Eve

Margo tilted her head, eyes dancing. “Don’t worry. I eventually found my headphones.”

I gulped, throat dry, mortified heat crawling up my neck.

She stood, stretching gracefully, and brushed past me toward the kitchen. “Though between you and me,” she added in a conspiratorial murmur, “the man’s got stamina. You’re a very lucky omega.”

I stood frozen in the foyer long after she’d gone, cheeks burning, praying the floor would finally open up and end my suffering.

It didn’t.

With a mortified groan, I fled to the car and sped off into the rest of my day, cheeks still burning.

I prayed Ellen hadn’t heard anything—she’d left for her...