Obsessed With My Alpha

One Step Forward Two Steps Back

Gema's POV

“Tell me you want this, Jonah,” I whisper, my voice thick with need as I look into his eyes, searching for the answer I want to hear. “Tell me that being here with me is where you should’ve been from the start.” My heart races as I slide onto his lap, straddling him, feeling the way our bodies align perfectly, like we were made to fit together. His hands grip my hips, and I arch into him, pressing close enough to feel every inch of him against me. He lets out a low, sexy groan as I trail kisses down his neck, his breathing growing heavier with each touch, each taste of his skin.

I feel his body tense beneath me, the way he’s slowly unraveling, inch by inch, and it only makes me bolder, more daring. My lips explore his jaw, his collarbone, and I feel him harden against me, a reminder of the maddening barrier of fabric between us. Just as I reach to slip his boxers down, desperate to close that final gap between us, there’s an insistent buzz, a sound pulling me from this moment, tugging at the edges of my dream.

And then, reality crashes in.

I blink, dazed, still caught in the lingering haze of the dream, my heart pounding in frustration and longing. I sit up in Jonah’s bed, realizing it was only a dream, just a vivid, painfully realistic fantasy that left me aching with disappointment. The sound was his alarm, not the pulsing desire I’d felt in my dream.

“Wake up, Gema,” Jonah says, his voice still thick with sleep as he stretches beside me, completely oblivious to the thoughts swirling through my head. “I’m late for class, and you need to sneak out before my big brother catches you in here,” he teases, giving me that lopsided grin as he hops out of bed and heads to the bathroom.

I sit there, watching him disappear into the shower, the sound of water hitting the tiles filling the room, grounding me back to the reality I tried so hard to escape. I let out a sigh, frustration swirling in my chest. It was just a dream, just another reminder of everything I can’t have, and of the line that’s always been there, separating me from him.

I’m still his friend. I’m still a virgin. And no matter what I might feel or want, I’m still just the girl who’s always been by his side.

I take a deep breath, shaking off the remnants of the dream and trying to calm the flush that’s spread across my face. It’s ridiculous, really, how real it all felt—the way he held me, his hands on my body, the feeling of belonging. But as much as I want to get lost in the fantasy, I know I have to pull myself together.

After a few minutes, Jonah steps out of the bathroom, a towel slung around his waist, his hair damp and tousled. He glances at me with that casual, easy grin, like this is any other morning, like he has no idea what thoughts are racing through my mind.

“You’re still here?” he teases, grabbing a clean shirt from his drawer. “Didn’t think you’d actually want to hang around with the place so messy.” He throws on the shirt, flashing me a smirk, clearly unaware of how close I am to combusting from all these pent-up feelings.

“Yeah, well,” I say, rolling my eyes to cover the way my pulse quickens just looking at him, “you’re lucky I don’t mind a little chaos.” I throw the covers off and slip out of bed, reaching for my things and trying to shake off the feeling of that dream still lingering in the back of my mind.

As I slip on my shoes, I spot something on the floor near the closet—a small, faded shoebox. I remember that box. It’s where he keeps all the random souvenirs and knick-knacks he’s collected over the years. I’d always found it sweet how he saved things that most people would toss away, like an old movie ticket or a crumpled photo from a road trip. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I crouch down, lifting the lid and peering inside.

Inside, there’s a stack of polaroids from that summer we spent at the beach, some old mix tapes we made for each other in high school, and even a small bracelet I’d made him ages ago, woven from bits of fabric with tiny knots I’d tied myself. I remember giving it to him as a joke, saying it was his “official friendship bracelet.” I’m surprised he still has it.

“Find something interesting?” Jonah’s voice breaks into my thoughts, and I glance up, caught off guard. He’s standing over me, watching me with a curious smile, his eyes softer than usual.

I swallow, holding up the bracelet. “You still have this?” I ask, half-laughing. “I thought you would’ve thrown it out by now.”

He shrugs, looking a little embarrassed as he scratches the back of his neck. “Nah, it’s important,” he says, his voice softening. “It’s, like, one of the first things you ever gave me. Guess I’m just sentimental.”

A warmth spreads through my chest, and I can’t help but smile. “Sentimental, huh? Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

He grins, rolling his eyes as he reaches for the bracelet, slipping it out of my hand. “Don’t get used to it,” he says, but there’s a hint of something else in his voice, something deeper. He looks at the bracelet for a moment, then slips it into his pocket, as if to keep it close.

We share a quiet look, one that lingers longer than it should, and for a second, I feel like he sees me, like he actually sees me, not just as his friend or his buddy, but as someone who’s been there, who’s always been there. It’s a moment that’s small, almost unnoticeable, but it means something. It’s something I didn’t even know I needed.

“Anyway,” I say, breaking the silence and brushing the hair back from my face, trying to mask the way my heart is racing. “I should head out before your brother decides to do a room check or something.”

Jonah laughs, nodding. “Yeah, he’d freak if he saw you in here.” He grabs his keys and walks me to the door, and just before I step out, he stops, his hand resting on my shoulder.

“Hey, Gems,” he says, his voice softer, almost hesitant. “You know you mean a lot to me, right? Just… wanted you to know that.”

The words hang in the air, filling the space between us with an unexpected weight. I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat, and manage a small smile. “I know, Jonah. I know.”

Jonah's POV

Sitting alone in my room, I feel a weight settle over me that’s become all too familiar. It’s this gnawing fear, the kind that only seems to grow stronger since last night, since I held Gema close. Being with her, having her so near, it scares me to death because I know that if I let myself go there, if I actually let myself feel the things I’m starting to feel, I could fall for her. And falling is the one thing I promised myself I’d never do.

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve known that love is dangerous. My father made sure of that. From as early as I can remember, he drilled it into me: love is a weakness. It’s a flaw that can ruin even the strongest man. And I saw it for myself when I was just seven years old. My mother loved my father with everything she had, but he never completed the bond with her. He always kept himself closed off, refused to be vulnerable, never let anyone—even her—be his weakness. I watched as she grew hollow, her light dimming until there was nothing left, and eventually… she ended it. Right there, in front of me.

That was the day I learned what love could do to you. That was the day I decided I’d never let anyone get close enough to hurt me like that.

Since then, I’ve kept my heart locked up, avoided anything that even came close to real feelings. I respect my father, and part of me wants to believe he was right—that keeping yourself closed off is the only way to stay safe. But there’s another part of me that hates it, that knows deep down I don’t want to end up like him. But respect for him and what he’s taught me has kept me in line, kept me from questioning it. I’ve lived by his rules, built my life around the idea that if I stay detached, I’ll never have to feel the kind of pain that broke my mother.

And then there’s Gema.

She’s the one person who makes me feel like I can’t keep up the act anymore, like maybe all these defenses I’ve built don’t mean anything. Every time I’m with her, it feels like a piece of me I thought I’d buried is coming back to life. She sees me in a way no one else does, and when I’m with her, I feel whole. I feel like maybe, just maybe, I could be more than this guarded shell I’ve become. But that possibility terrifies me. Because if I fall for her, if I let her in, I know there’s no going back. And if fate or some cruel twist rips her away from me, I know it’ll destroy me in ways I’ll never recover from.

Worse still, I’m terrified I’ll turn into my father, pushing her away to protect myself, hiding from the risk because it feels safer. I’m scared that I’ll fall, and then I’ll find my fated mate, or something else will rip us apart. And then, I’ll be left with nothing but regret. I don’t want to hurt her, but I also don’t know how to love her without losing myself.

But somehow, without even realizing it, Gema’s already slipping through the cracks. She’s healing me in ways I didn’t think were possible, slowly putting me back together without even trying. And every time we’re together, it feels like she’s pulling me closer to something I’ve tried my whole life to avoid—real love. The kind that could make me feel whole but could also break me completely.

And that’s the worst part. I know that if I keep letting her in, I won’t be able to stop myself from falling. I’ll love her with everything I have, and there’ll be no turning back. And as much as that scares me, the thought of not having her at all scares me even more.