Page 39 of Written in Scent

The most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

Reality crashes back into her all at once.

Her cheeks flood with color so fast it reaches her ears. She makes a tiny, mortified sound and tries to close her legs, but I’m still nestled between them. She stares at me like she can’t believe what just happened. Like she can’t believe she just did that.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, voice small and shaky. “Jamie, I—I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to— I mean, I—”

She cuts herself off, clearly overwhelmed. Even in the middle of her embarrassment she is still the sweetest thing I have ever seen. I sit up slowly, giving her space but not leaving her completely. My jeans are a mess, the front soaked and clinging, but I don’t even try to hide it.

Before I can say anything she sits up too, tugging her tank top back into place with trembling fingers. Her gaze drops to my lap and her eyes go wide.

“You… you came,” she says, stunned. “Just from… from doing that to me?”

I can’t help the hushed laugh that escapes. I run a hand through my hair, probably making it worse, and give her the most honest smile I have ever worn.

“Yeah, Elodie. I did.” I gesture at the very obvious wet patch on my jeans. “You were perfect. The way you tasted, the way you sounded, the way you came all over my tongue… it was the best sexual experience of my entire life. Hands down. I didn’t even need to be inside you. You wrecked me.”

For one heartbeat she just stares. Then the most beautiful sound bubbles out of her—surprised laughter, startled and so genuinely her that my chest aches with it. She covers her face with both hands, peeking at me through her fingers, still giggling.

“You are ridiculous,” she mumbles, but there’s no heat in it. Just shy wonder.

She reaches for her discarded panties and quickly slips them back on, cheeks still flaming. Once they’re in place she smooths her skirt down and looks at me again, eyes soft but suddenly serious.

“That was… amazing,” she sighs. “But it will not happen again. You had better have a really good memory, Jamie Miller.”

The words land like a punch. I feel them settle somewhere behind my ribs, heavy and a little painful all at once.

She’s already pulling away emotionally, even while she’s still sitting on my bed in the middle of my room.

I want to argue. I want to tell her how wrong she is, how this was only the beginning, how the four of us would give her the whole world if she would let us. But I can see the walls going back up, the thoughtful, studious girl who came to university to focus on her books and nothing else.

So I just smile at her, a little sadly, and nod.

“I have a great memory,” I say. “Best night of my life. I will not be forgetting a single second.”

She gives me one last shy little smile, then slides off the bed and heads for the door like she can’t stay in this room another moment without changing her mind.

I follow her toward the door, heart still hammering from everything that just happened, but her words keep echoing in my head.

“Why won’t it happen again?” I ask, voice a little raw. I don’t want to push, but I have to know.

Elodie pauses with her hand on the doorknob. She turns back to me, cheeks still flushed from everything we just shared, but her eyes are clearer now. The shy, dreamy girl from the quad is back, the one who always has a notebook in her hand.

She bites her lip for a second, then speaks quietly but firmly.

“Because I told you guys from the beginning that I don’t want a pack,” she says. “I came to university to focus on my studies and my research. That’s what I need to pour everything into right now. I don’t have time for all the drama and politics that come with a pack. I just… I want to be myself. I need to be myself.”

The words land like another punch to the chest. I stand there dumbfounded, staring at her. Part of me wants to argue, to tell her how good we could be together, how the four of us would never take anything from her studies, how we would give her the world and still let her chase everything she wants. But I can see it in her face. She means every word. This isn’t a game or a test. This is Elodie drawing her line in the sand.

I swallow hard and nod, even though it feels like someone just stole the air from the room.

“OK,” I say, keeping my voice gentle. “I’m sorry for asking again. I hear you.”

She gives me one last small, apologetic smile and slips out of my room. I follow her downstairs without another word, my wet jeans sticking uncomfortably to my skin, my mind still spinning.

We reach the bottom of the stairs and Elodie walks straight into the living room like she has somewhere to be. The three of them are right where we left them. Alex stands by the couch with his arms crossed, Adrian perches on the arm of the chair, and Chase is leaning against the wall like he is trying to hold himself together through sheer willpower.

The moment she steps into the room all three of them straighten. Their eyes lock on her, and I watch the same stunned expression I am feeling flash across their faces.