Well, I guess it’s really just that simple.
22
MILES
It’s been three days of fucking, coaxing our stubborn and horny omega, and knotting her. Caelia’s sprawled out on my body now, where she’s been for the last six hours.
I love this girl so much, mood swings, temper tantrums, and all. She bit Santo’s thigh when he went to move from riding her face yesterday, and bonded herself to him. It was so funny that it hit her afterward, and she burst into tears because she hadn’t asked him first.
They were already half bonded. Santo reassured her that she did what her instincts wanted her to do.
Levon is patiently waiting for his turn, happy because she told him that she loved him. There’s no rush, and he knows it. Things are exactly where they need to be.
“Let me make sure that the apartment is still standing,” Santo mumbles, pushing himself into a sitting position.
Levon continues to snore, unbothered by the movement. I’m not surprised, Caelia liked to wake him up with his dick in her mouth.
“Maybe hunt down our phones?” I ask. “I don’t think we had a chance to really let anyone know before we went radio silent.”
Fuck, Caelia’s dad is going to kill us for not at least sending him a text message.
“On it,” Santo promises, slipping out of the nest.
Sighing, I close my eyes, feeling his presence outside of the canopy a few minutes later.
“I’m plugging the phones in. They’re all dead,” he explains, yawning sleepily.
We’re all still pretty wrecked, but damn it was worth it to be able to be here with Caelia.
“I’ll check them as soon as they’re on,” I murmur.
“Cool, I’m going to hunt down food. Maybe I can make Caelia waffles,” Santo says.
“Don’t burn down the apartment,” I remind him.
Santo snorts in derision, muttering about how he’d never do that as he leaves, leaving me to chuckle alone at having offended his fragile male ego.
One of the phones begins to ring, and I blindly knock back the canopy, reaching for the phone. Caelia’s charger cord is long enough for me to answer it, putting it up to my ear.
“Hello, this is Caelia’s phone,” I rumble, my hand smoothing over her hair as she sleeps.
“Who is this?” a male’s voice suspiciously asks. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve called?”
Confused, I pull the phone away from my ear, but it’s not a saved number. A quick check of her call log shows that he’s called dozens of times. Shit.
“This is Miles Wallace,” I reply, putting the phone back to my ear. “I apologize that you haven’t been able to get in touch with her, she’s currently sleeping. She’s been indisposed for the last three days.”
I figure that’s a delicate enough way to explain that she’s been in heat and unable to answer the phone.
“You’re the Scented Scorpions coach,” he says accusingly.
“You know who I am, but I don’t have that advantage,” I say politely. “Caelia is sleeping and hasn’t been feeling well for the last three days. Her phone has been dead until just now.”
“My daughter said something about this, but I didn’t believe her,” the man grumbles. I can tell he’s older by his voice, but I’m beginning to get a really bad feeling about this. “I’m Friedrick Olsson, Caelia’s boss. Well, her soon to be ex-boss after this.”
“Why? She hasn’t done anything wrong,” I growl. “Are you worried that she’s spilling secrets? With all due respect, sir, she would never do that. Maybe you should explain why you originally called. I doubt you’d have rung her so many times just to talk. She doesn’t even have your phone number saved.”
“Yes, well, we don’t usually talk this way. I call her father or email her,” Friedrick mutters.
