I'm the Alpha's Crush

Chapter 7

Morning dawned bright and beautiful, and beneath the softly scented sheets, Malcolm wanted to die.

The thunderous bass drumbeat in his head threatened to shatter his skull to pieces.

But slowly, the subtle perfume that surrounded him caught his attention.

I know this scent...

Opening his eyes, Malcolm braved the stabbing agony of daylight to survey his surroundings.

Where am I?

The soft, muted blue of the walls complimented the delicate floral print of the sheets and the washed-out indigo hue of the quilt. Gauzy curtains hung over the windows, giving the room a bright, ethereal glow. A nightstand that almost matched the hardwood floor held a pile of books, an antique alarm clock and... aspirin?

Looking like a gift from the Goddess, a pair of small white pills stood next to a bottle of water and a note.

Sitting up, Malcolm placed the tablets on his tongue, washing them down with a long swallow of cool, fresh water.

Setting down the now empty bottle, Malcolm took the note, scanning the unfamiliar handwriting:

"The clothes on the dresser are for you – not sure if they'll fit, but they're the biggest I could find."

Wh-

It was then that he noticed how utterly naked he was.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck-

What happened last night?

The question echoed in his aching head, and in the pit of his gut, a sour certainty began to grow.

Standing, Malcolm fought the sudden rush of dizziness, walking toward the dresser to find a pair of lounge pants and a tank top.

As he held them up, he caught a fresh wave of that elusively familiar scent.

Bringing the pants to his nose, he closed his eyes and sniffed.

And froze.

Oh no. No, no, no, no...

Looking toward the door, he knew exactly where he was and exactly whose bed he'd woken up in.

Please... please tell me I didn't...

But he couldn't remember what he had or hadn't done.

With dread overwhelming his senses, Malcolm pulled on the mercifully stretchy pants and top, grabbing a knitted throw blanket off of the bed to wrap around himself and hide the more... form-fitting areas.

Please, he prayed, squeezing his eyes shut, please, don't let me have done something unforgiveable...

With his hand on the doorknob, he took a breath and twisted it open.

Outside, a short hallway led on the left into a coffee-scented living room. A small breakfast bar separated it from the kitchen, where a pajama-clad Sophie Bennett was buttering a slice of toast.

"Oh, hey, I thought I heard you moving around."

At a loss for words, Malcolm slowly made his way to the bar and sat.

"So, how are you feeling? Can I get you some coffee? Toast?"

"Please." He croaked past a suddenly dry throat.

Turning, she opened a cupboard and took down a ceramic mug sporting a pastel teddy-bear. As she poured, Malcolm rallied his courage to ask, "Did..."

"'Did' what?"