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His fingertips trail down my crack, soft and gentle, a cursory check to make sure there’s no sand left. He lightly taps my hole with the pad of his finger. I gasp and clench around nothing, feeling agonizingly empty. He hums lowly and pops off my cock.

“Did my best friend touch you here?”

I nod slowly. “Are you mad?”

His eyes flare. “I’m jealous. Very, very jealous. But no, I’m not mad.”

He rises to his feet and shuts off the shower. “Come on.” He opens a towel for me to step into and dries me quickly while water drips down his naked body. Then he dries off with the same towel.

He holds the bundled towel against his face, and inhales. “You smell so fucking good, fuck.” He tosses the towel aside and looks at me with open hunger, then scoops me into his arms and kisses me as he carries me out of the bathroom.

Saliva fills my mouth. Flames engulf my body. I want his knot now. A cramp rumbles through me, sharp and unexpected. I flinch in his arms with a whimper.

“Poor little omega,” he says and lowers me onto the bed.

I assess the stack of linen on the end of the bed, trying to decide where to start, but it’s so overwhelming. I’m starting to feel hot and dizzy again. Another cramp begins to build. This is worse than on the beach. I can’t think. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Can I help?”

“No. I’m supposed to do it,” I snap.

Instead of yielding, he steps closer until his thighs touch the mattress. “The only thing an omega is supposed to do is what their alpha tells them to do.”

Some of my anxiety passes. “Sorry.”

He cups my chin. “Stop apologizing.”

I lean in, drawn to his lips, and he kisses me, short and sweet. He fluffs a pillow at the center of the headboard, then pats the bed. “Sit here.”

When I comply, he stuffs another pillow behind my head so everything is soft around me.

“Stay.”

Another cramp begins as he crosses to the small fridge and grabs a bag of frozen berries.

He takes a bowl from the neat stack of dishes on the side table, then pours the berries into it. “I don’t think we have time to make a smoothie, so you can snack on these while you tell me where you want things.” He plunks a spoon into the bowl and passes it to me.

“But the nest⁠—”

He steals a frozen raspberry from my bowl, sucks on it, then kisses me, sneaking it into my mouth, cold and refreshing, and tasting of him. “Eat.”

I do.

“Good omega.” He reaches past me and pulls open a drawer on my side of the bed.

“What’s that?”

“Blanket fort clips.” He opens the box and squeezes one between his fingers, so it chomps like an alligator.

“Was that on the heat plan?” I laugh, and pop a tiny pomegranate aril in my mouth.

“Yes, it was on the plan for just such a case.” He picks up the silky sheet. “Where do you want it?”

I coach him into draping it and another blanket over the top of the canopy to form the walls of our nest like a tent, passing him clips when he needs them.

“How do you usually build your nests?” he asks.

“I don’t.”