He hums, raising one of his eyebrows with that smile of his getting bigger.
“Anything else I should know?”
I nod my head. “I’m an omega.”
“Ahh, dove I knew that the second I scented your jasmine perfume. Although I have to confess, the only thing I remember was the knowledge you were mine.”
“I think I’d like that,” I say.
“Good. Now, come on, Gabriel has to talk with all of us, and I’m going to feed you grilled lobster and a garden salad.”
“I need to speak with Noah, first.”
“Noah?”
I shrug before I drop my hands on his hips and pull him close. “Much like you, Mr. MacGregor, Dr. Teo is poorly represented. He’s an untapped commodity.”
“Does he know who you are?” he asks, intrigued as he wraps his arms around me, holding me to his chest before he spins me, his hands starting to wander.
“No. But he needs to. You know I wanted to tell you in the car when we were driving here.”
“That’s okay, dove. I wanted to tell the world you were mine the minute I climbed in your car.” He squeezes the tops of my thighs, his fingers pulling my pussy open. Lincoln moves his thumb in small circles, feather light touches across the still sensitive hood. “We need to talk about how I am in the bedroom too, dove. You can rule my life out in the business world, even outside of our bedroom, but in there, you are mine in every and any interpretation of the word.”
I don’t answer but he’s not seeking my agreement, or approval either. Not yet anyway. His touch is loud enough. A mere second later, he steps away, perhaps reminding me to remember his touch. He turns the shower off and dries me with the softest towel in the damn world, not saying another word.
Ares hops up as I walk out of the bathroom and comes over to check on me. It feels weird thinking my dog knows I just got spit roasted. Lincoln walks past me, his pert, tanned ass on display as he opens the door to his walk-in wardrobe while I talk bullshit to Ares and get dressed.
Before I chicken out, I leave Lincoln in the kitchen while I go looking for Noah, eventually finding him dozing on the sofa in the living room, a hockey game on the television on silent. He looks dead to the world. The way he works himself to the bone has been one of our sticking points actually, and I know he gets a lot of satisfaction from what he does, helping people in both his surgery, and what he does with the Alliance, but he leaves no time for himself. I take a seat on the sofa next to him, Ares at my feet.
Within a few minutes, he shuffles and moves up, so his head is on my lap and then he snags my hand putting it on his head as he rolls to face me. And there’s a part of me that goes with it, I mean, Noah putting his head on my lap, crap yes!
“I thought you were sleeping,” I say softly, he guides my hand on his head, indicating he wants head tickles.
“I was. Now I’m awake,” he says, pointing out the obvious while he lifts my other hand and undoes the bandage he put on earlier, giving the cut a good look.
“It’s fine.”
“I can see that. How’s your head?” he bites back, adding his usual toneless attitude. He must be waking up more.
“Well, let’s say it’s not holding me back from doing anything,” I say. In truth I did kind of forget about the stitches, getting a few dozen orgasms does that.
“And how’s your dog?” He squints at me in his doctor inspired tone.
“Listening to you, so don’t bag him, or he’ll bite your ass. His paw though is much better. One of the reasons I got the breed was because they have a high pain threshold and can push through even when they’re hurt. Except when they get tranqued.” I ramble nervously as I run my fingers through his hair, the brown of it is so deep in colour and it’s so soft to touch. My fingers trail over to his beard and he reaches up like Ares does when I scratch him under his chin.
“Luke said he thought it was Ketamine. Ares should have no lingering side effects.”
“I know.”
It’s weird being so comfortable with alphas I barely know, but that in itself is a false statement because I do know parts of Noah I’m positive no one else does. Late night confessions with a person you’ve never seen or met has meant we’ve both probably shared some pretty private information with each other.
“Why are you so nervous?”
“You can tell I’m nervous?”
He tips his head back and stares at me. And Noah is neither coy or impatient, he gives me thatare you seriouslook and it makes me bumble in my nerves.
“God, I need practice. I’m good at interacting with people but doing this up close and personal thing is taking a little time to adjust. And, yes, you’re right, I am nervous.”
