Page 22 of Examining the Bond

I grumble and close my eyes. Maybe that’s why she didn’t come back—because she sensed my pheromones and didn’t want to give me false hope. She must have every omega in the area clamoring to get her attention.

Why would she be interested in me, a broken girl with no designation, when she could have anyone she wants?

Not to mention how awkward I was. The most gorgeous alpha I’d ever seen in my life got to see me word vomit all over myself.

Hopefully, I can make up for that tomorrow.

I ignore the little voice in my mind whispering that today might have been the only time I’ll ever see her.

She’ll be there.

She has to be.

I’ll see her in the morning, and I can apologize for being so flustered and nervous. I can also tell her all about how I currently feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin and ask if it has to do with the injection they gave me…

Heat pools between my thighs, and I squirt a glob of body wash into my palm before setting the bottle aside. I know it’s not meant for hair, but I rub my hands together and bring my fingers to my scalp anyway, saturating the red strands in soap. I might regret it in the morning, but I want it covering every inch of me. I want to be dripping in Dr. Morales from head to toe, even if it's just an illusion. I want to fall asleep wrapped in her scent and lose myself to her in my dreams.

I massage away at the soap under the stream, groaning as suds slide over my chest. My libido is skyrocketing beneath the steady pour of hot water, a dizzying haze consuming my mind.

It’s not like I don’t get turned on. I have a few vibrators at the academy I use to get the job done, but the last time the urge was this strong was right before my heat.

I’m not worried about going into heat—the suppressants from the academy reduce them to a dull throb that doesn’t go away for a few days, but it’s tolerable. However, I’m pissed that I didn’t think to bring a toy in my overstuffed bag.

Though getting it through TSA might have been interesting.

I close my eyes as water beats against my throat and imagine how it would feel to have a certain alpha pressing her lips against my neck, affectionately dragging her teeth across my skin.

A shudder runs through me, and my pussy throbs as I think about what Dr. Morales could do to me. I’m not experienced by any means—I’ve only ever kissed my high school prom date, and it wasn’t serious… or impressive. But I know enough that as soon as my eyes close, the image of her smiling up at me from between my thighs hits me, and I shiver despite the hot shower.

Damn it.

I’ve got it bad.

It can’t be healthy to be this attracted to someone, but I can’t help it. Something about her calls to my soul, down to my very marrow where she’s tattooed herself. Her scent is like a drug, begging to bond with my DNA, but I know that can’t be right.

Scent matches are extremely rare, and despite the primal desire I have to be close to her, it doesn’tfeellike a scent match.

At least, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t.

But how would I know? I’m not even a real omega…

This morning I was freaking out about my designation and what will happen when the academy decides I’m not ‘omega’ enough to remain enrolled. Now, I’m worried that the memory of Dr. Morales will haunt me forever.

Stupid.I’m being so stupid.

I whine and lean my back against the shower wall, inhaling deeply to drink in the fresh pine scent filling the space as suds race down my skin and pool around my feet. I paint more body wash over my body, my hands roaming over my thighs, my stomach, my chest. My nipples harden to stiff peaks at the attention, and I close my eyes.

The sound of running water fades to white noise, and I slip into another daydream while my hands drift over my body, teasing trails over my skin. I think back to the exam room where Dr. Morales was standing in front of me, her clothes molded to her chiseled body. She was so close that all it would have taken was a bit of fucking confidence, and maybe I could have touched her.

Memories from the clinic quickly morph as Dr. Morales ditches her clipboard and steps closer, making my breath catch. I imagine her leaning in close, her scent swirling around me as she murmurs my name. Her eyes darken with lust, a teasing smirk curling her mouth.

“Riann,” she says, my skin pebbling with goosebumps at the sound of her voice. “You’re such a good little omega.”

Bubbles drip over my skin, falling from my hair and dancing ribbons around my body before disappearing down the drain. One of my hands sweeps along my collarbone to wipe away the last stray bit of suds, and I already know where it’s headed. Everything aches too much not to touch.

I swear my nipples have been hard from the moment I first saw Dr. Morales—it’s a miracle she didn’t notice what was going on with the rest of me. Now they’re aching beyond comprehension, desperate for attention.

I bite my lip like I need to hide my whimper over the loud hiss of the shower and the muffled sound of music coming from next door. Dipping my head, I watch the way my fingers trace the swell of my breast. My fingers, like my petite build, are textbook omega. Small and delicate. If you put me next to any other omega, no one would be able to tell the difference.