The version of him we’ve been living with lately was angry, lost, and hard to be around.
But this Blaze is so easy to love. He has a permanent place in my heart.
“Do you want to get cleaned up?” I ask Halley.
She doesn’t answer, too busy making moon-eyes at Blaze as he dances through the kitchen, but the grime on her skin speaks for itself. After hours of rolling on dirty sparring mats and sweating through training, she definitely needs a good scrub.
I herd her towards the bathroom, and gather her toiletries with a clean towel, and if I select my own clothes for her to wear afterwards, that’s my business.
I settle her on the closed toilet lid and start the shower, testing the temperature with my hand. The place might be little more than a rundown shack on the edge of a forgotten military outpost, but by some miracle, the water’s warm. Not hot, there’s no steam, but it’s far from freezing, and that feels like a small victory.
“Come here, sweet thing.” I scoop her up with a grin. “Quick rinse, then we’ll nest hard.”
I turn to leave, but she grabs a fistful of my shirt.
“No! Don’t go. Why are you all trying to leave me?”
“You want me to stay?” I ask.
She gives a fierce little nod, mouth set like a soldier bracing for orders. Turns out there is some fire left in our Omega in this state.
“Bossy girl,” I tease, tapping under her chin. She huffs, and I can’t help but laugh. “Alright then. Let’s get you out of these clothes.”
She’s wearing bulky black tactical pants and a compression top that clings too tightly. It’s nothing like the custom-fit uniform Knox made just for her. I happen to know he’s already working to remedy that oversight, spending hours stitching together a new set. He claims he doesn’t know how to be soft, but there’s more than one way to show care, and that is his. A selfless act of service.
“Arms up.”
I peel her shirt over her head, careful, slow, trying not to notice the way her breasts spill over the top of her sports bra like they’re aching to be touched. The fabric is strained, clearly not made with an Omega’s curves in mind. Our Omega is…generously gifted.
One flick and the bra loosens. Her breasts fall free, her nipples peaked and flushed. My mouth waters as I imagine them wet with my spit.
Focus. I need focus.
“Trousers and panties off next, sweet thing,” I say with a far steadier voice than I expected.
She doesn’t hesitate, just slides them down with a dreamy little sway of her hips that makes it tough to remember what we were doing. The way her lashes flutter and her body moves is sensual without her trying.
The patch of curls between her legs is exactly as I remember. I wonder if the pretty pink petals are just as lovely as I recall too.
I force my gaze upwards and away from temptation.
Care and support, Specialist Shade.Halley needs a caretaker right now, not a horny Beta who wants to curl against her hip and hump like a dog.
“Right, er, in the shower with you.”
I strip down to my boxers but keep them on for both our sakes, tuck my raging boner into my waistband, and step in behind her as the warm water starts to mist around us. She doesn’t flinch or question, just leans into the comfort like she’s done it a hundred times. I keep my movements steady, gentle, reminding myself that this is about her. Not me. Not the ache I’m trying to ignore.
I pick up the soap, ignoring the scent-canceling one sitting beside it. I want to smell every nuance of her perfume.
Her back is to me, and I take my time lathering the soap, working it into a light foam before running it over her shoulders and down her front. I tell myself I’m being clinical and efficient… but my fingers linger, tracing soap suds that track lines over her clavicle and down over the swell of her breasts.
When I step backwards to wash her back, I have to take deep breaths through my nose at the sight of her ass. How many hours have I spent watching the tight pull of her trousers, enamored with how this ass jiggles when she walks.
Her body is all soft lines and warmth, so unlike the world we come from. Where we are cut muscles and hard bodies, she’s got plush curves.
My hands settle on her rounded hips, and I squeeze before I can stop myself. Her flesh dimples under my fingers, and something hot twists in my stomach. I love how her body yields to my touch, ready and willing to cushion everything and anything I give it.
A dribble of wetness spills from my cockhead into my waistband, evidence of my treacherous body.
