I turn to look at him, and his expression shifts immediately. He knows. Of course he knows. He can probably smell the change in my scent and the way my pheromones are starting to spike.
“How long?” he asks, voice dropping lower.
“Day, maybe two.” I move into the nest and start arranging things with more purpose. “It’s early this time.”
“Stress can do that.” He’s already pulling out his phone, typing something. “I’m clearing my schedule.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do.” He sets the phone down and moves toward me. “Fuck the meetings.” He kneels at the edge of the nest, careful not to disturb my arrangement. “You’ll always be more important.”
Four months ago, I wouldn’t have believed him. I would’ve thought this was manipulation or control or him just wanting access to an omega in heat.
Now I know better. I know what he feels for me is real.
“I love you,” I say, because he needs to hear it as much as I need to say it.
His whole face softens the way it always does when I say those words.
“I love you too.” Then he pins me with his dark gaze. “Now take your clothes off before I rip them off.”
“Bossy.” But I’m already reaching for the hem of my shirt.
“You like it.”
He’s not wrong. My body responds to his commands like it was wired that way, heat flooding through me at just the tone of his voice.
And it terrifies and pleases me in equal measure how much I like it.
