Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 87

Eileen

I woke to the amber light of dusk filtering through the curtains, and the first thing I became aware of was warmth—not just the warmth of blankets, but the solid heat of the body wrapped around mine from behind. Regis lay behind me in a position I’d first learned about from a book I wasn’t supposed to read as a kid. So this was spooning.

His arm draped possessively across my waist, palm splayed protectively over my lower belly as though even in sleep, he needed to confirm that both the baby and I remained within his reach. His breathing was steady and deep, each exhale ghosting across the nape of my neck and sending involuntary shivers down my spine.

I tried to shift slightly, just to relieve the numbness creeping into my arm, but his response was immediate and instinctive—the arm around me tightened, drawing me more firmly against his chest and eliminating any remaining space between us.

That was when I felt it, the unmistakable pressure against my backside that made my breath catch in my throat: his penis, half-hard and twitching slightly with each of his breaths.

Heat flooded my face so fiercely I thought I might combust. Despite everything we’d just done—God, all those things—I was still mortified. Flashes hit me: his mouth between my thighs, eyes dark with hunger and reverence, my own helpless sounds spilling out. How could I have been so bold? So forward? When had I become that woman, the one who took what she wanted without apology?

Through our bond came his contentment—deep, animal, yet tender. Even in sleep, he guarded me as if I were precious. The realization tightened my chest with an emotion I couldn’t name, one that made me want to cry and never leave this cocoon of safety.

The doorbell rang, shattering the moment.

The sharp chime cut through the quiet room like a blade. I froze, and Regis's breathing pattern shifted immediately—he was awake. His arm tightened once more, then I heard him sigh softly against my neck, the sound carrying equal parts reluctance and resigned amusement.

"Someone's at the door," he murmured, his voice still rough with sleep in a way that made my spine tingle.

"I know," I whispered, inexplicably feeling that I shouldn't move, shouldn't break this fragile bubble of intimacy.

The doorbell rang again, more insistently this time. Regis stirred behind me, and I felt him press a gentle kiss to the curve where my neck met my shoulder. "Stay here and rest," he said quietly, "I'll see who it is."

When he released me, I felt the loss acutely, an emptiness that made me want to reach back and pull him close again. I resisted, watching as he sat up and began pulling on clothes with hasty movements, his shirt buttons only half-done, collar gaping open to reveal the expanse of chest and the skin I had been kissing just hours ago. As he headed for the door, something sharp and unfamiliar surged through me—a possessive impulse so strong it startled me with its intensity.

I didn't want anyone else to see him like this.

The thought arrived unbidden and fierce, taking me completely off guard. His rumpled appearance, the sleep-heavy eyes, the hair mussed by my fingers—these belonged only to me. What if there was a woman at the door...

What was I thinking? When had I become so... possessive?

Regis returned quickly, an amused glint in his usually composed eyes. "It's Mira," he announced, clearly entertained, "Your friend is very... persistent."

Mira. I bolted upright, the sheets falling away before I remembered my state of undress. "Oh no, oh no," I scrambled for clothing, panic rising, "I need to get dressed, I can't let her see me like this—"

"Easy, love," Regis was already at the wardrobe, efficiently retrieving a soft sweater and loose pants for me. "She can wait a few more minutes."

He helped me dress, an act intimate enough to bring fresh heat to my cheeks, but I didn't refuse. When I was finally presentable, he reached up to smooth my wild hair, his fingertips grazing my cheek with exquisite gentleness. "Beautiful," he said softly, looking at me as though I were something rare and precious.

I rose on tiptoes to kiss him quickly, then before stepping away, my hands moved automatically to his shirt, carefully fastening each loose button and straightening his collar. His eyebrows rose, the smile deepening on his lips, but he said nothing, merely stood still beneath my ministrations while those ice-blue eyes watched me with unmistakable warmth.

When we finally made it downstairs and opened the door, Mira practically flew inside. "Eileen!" She threw her arms around me with enough force to make me stumble, "I was so worried about you! You haven't answered any of my messages for a whole day!"

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice muffled against her shoulder, "I'm sorry, I just... a lot happened."

She pulled back to study my face, her sharp gaze sweeping over me, then Regis, then back to me. I caught the flash of understanding in her eyes, that gleam of curiosity she couldn't quite hide, but she only said gently, "You scared me. When I heard Vane教官 also took leave, and then you didn't reply to me... I thought something terrible happened."

"I'm fine," I assured her quickly, "Really, I'm fine now. I'm sorry I made you worry."

Regis cleared his throat behind me. "I'll get you both something to eat and drink," he said, his tone resuming that polite professional distance, "Please, make yourself comfortable."

He disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Mira and me facing each other. She immediately pulled me to the couch, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Okay, I need details. All the details. Starting with why you're back from your parents', looking like you just woke up from a very good nap."

My face burned. "Mira—"

"And why he's walking around with his shirt buttoned wrong when he opened the door," she continued, eyes dancing with mischief, "Not that I'm complaining about the view, but it's just so... unlike him. I've never seen Instructor Vane so domestic. So un-scary. It's weird."

I couldn't help laughing, the tension in my shoulders finally easing. "He's not scary," I defended softly.

"To you, maybe," Mira rolled her eyes, though her smile was genuine, "But seriously, Eileen, no wonder you haven't had time to check messages. If I had a mate like that..." she drew out the words suggestively, waggling her eyebrows.

My face probably could have fried an egg at this point. "Stop it," I protested weakly, though I couldn't suppress my smile.

Truthfully, hearing her tease like this sparked something strange in me—not quite embarrassment, more like... jealousy? No, not jealousy exactly. Possessiveness. I shouldn't have let Mira see him that way, disheveled and fresh from bed, those private moments that should belong only to me. This house was saturated with his scent, my scent, our scents intertwined in ways too intimate for others to witness.

But Mira was my best friend, not an outsider. How could I think such things about her?

I shook my head, trying to clear these confusing thoughts. "Do you want to go to the back garden?" I suggested suddenly, "There's a nice sunset view, and we can talk there."

Mira nodded eagerly. "Sure! I could use some fresh air anyway."