“Already had coffee this morning.” His voice dips lower, teasing but rough around the edges. The look he gives me sends heat flooding straight through me, and I swear the air thickens. “I can think of one thing that’d balance saving your life.”
“My life? Hardly.” I cross my arms tighter. “How about a high five? A fist bump?”
He shakes his head, a different kind of smile on his face.
“A hug?”
A long moment passes as he stares at something that is outside of my narrow field of vision.
He smirks. “How about a ride?”
My mind blanks, then floods with want. The word “ride” hits my system like a match in dry grass. My scent spikes before I can stop it, the buttercup sweetness thick around me, and his nostrils flare as it reaches him.
Jake is the only Alpha I’ve ever been with, and my body remembers every touch, every command, every breath we ever shared.
I curse this designation, curse the pull that tightens low in my stomach, making me ache. I clear my throat, trying to steady my voice. “A ride?” I ask, though it comes out raspier than I intend.
He clears his throat too, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “I have to check the east fence. Come with me.”
“Fine. Just get me out of here.”
He doesn’t move right away. His eyes drag over my face, then lower, to my mouth, and stay there. My pulse jumps. I forgot how gorgeous he is.
Jake’s somehow managed to blend soft edges and hard angles into the perfect mix. His light brown hair, longer than it should be, catches the breeze. And those deep brown eyes—steady and wise beyond his years—don’t match the teasing curveof his lips or the playful dimple that exists just on one side. But that was always Jake.
He’s two people at once: the boy who made me laugh and the man who made my body tremble. The boy who kissed me slow and the Alpha who rode bulls like he needed the danger to breathe. Somehow, those sides of him make perfect sense—like his scent. Sweet and spicy, like dark chocolate dusted with chili pepper. Familiar. Addictive.
God, I loved him. And even now, looking up at him, I can feel the heartache that’s never really left. But for the first time, I kind of get it—the why of it all. It must have been hard for him, too. With that thought, a softness settles in my chest when I look at him.
Then it hits me—a thick wave of his scent. That rich, masculine spice rolls down the well and wraps around me. My breath catches. My nipples harden. The instinctive response is humiliatingly immediate, and I press my thighs together, praying he can’t smell how fast my body betrays me.
Six years without an Alpha, and my Omega is done pretending she forgot how it feels.
“Dillon,” I call up, glaring. “Are you going to help me, or just stand there looking pretty?”
“I can multitask,” he says, still grinning and making no effort to help.
“Jake!”
“Okay, okay.” He disappears for a moment, then returns with a length of what I think are his reins.
“All right—catch.”
He leans down as far as he can, extending his arm dangling the strap, and I grab it tight, wrapping it around my hand.
“Ready!” I yell up, and he gives a mighty pull. I’m momentarily shocked by the strength there. He’s grown in theway Alphas do—broader, harder, every line of him filled out from the lithe young man I remember.
As soon as I’m within reach, his other hand shoots down to grab my wrist. The instant our skin connects, static snaps between us—Alpha and Omega energy crackling through the air like a live wire. He grunts softly, and I pretend not to hear it.
With Jake pulling from above, I manage to scramble up what’s left of the ladder. At the last second, he gives one final tug, and I tumble over the rim, landing in an ungraceful heap at his boots.
The scent of him crashes over me again, making my mouth water, and for one dizzy second, all I can think is that I never should’ve let this man go.
He catches me as I stumble, and suddenly we’re pressed together, his arms around me, my hands on his chest. The moment fills with awareness—his solid warmth, the way his scent wraps around me, the heat in his eyes.
“Hi,” he says softly.
“Hi,” I manage.
