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Chapter 176: Missing out
Chapter 175
Ciel
Nolan is stressed from work.
He’s been working overtime since the internet went down two days ago. I swear his hair is turning gray. He comes home late, eats dinner in silence, and falls asleep on the couch before he can make it to bed. I’ve started leaving blankets for him.
On the contrary, Jack is in an oddly good mood.
He hums in the shower. He plays with Lanny for hours. He kisses me like he’s won something and doesn’t want to brag about it.
And me? Probably because my heat is coming soon. I’m so, so horny. And anxious.
The horny part is new. Or not new, exactly, but different. Before, heat meant fear. It meant loss of control. It meant my body betraying me, responding to alphas I didn’t choose, didn’t want, didn’t love.
Now?
Now I catch myself staring at Jack’s hands. At Nolan’s shoulders. At the way they move, the way they breathe, the way they exist in my space.
I want them.
Both of them.
At the same time.
Which is why I’m looking at Jack walking into the shower like an animal in heat.
The door clicks shut behind him. I hear the water start—the faint hiss of the spray, the muffled sound of movement.
Nolan is passed out on the bed. He’s probably exhausted,work has been draining him, and the last two days have been hell. His chest rises and falls slowly, one arm draped over his eyes, his lips slightly parted.
I walk toward him first. Just to check. Just to make sure he’s breathing.
He is.
I press a soft kiss to his forehead. He doesn’t stir.
Then I stalk my way to the bathroom.
I get in. The fancy, huge bathroom is full of steam,curling up toward the ceiling, fogging the mirrors, making everything soft and hazy.
I throw my clothes into the basket by the corner. The fabric lands softly. My skin is already prickling—from the heat, from the anticipation, from the knowledge of what I’m about to do.
Then I walk into the shower.
The water is hot. It slicks my hair to my face, runs down my chest, pools at my feet. The glass door clicks shut behind me.
I wrap my arms around his waist and press my head against his naked back. The water runs over both of us, warm and steady.
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t show any reaction. Just stands there, letting me hold him.
"I could have been an assassin," I say.
"Then it would be my honor to die in your arms."
"Don’t resign yourself to death. You’re supposed to want a long life. For Lanny."
"Hmmmnn." His chest rumbles under my cheek.
"I suppose you’d have a plan B. Since you’d be killing me." He pauses. "And I’d probably deserve it."
I roll my eyes and slide my hands up his chest. Seriously—him and Nollie spend way too much time in the gym. His muscles are solid under my palms, warm from the water, impossibly defined.
I squeeze his chest.
He flexes.
Show off.
I keep groping his chest.
"Sunshine, did you come in for a shower or for some other nefarious plans?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Maybe because your pheromones have me surrounded."
I smile against his back. "Oh really?"
I slide my hands lower, over his ribs, his stomach. The muscles jump under my palms.
"What are my pheromones telling you, hmm? Mr. Alpha?"
He turns. Slowly. Deliberately. His hands find my waist, and he backs me against the tile wall.
The hot water flows from his face onto my chest. He’s so tall and huge—well, every alpha is large to me, but Jack more than most. His body blocks out the light, surrounds me, cages me in.
And I don’t feel anxiety.
Only excitement.
When I’m around Jack, I don’t... hate being an omega.
I love being one.
I love being his omega.
His hands slide up my sides, leaving trails of heat. His thumbs brush my ribs, my chest, my collarbones.
"Look at you," he murmurs.
His hand slides up my chest, brushes past my nipples, and slides lower, to my stomach. His fingers trace along the long-since-healed stitches from Lanny on my skin.
"I’m trying to have a sexy moment, not sentimental, Jack."
He doesn’t stop tracing it. His thumb follows the curve of the scar, gentle, almost reverent.
"This is sexy," he says.
"It’s a scar."
"It’s proof of—"
I cover his mouth with my hand and glare at him.
"I came here on a mission. So don’t you dare go down that sentimental path."
He looks amused. His eyes crinkle at the corners.
He kisses my palm.
My stomach flips.
"Understood?" I ask.
He nods against my hand. I can feel his smile.
His eyes twinkle brightly.
"Now, I ask again—what are my pheromones telling you, Mr. Alpha?" I ask again.
And he’s no longer amused.
His smile fades. His eyes darken. The shift is immediate,like a door closing, like a mask slipping into place, like the playful Jack disappearing.
I’m enveloped in the scent of lavender, like I’ve fallen into a field of them, surrounded by batches and batches of this scent.
My legs lose their strength. I almost collapse, but he holds me by my waist, fingers digging into my hips, keeping me upright against the tile.
"What type of alpha would I be if I couldn’t read you, sunshine?" He tilts my jaw up with his fingers.
"What’s more expressive than your pheromones is your face."
Then he slides his hands down to my thighs and lifts me. My back presses against the tile. My legs wrap around his waist.
The water cascades over us both, hot and steady, steam curling around our bodies. His hands are firm on my thighs, fingers pressing into my skin, holding me exactly where he wants me.
He kisses me, and I sigh in relief.
Nolan surely is missing out.