Westbridge Mates

I had a plan. A perfect, neurotic, five-year plan. Then on my first day of college, I slammed face-first into the star quarterback. The one they call the "King of Campus." His blue eyes took one look at me and turned black with possession. Now my plan is in flames, and this huge, growling alpha is telling me my new schedule involves moving into his apartment, meeting his family, and letting him put his mark on my neck. He says I'm his fated mate. His omega. His forever. My brain is screaming no, but my body? It's already surrendered.

I'm the RA. He's the resident I'm about to write up for the third time this week. My life is a series of checklists and rules. As the Resident Advisor, my job is to maintain order. His job, apparently, is to be the chaos magnet in 3B, blasting music at all hours and driving me insane. But when I march to his door to finally lay down the law, he opens it shirtless, tattooed, and smirking. And then his scent hits me. Thunderstorms. Ink. And something primal that screams mine.