Accidental Surrogate for Alpha

Chapter 48

Ella

“Come in.” Sinclair’s voice sounds even deeper than usual, and I’m wondering if l’m imagining it. I waited as long as I could bear before coming to his rooms after finding some relief for all the pent up s3xual tension he’s created in me. Still, I don’t feel nearly satisfied. My s3x is still swollen and pulsing with need, and I’m terrified that he’ll somehow be able to tell how erotically charged l am.

The larger problem, however, is that I’m exhausted.

I’m desperate for some rest, especially after missing my usual afternoon nap amidst the preparations for the festival. As the pregnancy progresses I can’t help but think how ironic it is that the closer I come to bringing a baby into the world, the more childlike I seem to become: overly sensitive, constantly exhausted, picky about food, sick half the time and struggling with bladder control.

Last week I cried because I ate all of my snack and didn’t have any left! And now this.. I can’t sleep by myself. l’m grumpy because I didn’t get tucked in by Sinclair, and couldn’t fall asleep without him next to me. So I’ve abandoned my pride and now l’m actually going to him so l can beg to crawl into his huge, comfy bed with him.

I poke my head inside, and fight back a whimper. His bedside lamp is on, and he’s propped up on his elbows, looking expectantly in my direction with the same dark intensity he always reserves for me. He’s shirtless, his chiseled abs glowing in the lamplight, and his dark hair is tousled effortlessly. There’s a swath of scruff over his powerful jaw, and his green eyes are almost glowing in the dim light. It’s not fair for anyone to look that good, especially not when I’m already squeezing my legs together just to relieve the ache he planted with his k!ss.

“Are you still up?” I ask inanely, apparently forgetting that he’s clearly awake and staring right at me.

“l am.” The corner of Sinclair’s mouth curves up, and I’m reminded of how soft and firm his lips had been on mine. “ls everything okay?”

I slip the rest of the way inside, leaning back against the door until it clicks shut and staring at the ground. “I can’t sleep.” I confess, wrapping my arms protectively around my body.

Sinclair sits up a little straighter, frowning with apparent concern. “l can give you a supplement.” He offers. “The doctor left some herbal remedies in case you needed them.”

My heart sinks. “No, I don’t want to take something that’s going to leave me groggy all day tomorrow.”I reason, actually impressed with my ability to improvise an excuse so quickly.

me they wouldn’t

coming forward, moving

anything like that. I might have a bad reaction.” I

want that.” Sinclair murmurs, closing the final distance between us. “Why can’t you sleep? Are you stressed? You look a bit flushed.” He’s stroking my cheek now, and for the first time I have the sense that he might be wise

more frustrated by the second. Why doesn’t he just scoop me up and take me to bed the way

you told him you wanted to sleep alone and that you weren’t interested in

head snipes, sounding even more bitter than I

it conscience has gotten more and more vocal since l became pregnant, and she’s really not all that helpful

some ambient sounds.” Sinclair muses,

shake my head pitifully,

in suggesting all the wrong solutions. Third, if I want to sleep with him, I’m going to have to come out and ask for

tell me what l can do to

urge to stomp on his big giant foot and only holding back because l remember how much it hurt the first time. My next thought is to turn my lips toward his palm and take a chomp out of him. It’s incredibly tempting,

cheek. “Don’t even think about it.” He warns, his rich voice full of foreboding – but also amusement, as

bite him even more than ever, but I’m afraid that if I do he won’t let

easily, finally gathering me in his arms bridal style. I snuggle in and lean my cheek against

why, but I feel compelled to make an excuse for myself as he transfers me to the king-sized bed. “Thank you, I think the pup has a

before I can even think about moving out of reach – not that running away would do me any good. His brow

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