He’s an omega. Omegas are always bad news. Nothing good can come from being involved with an omega.
Looking at it now, it’s obvious the sole reason I’m attracted to him is that he’s an omega. I bet as soon as we leave for our away games and I get space from him, I’ll realize the feelings that have been slowly building for him are all fake. I can’t trust omegas, and I can’t trust my alpha side, either.
Even though all the hurt that’s winding me up as Luke snuggles in, I want to see if I can taste the maple syrup again. Because there’s no other answer for it, is there? That fucking addictive taste, the maple syrup I’ve been craving, it’s one kiss away. And his lips are so close as his breath scatters over my neck.
How did my oatmeal taste of maple syrup? What kind of fucked up thing had he done to drive me so wild?
If he really did put his slick in my oatmeal, then it instantly brands him as a psycho, and I have to get rid of him to protect myself.
I keep watching him, and his shallow breaths, and the way his lips twitch in his sleep. His eyes flutter, his back curves, and he rubs himself against me, fucking scent marking me on instinct.
I should be repulsed; I need to get away. But with each second that ticks by, my heart clenches, my body relaxes, and I let him move. Until he buries his nose in my neck, and I shudder as he draws a deep breath, taking in my scent, and he moans.
It’s so perfect that my cock responds instantly.
I only let him run his hand over my chest in his sleep because I’m trying to find out what his plan is because approval rumbles through me as his hip presses against mine.
I’ll let it keep going. I’ll pretend I don’t know. I need to discover his true motive for sneaking into my life, and see what’s happening here. If I tell him I’ve discovered his secret, he could hide the evidence, and then I’ll never prove that he conned his way into my house to use me. He’s the only person I’ve tasted since the accident, so he has to be doing something to me to fuck with me.
My head is spinning in time with Luke’s purrs and his gentle breaths.
I jump as his nose brushes under my ear, his purrs vibrating in my throat. If I don’t get him off, he’s going to climb on top of me, and I’ll give in.
Before my nose was broken, I was completely weak to scents. All an omega had to do was perfume, and I’d become captivated. When I met my ex-wife, it was a hundred times worse, and the same need I feel for her is pounding through me as I watch Luke sleep.
He’s anomega. I have to stop him.
It’s still a herculean task to move myself out from under him. My hand creaking against the cushion of the couch to stop him from tipping over. With my feet to the carpet, I twist so I’m bent in half as I lean over him.
Luke’s ear knocks against my wrist, and his nose scrunches up again.
He looks so comfortable, like he owns the place. I bet he’s bragging to all his friends about how he’s living with Timber Holtz. It’s probably a huge game to him, and he must think I’m an idiot to fall for it so easily. Even when omegas take suppressants, there are still ways to tell.
Now I’m looking at him, it’s so fucking obvious.
He’s too thin, too pretty, too small. When I first met him in Marilyn’s office in a pressed jacket and pants, I was so furious and couldn’t look at him. But I bet if I saw him in a suit again, he’d look like a stereotypical omega. Like the ones who smile happily while they plot ways to drag you into a pack and force you to be their alpha.
He joked with me all the time, and I thought he was just having fun. But it’s probably another way to screw with me as well.
I’m so fucking stupid.
I clasp his shoulder with my other hand, giving him a shake.
“Luke,” I say, my anger seeping into my voice. His head tilts forward, exposing the long line of his smooth neck that disappears under his T-shirt. It's the perfect place for a bite.
Red rage pulses through me at how my desires are drowning out my common sense. “Luke, wake up.”
I desperately want to kiss him, especially when he groans. He stretches out, his back arching, spreading his legs, his mouth opening in a wide O as he yawns, driving me fucking crazy. The things I could do to his mouth if he let me…
If I hadn’t heard him purr, how long would he have strung me along? How long would it take for him to start asking me for clothes, cars, and money? Would he push me until I hand him everything he wants on a plate? Or would he keep pretending to be my employee and steal it behind my back? Because my ex-wife got away with that for years.
I stand, transfixed by the way his lips move as he runs his tongue over them before his eyes widen as they meet mine.
“You know, if you wanted a ride, you could just ask,” Luke says with a teasing smile, and pain tears through me.
I can’t move. I stay clasped onto him because he’s playing with me. He really thinks he can walk into my life and flirt like it doesn’t mean anything?
“That sounds like you want to be crushed,” I say roughly.
