Chapter 6

I should have felt cheap standing there in nothing but his coat.

But the way his gaze turned darker, the way his mouth curved into that I-know-what-you’re-thinking smirk—it sent a thrill straight through me.

"Looking for something?" His voice was smooth, teasing, but there was a promise underneath it.

I didn’t answer. Just brushed past him, my shoulder barely grazing his chest, but even that tiny touch sent a jolt through me. His scent—warm, woodsy, all man—wrapped around me, making it hard to think. I took a few steps before turning, my fingers going to the coat’s belt.

The air between us got heavy.

"Already undressing?" His voice dropped, rough around the edges. "I like a woman who gets to the point."

My fingers hesitated—just for a second—but I held his stare. "Who says I want anything from you?"

He laughed, low and knowing, and hell if it didn’t curl heat low in my stomach. "Don’t you?"

Then he was right there, one arm locking around my waist, yanking me against him. His skin was hot under my hands, his body solid. And God, the way he felt—the electricity, the pull—it was impossible to ignore.

His eyes flickered, something unreadable passing through them. "Zoe," he murmured, like he was tasting the name. "Pretty."

I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, his fingers traced up my spine, lighting every nerve on fire. I’d come here to forget. But pressed against him, I realized—I wasn’t here to erase John’s touch.

I was here to replace it.

I tilted my chin up, daring him. His grip tightened, like he was holding back. The tension between us was a live wire, buzzing, ready to snap—

Then his phone rang.

The sound cut through the room like a knife. His jaw clenched, frustration flashing across his face before he let me go, the cold air hitting my skin where he’d been.

"One second," he growled, stepping back.

I swallowed hard, watching as he turned to pick up his phone, his muscles tensing as he read the caller ID.

I casually glanced at his phone screen, pretending it was no big deal, but I was shocked when I saw who the message was from!

Alyssa.

John’s fiancée.

Shock slammed into me. My stomach twisted. First, she stole my boyfriend. Now she was calling Xavier? How many men did this woman need?

“Hey, everything all right?” Xavier’s voice was calm, concerned even.

I stood frozen, torn between walking away to give him privacy or staying to eavesdrop. I wanted to hear this.

"Not coming back," he said firmly, eyes flicking to me. "Got something important to handle."

I frowned. He talked like they were close.

"Yeah, I know. Work stuff." He hung up and tossed his phone aside.

As I was lost in thought, my eyes raked his body shamelessly. His chiseled face like carved by the angels. His dark hair, the perfect opposite of his fair skin and gray eyes. His broad shoulders. I couldn’t help but imagine digging my nails into them as he made me reach my climax, screaming his name.

Subconsciously, I looked at his neck. For some reason, I was relieved beyond measure to see that there was no mark on it. Which meant that he was not mated and didn’t have anyone waiting for him back home. 

There were a lot of things I could tolerate in a man, but I drew the line at cheating.

Cheating was what caused me and Johnt to break up. That thought brought me to reality where Xavier was talking to John’s fiance like he cared for her and knew her for a long time.

“Okay, see you.” He hung up after that and tossed his phone to the couch.

Refocusing his attention on me, he smirked seeing that I was still there. But stopped as he saw the confused look on my face and undertood that I had seen the caller ID on his phone and it was the person on whose engagement party we had met for the first time.

He didn’t need to know that the one she had gotten engaged to was my ex.

“Sorry, that was my sister. She was looking for me.” Xavier spoke up, trying to clear the air before I could get upset.

“Sister? Alyssa is Alyssa Shaw?” I asked, my voice shaky. I couldn’t believe it.

He raised an eyebrow. "Problem?"

Before I could process, his hands were on my waist, pulling me in. His lips hovered dangerously close. I panicked, shoving weakly at his chest.

"I can't—not now."

Confusion flashed across his face. Guilt twisted my gut, but I wasn't ready.

Then he said something that made my stomach drop. “Are you only used to sleeping with John?”

I froze. He knew. He knew about John, about my past. I didn’t know how much he knew, but it didn’t matter. The fact that he brought it up felt like a slap in the face.

But why he looked a bit sad and disappointed? I had no idea why he had that expression.

He stepped closer, his eyes dark and intense. For a second, I thought he might kiss me anyway. Part of me wanted him to. But the other part—the part that was still raw from everything with John—pulled back.

I couldn’t do this. Not with him. Not now.

 I felt the need to make sure that he knew that John had never bothered to sleep with me even when a week before his engagement I had deliberately tried for it to happen.

“We have broken up. And to clarify, we never-”

“Do I look like I care?” He stepped closer to me. My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t realize why my heart was reacting to his closeness like this. I had just broken up from a very long-term relationship very badly. I could never catch feelings for a stranger so soon. It wasn’t me.

If he knew everything, why wasn't he running for the hills? Why was I the one panicking?

My pulse pounded. I wanted him—but my brain short-circuited. Too much. Too fast.

"Let's just...not do this." I turned to leave.

My phone buzzed. Against my better judgment, I looked.

'Where are you, my little omega?' - John

Perfect timing, asshole.