I grinned. “I know, but I wanted tonight to be special. I even got some fancy wine.” Jillian had chosen a sweet red, which was currently on ice. When it came to alcohol, I trusted her judgment. She knew what I liked. We’d only been drinking together since we were legal. “I hope you like Italian food.”
“It smells amazing,” he admitted. “Really, Brin, this is wonderful.”
Our plates sat heaping with spaghetti and meatballs, with a robust garlic and mushroom sauce that, admittedly, I’d poured out of a can. I’d doctored it up to taste, though, and I’d even made some garlic bread. Sitting there across from Oliver, it felt kind of amazing.
I poured two glasses of wine in the finest china I owned—Solo cups—and raised a toast. “To us,” I said, tapping my cup against his. A broad smile stretched across his face as he nodded, then we both took a drink. Mmm, sweet and fruity. Jillian always knew exactly what to buy.
The candles on the table flickered and danced, lighting our way from one conversation to the next. With Oliver, it didn’t matter what we talked about. It could be about the kids at daycare, or about his coworkers’ lunchroom hi-jinx. So long as he was talking, I was happy. His voice was pure and rich, thrumming with a gentle prowess. I could totally fall asleep to him reading me a book.
“You know,” Oliver murmured between sips of red wine. He raised a brow with a teasing smile. “Usually it’s the Alpha whocomes up with these elaborately romantic schemes to woo their Omega into bed.”
“Oh?” The word squeaked past my wall of nerves, but I blushed all the same. “Well, what’s wrong if it’s the other way around?”
He chuckled. “Baby, if you wanted me in your bed, all you had to do was ask. I don’t need wined and dined. We could’ve vegged out on pizza rolls and cola, for all I care. The only thing that matters to me is spending time with you.” He drew his bottom lip between his teeth, pausing for a breathless second. “Not that I’m not impressed.”
“Impressed enough to help me with the dishes?” I teased, and it earned me a hearty laugh.
“Definitely.”
Washing dishes should’ve been the least sexiest thing in the world, but somehow, Oliver made it feel good. I had suds up to my elbows as I scrubbed the stubborn sauce from the stock pan while Oliver kissed my neck and wrapped his arms around me. I squirmed when I felt his hardness against the cleft of my butt, and flicked some soap bubbles at him. He responded by sliding his hand around to cup me through my jeans.
I whimpered. “Tease.”
“Mmm, I’m beginning to think that these pots? Definitely need to soak for like…ten or eleven hours. What do you say?” His breath ghosted hot over my skin, his lips nibbling at my neck. With a groan, I dropped my head back against his shoulder. He continued to kiss and suck and grope over me, until I was nearly ready to pop.
“Sounds good,” I breathed. “Bedroom?”
“Shall we bring the wine?”
“Screw the wine.” I grabbed his hand and dragged him along behind me. The bedroom was aglow with the soft flickering of candlelight, making my cream-colored sheets seem bright inthe darkness. I backed up until my knees hit the edge of the mattress, breathing in sharply.
This was it. The true test of our relationship.
With a growl, Oliver kicked the door shut behind him and yanked my shirt up over my head, at the same time I was fumbling with the buttons on his. His shirt fell off his shoulders to land on the floor, long forgotten. He popped the button on my jeans, then caught my mouth in a fierce kiss.
“You wanna stop, all you have to do is say the words,” he whispered against my lips, so tenderly that I wanted to cry. “Tonight is all about you.”
“No. I want this, I want it so bad, I’m just…” I gulped. “Scared.”
He paused, his fingers still hooked in the waistband of my jeans. “Why are you scared?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “It’s stupid.”
“No it’s not. You know I wouldn’t hurt you, right?”
“I know, but I…” Feeling exposed, I crossed my arms over my bare trunk in a feeble attempt to hide my size from him. Panic seized me when Oliver pulled away to meet my eye. Might as well get it over with… “I’m fat.”
A smile quirked up one corner of his mouth. “You’re fluffy.”
“Oliver, look at me?—”
“Brinden, Iamlooking at you and there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re beautiful. You’re plush and soft, and you’re one hell of a cuddle-bug. So what if you don’t have the perfect body? Nobody’s perfect. Your weight has never been a turnoff for me.”
He stepped into my space so quickly, I gasped. He stole my breath away with a kiss as he ran his hands down my sides, to grasp at my ass. “You’re amazing and whoever convinced you otherwise…” He shook his head. “They aren’t worth your time. Let me love your body like it deserves to be loved. I won’t hurt you, Brin. I swear.”
I blinked back tears and he kissed them away, before laying me down on the bed and crawling on top of me, and every move he made, every single touch, set my soul on fire. His hands caressed and moved me, enraptured and pleasured me, until I was gasping for release. He took his time and worshipped every last inch of my body, like I was a god and pleasing me was what he lived for.
And as we came down from that high, shaky and sweating and tied up in each other, he pressed our foreheads together and sealed it with a kiss. My heart felt like it might burst with happiness, explode into a mess of confetti and glitter.
