodies, but it's not like I'm an imposing force. After shouldering my way through everyone, I finally make it to the bar, flag down a bartender, and order our drinks.
It's been easier than I thought, being out tonight. There are definitely no shortage of attractive people in here, but with so many of them, their scents are intermingled, overwhelming, and easy to ignore. I can't tell who each one is coming from and, frankly, none of them smell enticing anyways. Not when the smell of summer rain, sandalwood, citrus, or lavender have been plaguing me all week.
The bartender comes over with my drinks, and I turn back toward the crowd, balking at the idea of pushing my way through it without spilling them. Just as I'm about to say screw it, a warm body presses up against my back, enveloping me in a cloud of bourbon and citrusy heaven. An involuntary moan slips out of me, which Maverick takes as an invitation to step closer and wrap his arm around me, pressing me back into him.
His breath tickles my neck when he leans down to whisper in my ear. "You look like every man's wet dream, beautiful. The things I want to do to you right now would make a whore blush."
His voice is low and throaty, and I shiver at the promise in it. I lean back into him as a wave of lust sweeps over me, and his tongue darts out to lick at my neck before he gently bites down on my ear. Slick pours out of me, and my knees buckle, causing me to spill a little of our drinks.
"Shit," I hiss and extricate myself from Maverick's warm embrace. I can't go there right now. Of course he's here. Tonight was almost too easy. But I'm not lucky enough to stave off my heat, especially with him around so I need to keep my distance. His hand flexes on my stomach slightly as I move out of his grasp, like he's reluctant to let me go. I take a breath to compose myself before turning around to face him.
I have to hold my breath against the perfume threatening to escape from me and choke everyone within a five foot radius at how he looks. He's wearing a pair of black ripped jeans and a slightly loose fitting white button down shirt that is only buttoned halfway, showing of his gloriously tanned, muscled chest. A little bit of saliva gathers in my mouth at the need to bite and lick every inch of him. His sleeves are rolled up to just under his elbow, and I never knew how damn sexy forearms could be. But now all I'm thinking about is how they'd flex as he fucks his fingers into me at a rough, unrelenting pace.
Golden brown eyes are traveling up my body as Maverick looks his fill of the slinky black number I'm wearing. If I had any reservations or insecurities before, they're gone now at the molten look he's giving me. His gaze stops on the cleavage, and I see his knuckles turn white as he clenches his fists. I'm taking another pass at checking him out, but my eyes snag on the bulge in his jeans. It's straining against his pants in a way that I know has to be uncomfortable, but I don't have it in me to feel sorry for him because I'm distracted by all the things I want to do to help him relieve the ache.
Stop, Summer! It's the heat talking.
I try to remind myself by chanting the mantra over and over again in my head. But his husky chuckle has my eyes dragging up to his eyes again. "See something you like, sweets? I don't mind if you look, but only if you promise to touch, too."
I blush at his innuendo, despite the filthy thoughts rolling around in my head, and dart my eyes around us to make sure nobody else heard him. He's standing well within my personal space still, though; so with the music and noise from the crowd, it doesn't seem like anyone else was listening. But that's when I realize he's alone. Where's the rest of the pack?
Oh, Goddess. What if he's here with a date? Jealousy rears its ugly head as I picture some other girl wrapping her arm around him, grinding on him. I want to scream at the mental image of him smiling at someone else the way he's looking at me now, like he's undressing her with his eyes.
Mine.
A choked sound leaves my lips at the possessive thought. I have no idea where that came from. I may have been fantasizing about them all week, but it's not like they're my mates. I can't claim them, not with the three other marks on my body that practically tingle at the thought of me wanting someone else. Someone's else. It doesn't stop me from asking though. "Who are you here with?" I must sound as jealous as I feel because a giddy sort of look lights up Maverick's face.
"Come on, I'll introduce you," he grins, taking the drinks from me and pushing his way through the crowd, giving me no option but to follow him. Despite the rage roiling through me, I try to keep a smile plastered on my face, all the while wondering how he could think introducing me to his date isn't a big slap in the face. Not after canceling our date and flirting with me any chance he's gotten.
I'm also more than a little jealous at how easily he's pushing through this crowd. It distracts me enough that I don't realize he's walked us right to where I left Ava. Sure enough, he walks right up to her, hands her one of the drinks, and then turns around to hand me mine back before pulling me into his arms again. With my back to his chest, his arms circle me, and he leans down to talk in my ear. His voice is almost at a yell because the music is so much louder over here than it was near the bar.
"I think you've met my date before, beautiful." He takes me chin and turns my head a little until I see Hudson looking delicious in a pair of white washed jeans and a black v neck t-shirt. A relieved breath whooshes out of me, and I throw an elbow back to hit Maverick in his ribs when I feel laughter vibrating through him.
"Not funny," I grumble.
"Oh, sweets. As if I'd ever be happy with anyone but you." Even as he says it, his body locks up a little, and I know he's just thought about Mason. I frown but then feel him relax again and start swaying our bodies along to the music. Is that what is causing the riff between them? Is it me? Panic lances through me at the thought of being a homewrecker. With them all flirting with me, I just assumed they were all okay with it. But what if Mason doesn't want Maverick to see other people? What if Maverick doesn't want Mason to see other people? Are they using me as a tool to make the other jealous?
I'm spiraling, and I know it. But it's hard to stop, even surrounded by all the noise and excitement in here.
"You okay?" Ava asks, leaning close to me. With whatever she's going through right now, I don't want her worried about me, so I try to push all my troubles aside for tonight and vow to ask Maverick and Mason about it some other time. I plaster on a smile, nod, and start swaying to the music with a little more enthusiasm. She grins back at me and then gets swept aside when a handsome beta man asks her to dance with him. There's not really much room on the dance floor for more than a little bumping and grinding, but she says yes anyways.
I chuckle at the man who practically has hearts in his eyes as she grinds back against him. But then Hudson is in my space, pressing into my front and caging me between him and Maverick. He grabs my hips just below where Maverick's hands are resting. "You didn't want to invite us tonight? I'm hurt," Hudson all but whines in my ear.
"Sorry, girls night. But looks like you crashed the party anyways," I grin, not the slightest bit put off. "What are you guys doing here anyways?" I wonder aloud. Of all the bars in Chicago, what are the odds they end up here where Ava and I are?
I look up to see a weird emotion flicker through Hudson's eyes, almost like panic, but then Maverick answers me. "We wanted to check out the new bar everyone's been raving about. We had to stand in line for an hour." I laugh at the annoyed look on Hudson's face.
"What time is it?" I ask curiously.
"A little past eleven," Hudson says as he pushes his hips flush against mine and moves my body in time with his, Maverick following along effortlessly.
"Should have gotten here earlier," I gasp at the feel of Maverick's straining erection pushing into me.
"We almost didn't come at all. Mav was being a little bitch, but I dragged him out. I'm so glad I did, too." Hudson trails a finger along my collarbone, follows the flimsy strap of my dress, and down to my breast, where he brushes a finger along my nipple peeking through the thin material and makes my breath catch in my throat. I can feel a whine building up in my chest, but I choke it down.
I glance over to Ava to see her head is still thrown back, and her eyes are closed while she's dancing chest to chest now with her beta. Not paying attention to the way I'm melting under their touches.
"Aren't you glad we came out?" Hudson purrs seductively in my ear, brushing his finger across my nipple again.
"Yes," I choke out.
"You're so fucking gorgeous. This dress was made for you." This time his hand drops past my hip and his fingers tease the hemline of my dress. "It wouldn't take any effort at all to lift it up and finally get a taste of you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?" He inches the dress up infinitesimally.
