“What’s this?” he asks, suddenly opening his mouth and pointing to his tongue and the silver ball in the middle. My eyes widen as he confirms he really does have a piercing there. I’ve been wondering since he arrived how many piercings he has, and where they are.
I shoot my gaze away, the muscles he was talking about tensing up. I like how I have to look down at him, and his expression makes me enjoy it too much.
“What the fuck are you doing? I’m not a kid.”
“Come on, Timber,” he teases. “Play with me.”
He’s doing it deliberately. There’s no way I can look at him sticking out his tongue and react normally.
“It’s your tongue,” I mumble.
“Nu-uh, it’s notjustmy tongue. It’s a sensory organ. It’s not only for tasting, but feeling.” I look back at him to find an even brighter smile. “I don’t lick something to taste it, I want the texture, and the experience of eating.”
I have to be seriously messed up to have a little bolt of heat go straight to my cock as soon as he says ‘lick’.
“So, I’m not just here to take care of your health, but I want to make sure your tongue is happy, as well as the rest of your body. If your tongue likes how it feels, you’ll want to eat more, and then we can get you to a place where you’re healthy again.” He beams at me, totally innocent, not a worry in the world.
And why would he think the hockey player almost twice his age is getting turned on at how he’s phrasing things?
“I’ll go shopping tomorrow and get us stocked up so I can start cooking. When do you leave for your next away game?”
“Friday,” I reply stiffly.
“Perfect, so I have a week to make you fall in love, and then you’ll come back home begging for more. Trust me, Timber, I’m good when it comes to flavor, and I think I can already guess what kind of textures you like the best.”
I force myself to stay still, apart from the scowl I can’t hide. This is not going well.
“How long are you here for again?” I ask, knowing four months is too long, and he laughs. I’m not sure I can handle this type of person. Kane is bad enough.
I’m already wiped out from the back-to-back home games we’ve played this weekend. I don’t have the headspace to figure out if Luke knows what he is doing or if I’m just horny.
“I want to make your tongue happy, Timber. But I need you to work with me on that.” He leans in closer, and I automatically edge away, my back digging into the counter. “Will you help me? If we do this right, soon your mouth will water every time you see me.”
I look down at him, holding his hands behind his back, a clear look in his eyes. Desire curls through me as the corner of his lips hitch, and I’m pretty sure I’m fucked.
Ollie
Timber is at the rink for the whole day, which means I can take my time getting to know his kitchen before making a shopping list. Luke and I made a rough plan of what kind of meals I’m going to create. I thought it would be bad, but I didn’t think the only thing he had in his cupboards were boxes and boxes of protein bars.
The man is a train wreck. I was so confident talking about all the amazing things I’m going to cook for him. But if his vibe is bars and milk, it’s going to take a lot more sleuthing to get to the bottom of what Timber is willing to put in his body.
Before he left, he threw me his car keys and told me to drive it instead of my little baby. I love my car; it’s nice and small and compact, and doesn’t take up any space on the road.
Timber’s car, on the other hand, is a venom-green demon machine that looks like it’s been made to mow down old grannies on the street. Even touching the pedal has the engine roaring, though it’s a rush speeding down the highway in it.
I need a kick, and rolling up to the stop lights with my elbow resting on the open window and winking at pretty omegas does it. Plus, I didn’t sleep last night.
My nesting instincts aren’t meant to unleash themselves until a week before my heat, but oh boy. Soaking in coffee triggers them big time, and I spent all night arranging the room so everything is perfect. Which is a terrible idea, considering I don’t know if I’m going to stay there, but I can’t help myself.
I have a huge beanbag bed I dragged inside when Timber went for a run last night. It’s three times the size of me, pitch black, and the cover is all cozy and furry and soft. It’s the main thing I own that screams ‘omega’.
It was rough having to break up my nest and choose what to take and what to leave in the apartment Luke and I share on the other side of the city. It will take time to adjust, but the beanbag bed is the most important thing.
When I finally got to sleep, it was 5 a.m., and an hour later, the loudest alarm I’ve ever heard was tearing through the house. I thought someone had broken in, and the security system Timber is so proud of had kicked into action. But no, it’s his alarm clock. Because apparently, Timber is the heaviest sleeper in the world.
There’s so much I need to learn about his lifestyle, so we can craft his health plan.Normalthoughts.Professionalthoughts. And not keep replaying the sight of him padding around the house this morning, half-naked and half-asleep. His ripped body with a tiny towel around his hips so he can shower in the giant bathroom wedged between our rooms is the best thing I’ve seen in years.
Yeah, it’s going to be a fun four months. Especially when his car has traces of an orchid-scented omega and my dumb ass is getting worked up. Not only am I now permanently horny, I’m all jealous and getting possessive over Timber despite the fact we’ve barely talked to each other.
