My heart swells at the realization we’re finally on the road to becoming parents.
And we have the beautiful omega down the hall to thank for that.
I have to set the tray down to open the door to the omega quarters. Once I’m inside, I quietly close that door and set the tray on the table, lifting the mug and carrying it with me to the closed door of the bedroom.
The bed’s empty and the shower’s running. I leave the door to the bedroom cracked, forcing myself to wait like a civilized alpha instead of barging in there for a glimpse of his naked body.
It’s another ten minutes before I hear the bathroom door open.
“I’m in the living room. Don’t want to spook you,” I call out as I hear his feet pad softly against the hardwood floor.
He opens the door and cranes his neck around the frame. “Did you need something?” he asks.
His hair is wet, making it appear dark brown, and hangs loosely around his face. He’s also shirtless, but his lower half is obscured by the wall. No idea whether a towel is wrapped around his waist or if he pulled on boxers yet.
Still, I keep my eyes on his face as I say, “Brought you some breakfast,” and jerk my head toward the tray.
A smile stretches across his face as he glances from the tray then back to me. “Thank you. Give me a second to get dressed and I’ll be right out.”
Is it bad I’m seconds away from asking if I can watch?
Probably not the best start to our relationship.
Relationship? Friendship?
I don’t even know what to call our situation. An arrangement? Courtship?
Or dangerous territory?
A few minutes later, Hudson steps into the room in a pair of slacks that look as though they were tailored specifically to his body and a dark blue t-shirt that makes his eyes pop. Slacks and a t-shirt. The look works on him.
He’s also brushed through his hair, though he didn’t bother with drying it. I don’t know why, but the way the longer strands dampen the collar of his shirt is kind of a turn on.
Honestly, though, it seems nearly about everything about this omega has turned me on from the moment I laid eyes on him yesterday afternoon.
“Hope you’re hungry,” I say as I start lifting the covers from the trays.
“Starving, actually.”
He hadn’t eaten much yesterday other than some snacks while we watched some movies. I suppose he could have eaten when he went home to pack his bags, but I have a feeling his nerves were strung as tightly as mine were.
After loading up a plate for him and watching him doctor his coffee with barely half a teaspoon of sugar and a load of creamer, I sit back against the cushion, cross my ankle over the opposite knee, and stretch an arm across the back of the couch.
“You’re not eating?” he asks before biting into a strip of bacon.
“I’m usually up with the sun. I ate a couple hours ago,” I tell him. “I actually wanted to ask a few questions.”
He swallows and raises a brow. “Should I be nervous?” His smile is unsure.
“No. Not at all. I just realized there were a lot of things we didn’t bother finding out. Do you have a job you need to check in with?” I ask. “We can make sure you’re covered while you’re here.”
He flushes. “Not exactly. I’ve had…benefactors.”
“Sugar daddies?” I tease, grinning when his blush deepens. “Sexy.”
“You think that’s sexy?”
“Everything about you is sexy.”
