by Aiden Bates
“Ahem,” a throat cleared over us. “Are you two nearly finished? The spin class needs the room.”
I opened my eyes and laughed as Mr. Man-bun loomed over us, a group of wide-eyed women staring at us as they crowded the door.
“Shit,” Kieran swore, laughing as I held on to his hips to move myself off of him. “Sorry—guess we got a little lost.”
“Just don’t let it happen again,” Mr. Man-bun said, huffing in annoyance as I steadied Kieran, helping him back up.
Our eyes met for a moment, and an explosion of laughter started to gather in my chest. I was barely able to keep it in as we hurried out the door—and then, in the hall of Kieran’s gym, we both lost it, laughing as the last few women staggered into the class, casting glances over their shoulders at us as they headed in.
7
Kieran
“Stop making that face,” I told him, watching the adorable way his lips curled back before he wiped them clean.
“What is this stuff?” He blanched, holding the glass up to the light and surveying its murky contents with disgust.
“Green smoothie. It’s good for you.” I sipped at my own, enjoying the bright, grassy taste mixed with the slight sweetness of mango and peach.
“Tastes like moss.” Nonetheless, he tipped another swallow of the smoothie into his mouth, clenching his teeth as he swallowed.
I licked my own lips, distracted by how well the action emphasized his jawline. He looked like a sculpture of some ancient general, stoically facing down an oncoming army. Outnumbered, but confident he could win anyway.
A little smile spread to his lips as he caught me staring.
“Yoga was fun,” he commented casually. “I think my muscles all hate me now, but at the end there…”
“Mm. Yeah, you were really getting into it.”
“Wonder why,” he countered, and I felt the heat rise in my chest at the memory of his cock pressing firm against my ass through our sweats.
He’d taken to it better than I’d expected. The grumbling, the complaints—those, I’d counted on. But I’d assumed taking someone who was so obviously accustomed to hitting it and quitting it to something as intimate as couples’ yoga would’ve thrown him for a loop. And yet, there he’d been. Suffering through it so admirably. Taking it all in stride.
“Don’t think your instructor likes me much though,” he added, eying his smoothie again before he pushed it away.
“Ha. Yeah, well, we did show up late. And Nico doesn’t like most people, to be fair.”
“Or he doesn’t like Alphas who partner with you for intimate stretching exercises.”
My smile turned coy. “I don’t imagine he does. Exes are like that, huh?”
Duncan sputtered, making me glad he hadn’t tempted fate with another swig of his drink. “You’ve already fucked him?”
“Oh, once or twice.” I swirled my smoothie around in my glass, watching the flecks of kale swim about in the emulsion of coconut milk and frozen fruit. “He’s not bad. A little selfish in bed, maybe, but that’s to be expected from anyone who’s got a man-bun.”
Duncan laughed. “All that stretching, and he still wasn’t able to give you a proper workout?”
“Oh, no. We’d both end up sweating by the end of it, but he was the only one who ended up satisfied.”
He scoffed. “Doesn’t sound like much of a lover, then.”
“And you’d do better?”
“Mm. I would.” His grin shifted into wolfishness. “There’s something exciting about watching someone else get all caught up in pleasure and knowing it’s because you’re giving it to them.”
“And here I was, believing the lie that Alphas don’t like giving head.”
Duncan shrugged. “Some don’t, I guess—but I’m not most Alphas.” His fingers twitched against the table, like they wanted to grab hold of something and give proof to his words. “Nothing like staring up at a gorgeous Omega with his cock in your mouth while his body shudders and his eyes roll back in his head.”
“I’ll drink to that.” I raised my glass to him, only to catch him staring at me with interest. “What?”
“You like going down on Alphas, then?”
I mimicked his shrug from earlier. “Alphas, Omegas…We don’t all fit in the nice little boxes that society expects us to slip into, you know.”
Duncan’s jaw shifted. I could practically see the gears turning behind the deep hazel of his eyes. “You’ve been with…other Omegas.”
I threw my head back, laughing as I realized I’d touched a nerve that Duncan might not have even realized he had. “Just a little experimenting. Nothing serious. I prefer Alphas, sure, but it’s all hot, chiseled men if you ignore the more…primal aspects of it, I guess.”
His eyes narrowed, glinting and focused. This time when he licked his lips, there wasn’t anything to lick away at. “The more I learn about you, the more interesting you become. You realize that, right?”
“Naturally. Why else are you here?”
Before Duncan could probe the matter any further, his phone buzzed in his pocket with a soft urgency.
“You going to get that?” I asked as he failed to reach for it.
“No. Why?”
“You don’t seem like the type that ignores your phone often,” I admitted. “Figured you Wall Street boys are practically glued to the things most of the time.”
“When I’m at work, I’m at work. But right now…No, I think I’d rather enjoy the moment. The text will still be there after we’re done.”
“Done with what?” I glanced down at his smoothie. “If you’re avoiding drinking that just to draw out the morning, I’m afraid your stalling tactic has an expiration date.”
“Ah, you’ve caught me.” He took another sip of his drink, no look of disgust on his face this time. “It’s not so bad, in a way.”
“And in another?”
“Oh, in another way, it’s easily the worst thing I’ve ever tasted in my entire life.”
His phone buzzed again, two more this time, and he scoffed apologetically.
“Let me put it on silent. I swear, I’m not the kind of asshole who spends the whole date texting and live-Tweeting the world updates.”
“You think this is a date?”
His eyes met mine as he dug into his pocket. “Isn’t it?”
“Yoga, green smoothies…” I hummed thoughtfully, weighing out the legitimacy of it. “I do this with friends all the time.”
As he glanced down at his phone, his eyes lit up with sudden intrigue. “In that case, what’re you doing next week? Text is from my boss. Wants to know if I’m free for cocktails. Says to bring a date.”
“Cocktails with your boss? Sounds a little serious for two friends.” I emphasized the word, half-teasing. I’d enjoyed doing yoga with Duncan in a way that was a hell of a lot more than friendly, but he didn’t need to know that.
“My point exactly. It won’t be anything too intense, just a few drinks at this speakeasy in the East Village.”
“Sounds expensive.”
“Good thing I’m paying, then.” He reached out, fingertips brushing against my knuckles so lightly that they left my skin tingling where he’d touched. “Come with me. I’d love a good chance to show you off.”
“Is that all I am to you? Arm candy?” I pulled my hand away gently, but my grin betrayed my amusement.
“Looking the way you do? Candy isn’t that far off. I’m lucky I don’t have a cavity already.”
“That’s because you haven’t put me in your mouth yet.”
A low growl rose from his throat, animalistic and raw. “Maybe we should fix that.”
“Mm. Or maybe you finish your drink and we swing back by my place so you can put your real clothes back on.”
“I’ll have to take these off first,” he warned me.
“I’m sure you’ll be able to manage.”
“But it would go so much faster if I had some help.”
I lo
oked away, cheeks aching as I suppressed a laugh. “I don’t think there would be anything quick about me helping you take your clothes off, Duncan.”
His hand shot out again, taking mine again. Properly, this time. He gave my fingers a squeeze, thumb running across my knuckles, catching each ridge beneath his touch. “Maybe quick isn’t the goal, then.”
“Like you’d last more than three minutes in my bed.”
“Did Nico?”
I sputtered as Duncan’s question pulled my short-lived tryst with my yoga instructor up from the depths of my past. “Do you want the honest answer?”
He turned my hand over in his, tracing the lines of my palm. “Always.”
I grinned. “Three minutes would’ve been generous.”
“Mm. Well, I do love a bar that’s been set so low I can waltz right over it.” His thumb stopped in the center of my palm, pressing down gently. A romantic kind of stigmata. “Come out for drinks with me. Meet my boss. Suffer through a pretentious cocktail menu. Let your hair down for a night.”
I pulled my hand away to run my fingers through my hair, the soft auburn waves cut short enough that letting it down wasn’t really an option. “This hair?”
He shrugged. “Or grow it out and put it up in a man-bun—whatever you like. But do it before next weekend. Come on…” He leaned back, grinning just enough that I could see how sharp his incisors were. “You know it’ll be fun.”
I leaned back too, staring at him with a reluctance that could feel myself desperate to break past. It did sound fun, getting drinks with a Wall Street Alpha like Duncan and his bougie Wall Street boss. And Christ—despite the fact that I knew my only job right now was to resist Duncan’s advances, he was looking a special kind of incredible in my workout clothes. All muscles and dark hair and wolfish smirks—for far from the first time, I had to admit that he was exactly my type.
“Okay,” I finally said, raising my hands like I was throwing my reservations up in the air and letting them scatter down like game show confetti. “You’ve won me over. Drinks with your boss, next weekend. I’m in. What do I wear?”
“Doesn’t matter.” He looked me up and down, scraping his teeth over his lower lip. “You won’t be wearing it long anyway.”
I couldn’t help it—I laughed. “Oh, you’re on. We’ll see about that.”
8
Duncan
Spending a week without any real contact with Kieran felt like losing time. I knew I only had a month to convince him to succumb to my wicked ways. Removing a whole week from that? It should have been agonizing. But as far as I was concerned, it was all necessary—entirely part of the plan.
Call me a romantic, but I believed it when they said that absence made the heart grow fonder. Apart from the occasional text—a picture of some incredibly ugly yoga pants I’d seen on a mannequin at Macy’s, green spandex covered in orange puffballs, or a man Kieran spotted in the East Village with not one, but three man-buns—we barely spoke at all.
And yet, when I slept, it barely felt like I was sleeping. When I dreamed, I could barely call them dreams at all. The world felt like it was skimming past me on the surface in a flurry of numbers I didn’t care about and phone calls to people I didn’t want to talk to—and through it all, there he was. Out of sight, but not out of mind. I found my ears pricking up to the sounds of words that even sounded similar to his name. Eating a salad for lunch one day only reminded me of the kale in those fucking smoothies he’d ordered for us. And with every buzz of my phone, I found my heart doing the most annoying little cartwheel, hoping that beneath the little envelope symbol that said someone was texting me, I’d find his name.
It was either obsession or, god forbid, love, and it was quickly reminding me why I didn’t normally invest myself in Omegas for any longer than one night at a time. I’d tried the dating scene in college and quickly realized that whatever feelings I felt weren’t likely to be reciprocated in kind. Hook-up culture was a bitch, and ever since the fumbling lovelorn nature of my freshman year, I’d determined to make it my bitch.
By the time I rolled up to Kieran’s apartment building to pick him up, it was finally hitting me that for the first time in a long time, I was in over my head. Hoisted with my own damn petard—this dangerous little game we were playing was pulling me just as much under his spell as I’d hoped I’d been ensnaring him in mine.
Delicious, exciting, and fucking embarrassing. I knew I’d have to watch myself tonight just as much as I wanted to watch him.
“You look good,” I commented, grabbing the passenger’s side door for him as he came down the steps from his building. “Don’t tell me you went out and bought new clothes just for me.”
“These old things?” He brushed non-existent lint off his immaculate charcoal t-shirt, only further emphasizing the way it hugged his perfect hips where he’d sloppily tucked it into a black pair of chinos. “Don’t flatter yourself, Duncan. Just pulled them out of the dirty laundry. Didn’t even bother showering.”
I smelled the lie as he slipped past me, though. His hair still smelled like his shampoo, and if my nose wasn’t deceiving me, he had new cologne on, too. If he’d pulled his outfit out of the dirty laundry, I’d pulled mine out of a fucking dumpster.
Very funny, Kieran. But two can play that game.
“I appreciate that,” I told him, closing his door and coming back around to the driver’s side. I smirked at him as I clicked my seatbelt into place. “I’ve been experimenting with just not wearing deodorant anymore. Just really letting that wild-man stank waft all over the place, you know.”
And never mind that in reality, I’d accidentally put it on twice getting ready that night.
“Ah. I did wonder what the smell was. Which reminds me—do you mind if I order some garlic bread when we get to this place? I’ve just been having the worst cravings for it—it’s all I’ve eaten all week, actually.”
“Only if you’ll split it with me.” I found myself still smirking as I pulled the car away from the curb and onto the road. “The place we’re going tonight, they’ve got this anchovy and olive cocktail that I’ve just been dying to try. Garlic bread would complement it perfectly.”
“Make it two, then. I was thinking after, we might go rummage around in the trash out back? See if they’ve got any leftovers we can bring home with us.”
“Oh, there won’t be any need for that. I already called ahead, asked if they minded just scraping the plates down after closing and bagging them up for us. They’re going to combine all the dregs from the other customers’ drinks and hand them off to me in a Thermos before we head out. Think of it as a nightcap.”
Finally, he laughed, retching slightly. “Okay, okay. I fold. Too far, you win. That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve heard all week.”
“Not as disgusting as the way I’m going to be all over you in front of my boss tonight.” I winked at him as we pulled up to a traffic light. “Sounds like his date has mysteriously canceled on him.”
“On your boss? Don’t you work for Don Sterling?”
I raised an eyebrow. “You’ve heard of him?”
He shrugged. “A couple of your coworkers are engaged to a couple of mine, remember? Word travels. He’s a good-looking guy. Can’t imagine anyone skipping out on him at such short notice like that.”
I laughed. “I’ve got some theories. When I told him I was bringing a bona fide Angel from Heaven’s Ballroom, he got the strangest look in his eye. Told me a few hours later that we’d be a trio tonight instead of a quartet. Maybe he was afraid his Omega for the evening wouldn’t measure up.”
“Or maybe he just wanted me for himself,” Kieran teased.
Unexpectedly, something dark in my chest snarled protectively. I gritted my teeth, swallowing it back down. Jealousy was unbecoming—almost as unbecoming as the idea of my playboy boss making a play for Kieran right under my nose was.
“Good thing you haven’t showered, then,” I teased back, recovering just in time.
>
Kieran leaned back in his seat, smiling a smug smile. Christ—he knew he’d gotten to me. “Good thing indeed.”
The password at the bar was Icarus. As the heavy metal door scraped open, allowing us entry while another group made their way out, Kieran looped his arm around mine and tugged me close.
“Something wrong?” I asked, feeling the tension in his bicep as it pressed against mine.
“Not really, no,” Kieran said, leaning in even closer to talk to me as the speakeasy’s synthesized bass poured over us. “Just…is it weird that I think I just saw my boss leaving here?”
“From the Ballroom?” I looked around, searching for any telltale halos or angels wings and finding none. “Not weird, I don’t think. This is a popular place. Afraid that your boss might catch you with a customer from work or something?”
Rolling his eyes, Kieran laughed. “Hardly. I’m just worried someone I know might see me with a schmuck like you.”
“I’m sure your reputation will never recover.” I shifted to place my arm around him as I guided him to the bar for a drink. “What do you like?”
“Can I get a vodka martini? Dirty as you can make it.”
The bartender adjusted his top hat, arm muscles bulging from beneath his silk vest. “We’ve got an elderberry infused vodka and a habanero one. Sweet or spicy?”
“Spicy, por favor.” Kieran glanced at me, obviously judging the bar for their over-the-top artisan vodka selection. “Maybe that’ll stop you from wanting to put your dick in my mouth.”
The bartender snorted. “Judging by the look of you, buddy, I don’t think that’ll be much of a deterrent.”
“It’s not,” I agreed. “Make it two?”
