True, fulfilling love. That's what she wants. That's what she's been denied. And somehow, hearing her say it makes me want to be the one who gives it to her.
She finishes the last dish and wipes her hands on the towel I offer her. I put the final plate on the drying rack and turn to face her fully.
She has to look up to meet my eyes. The height difference between us is significant—I have at least a foot on her, maybe more—and there's something about the way she tilts her chin up, refusing to be intimidated by the size disparity, that makes my Alpha instincts purr with approval.
"Do you regret last night?" I ask, turning her question back on her.
She smirks—that bold, challenging expression that's so different from the nervous omega who was blushing at the breakfast table. "Would you want me to?"
I'm quiet for a moment, considering. "Saying yes would be the easier route, wouldn't it?"
She simply smirks wider, like she knows exactly what I'm not saying. Then she moves to walk away?—
I stop her. My hand catches her chin, tilting her face up to mine as I lean in close. Close enough that I can count the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes. Close enough that her scent wraps around me like a blanket.
"But between you and me," I whisper, my voice dropping low. "Did you actually enjoy it?"
Her breath catches. I can feel the flutter of her pulse under my fingertips, can see the way her pupils dilate.
"If I admit I did," she counters, her voice equally low, "will it happen again?"
A low chuckle rumbles through my chest. "I can't exactly get those guys to attempt to kidnap you again for theatricalpurposes. But..." I lean in even closer, my lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "I could definitely be up for some foreplay."
We share a look. Heat and promise and something that feels like the beginning of something neither of us expected.
A whistle breaks the moment.
"Man," Elias says from the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed and a shit-eating grin on his face. "Tank issmitteeeeen. What kind of concoction did you give our boy? Can I have some?"
I give him a flat side-eye that promises retribution later.
Rosemarie giggles—actually giggles, bright and light and completely unexpected—and slips out of my grip. I let her go, but not before landing a light slap on her ass that makes her squeak.
She shoots me a look over her shoulder, half-annoyed and half-amused, before turning to Elias with a sweet smile that doesn't match the wicked gleam in her eyes.
"It could be pussy slick for all you know," she says, her voice sugar-sweet and absolutely devastating. "So I guess you'll have to work for it, youngling."
Holy shit.
This woman just said that. Out loud. To my packmate. With a completely straight face and a smile that could melt glaciers.
Elias chokes on air. "I'm older than you!"
She shrugs, completely unbothered, as she saunters past him toward the living room. "Sure, sure."
This woman. This bold, surprising, infuriating woman. She walked into my life less than twenty-four hours ago, and she's already turning everything upside down.
I think I might be a little more than smitten.
I follow at a distance, watching as she walks into the living room where Julian is sitting on the couch. He's got one leg crossed over the other, tablet in hand, his attention seeminglyfixed on whatever's on the screen. The perfect picture of studied indifference.
Rosemarie decides to sit next to him. Not across from him, not in another chair entirely—right next to him, close enough that their shoulders could touch if she shifted a few inches.
Bold move, little Omega. Julian doesn't like people in his space. He's had Omegas throw themselves at him for years—models, socialites, wealthy heiresses—and he's never once shown interest. Most people learn quickly not to push.
But Rosemarie just... sits. Like it's the most natural thing in the world. Like Julian's prickly exterior doesn't intimidate her in the slightest.
I can see Julian's side-eye move toward her, sharp and assessing. "Don't ask what I'm doing," he says flatly.
