Heat builds low in my belly. Not the cozy warmth from earlier, but something hotter, more insistent.
I shift in my seat, unconsciously scooting closer to him until my thigh is pressed against his. Jake glances at me, something dark and knowing in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything. Just keeps driving, keeps stroking.
My skin feels too tight. The oversized sweater that was comfortable earlier now feels suffocating. I pull at the neck, trying to get air, and catch the way Jake’s nostrils flare.
“Wills,” he says quietly, his voice rough. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” But I’m not. I’m burning up, my Omega jittery and overwhelming. “Just warm.”
He gives me a long, considerate look that makes me squirm.
“Charlie said you used to run wild over the ranch when you were kids?”
“It depends on what you consider wild.”
I appreciate the change of subject. Even if all I can think about is getting somewhere private, somewhere I can touch him properly, somewhere this ache building inside me can finally find release.
Air. I need air. The thick Alpha scent of him is messing with something fierce.
Finally, we pull up to the ranch house. I barely wait for the truck to stop before I’m unbuckling my seatbelt. Jake comes around to help me down, and the moment my feet hit the ground, another wave of heat crashes through me.
“Easy,” he murmurs, steadying me. “I’ve got you.”
I’m embarrassed to admit that I actually need the arm he wraps around me.
He leads me inside, his hand on my lower back, and I’m so focused on the feel of his touch, on the way his scent wraps around me, that I barely register where we’re going until we’re through the front door.
“Give me a second,” Jake says, pressing a quick kiss to my temple. “I’m going to order us some food. Make yourself comfortable.”
He disappears down the hallway before I can respond, leaving me standing in the entryway of the ranch house. Alone.
Except I’m not alone.
The scent hits me first—leather with that hint of bergamot that makes my Omega perk up with interest.
Beau.
I follow it without thinking, drawn like a magnet, trying to squish down the tightly wound feeling in my chest.
I round the corner into the living room, and there he is.
Beau McCrea, lounging on the sofa. He’s so relaxed and focused on the book he’s reading, he doesn’t notice me. But I can’t help the thick pulse of need that goes right to my core at seeing him.
Fuck.
EIGHTEEN
willa
Beau’s sprawledon the couch in joggers and a T-shirt. The sight is so unexpectedly domestic and at odds with the fierce bull rider that I’m familiar with, that I burst out laughing.
He looks up, surprised. “Hey, what’s so funny?”
His expression only makes me laugh harder.
Inhaling to get a hold of myself, I pull in his rich leather-and-salt scent, and a sense of comfort and safety settles over me. With it comes relief from the strange tension that had been riding me a moment ago.
“I didn’t take you for a big reader,” I tease.
