4

Samirah’s POV

"What do you mean they are all fully booked?" I pressed my palms against the counter of the University Housing Office, staring at the administrative officer in sheer disbelief. "The system showed five vacant lodges just two days ago."

The lady, a beta, offered a sympathetic apology. "I am terribly sorry, Professor Alvarez. A sudden block reservation came through from the board of trustees this morning. There is absolutely nothing available."

My inner wolf was a tiny inch away from jumping out.

I was frustrated to the teeth.

"Right. Of course." I forced a tight smile, spun on my heel, and walked out before I could lose my dignity.

Once inside my car, my composure shattered. I slammed my forehead against the steering wheel, letting out a ragged sigh, fighting back my tears. "I know life isn't a bloody bed of roses, but how much worse can this get?"

I drove home in a bleak fog. Stepping inside my flat, I kicked my heels into the corner, flung my handbag onto the couch, and stripped out of my work clothes on my way to the bathroom. A hot shower was the only thing that could stop me from losing my mind.

Ten minutes later, I stepped out, a white towel knotted tightly around my chest. I made a bee-line for the kitchen to brew a desperately needed cup of coffee.

I stepped into the living room—and froze.

A giant of a man was standing right by my hallway. He was broad-shouldered, carrying a tool box, with a thick, well-groomed beard, striking eyebrows, and a dark baseball cap casting a shadow over his fierce tigerlike eyes.

"Ah!" I shrieked in absolute terror.

The sheer shock made my muscles violently contract. The knot of my towel slipped. Before I could stop it, the towel pooled at my feet, leaving me entirely exposed.

"Oh, bloody hell! F-forgive me!" the man stammered, instantly snapping his eyes up to the ceiling, his face flushing red.

I gasped, snatched the towel up, and wrapped it securely back around my chest, my heart drumming. "Who the hell are you?! How did you get into my flat?!"

"I’m John! The plumber!" he said quickly, still refusing to look down. "I am so sorry, miss. I arrived a few minutes ago. The front door was completely unlatched, and I’d received the urgent notice you put out on the local directory. I knocked, but when no one answered, I thought... I thought I should step in to..."

I closed my eyes, mortified. "Shit. Forgive my language. I... I just wasn't expecting anyone to respond to the advert so quickly."

"It's fine. I didn't see anything, I swear," John mumbled.

He was lying to be polite, and we both knew it. The atmosphere in the room instantly felt incredibly weird.

"Right," I cleared my throat, pointing a trembling finger toward the corridor. "This way, please. The kitchen sink is leaking."

I led the way, acutely aware of his boots thudding against the floor behind me. Inside the kitchen, I pointed to the cabinet beneath the sink. "That's the issue. I'll be in my bedroom. Just knock twice when you're finished."

"Excuse me, miss?" John called out as I turned to leave. "Do you mind if I grab a glass of water first? It was a bit of a trek getting here."

My instincts told me it was a terrible idea, but my heart was racing too fast to think straight. "Of course."

I reached up to fetch a glass from the drying rack. My hands were shaking so much that the glass slipped right through my fingers.

"Watch out," John grunted.

In a split second, he stepped into my space. His large, calloused hand shot out, catching the glass perfectly in mid-air. In the process, his massive chest brushed against my bare shoulder. I caught a sudden wave of his scent—a devastatingly masculine blend of expensive woodsmoke.

"Sorry," he rumbled, his deep masculine voice dropping an octave as he looked down at me.

"Thank you," I squeaked, squirming away from his touch immediately. I gestured toward the corner. "Help yourself to the water dispenser."

John set the glass down on the counter. Then, he reached for the zip of his coverall. He slid it down his torso, stripping the top half off and tying the sleeves tightly around his waist. Underneath, he was wearing nothing but a tight white singlet. The fabric did absolutely nothing to hide his massive, contracting muscles and ridiculously broad shoulders.

He poured the water and began to drink. I stood there, momentarily paralyzed, watching his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. It made my own throat feel incredibly dry.

"Anything else you need?" I managed to ask.

"Nothing for now, miss."

"Right. I’ll be in my room."

I practically bolted down the hallway, threw my bedroom door shut, and turned the padlock with an immediate click.

Hyperventilating and panicking, I dialed Nancy's number. She picked up on the second ring. "Nancy! There is a bloody serial killer in my house!"

Nancy shrieked down the line. "What?! How? Where are you? Have you called the Silver ridge  pack police?!"

"No! Listen to me," I whispered fiercely, pressing my back against the locked door. "I put out a local notice for a plumber, and this insanely hot, hyper-masculine guy just turned up at my doorstep. Nancy, he is way too sophisticated to be a plumber."

Nancy let out a massive, irritated sigh over the phone. "Oh, bloody hell, Samirah. Don't be so classist. Plumbing is honest work. You are completely mental for scaring me like that over absolutely nothing! Actually, scratch that. I know exactly what is wrong with you."

"What?" I snapped.

"You are experiencing the highly volatile, overstimulating effects of LSS," Nancy giggled wickedly. "Lack of Sex Syndrome. If the plumber bloke is really that gorgeous, stop complaining and go fuck him."

"You have completely lost your mind!" I yelled, instantly slamming the phone down to end the call.

My heart was racing a million miles a second. I double-checked the padlock on my door, vowing to myself that I wouldn't step a single inch out of this room until he left.

But bloody hell... the man was spectacular. I absolutely hated the sudden, hot, exciting feeling pooling deeply between my legs.