Chapter Twenty-Eight
TALLY
The television is on, and the shower’s running. The lingering scent of chocolate and pepper floats through my apartment like an expensive room de-mister.
A blistering heat races over my skin, and my steps slow as I reach the space between my bedroom and the second bedroom. I’m seriously torn between what I’d like to do and what I should.
God, this pack is testing me.
The takeout box in my hand is the thing moving my thoughts from the naked and wet Alpha in my shower to the Omega I’ve been avoiding. For too long. It’s the right thing to do, and I know I’ve been avoiding seeing him. And the reasons why. Jesus, he’s fucking stunning, but his looks aren’t what’s kept me away.
I knock on the wall where the walk-in closet once was. One second standing there, and already his distinctly herbal, earthy, almost, slightly spicy scent has my head spinning in slow circles. Closing my eyes sounds like a good idea, but it somehowintensifies his sage and sugar scent, making a wave of desire undulate over me.
“Tally?” Rafferty’s seductive purr interrupts my daydreaming, also adding to the flare of heat racing through my blood.
My eyes flutter open, and I have to immediately look away from his stare. His pretty azure blue eyes are like a mirror to my soul, his emotions mimicking mine—awe and wonder, fear and worry, blazing lust.
Rafferty takes a step and mutters under his breath, swaying on his feet like he’s been drinking. “Shit, Tally. Your scent is a bit like a sledgehammer to my brain, and a vise to my dick. Don’t get me wrong, I like it. A lot…” He stammers his words, losing them completely, reverting instead to sweeping his arms wide in welcome.
I’m not sure I could stop myself from moving if I had a gun pressed against my temple. I berate myself for having stayed away from him for so long. But part of it was this—scent-matched Omegas—isn’t something I’ve read much about. I might have to find some spare time. Or I could just learn about the concept with him.
A small press of his hand on my lower back as I pass through the recently cut-in door, and his touch brings an echo that travels through my body. From the bottom of my feet to the ends of my hair, everything buzzes as if I have a live wire held against my skin.
He closes the door, shutting us away from the others. Alone.
Rafferty walks past me, muttering under his breath still, spinning as he goes to take my hand in his. Things are happening on so many levels, it’s hard to keep up with everything—the sights, the scents, my emotions, my physical responses to him.
Perhaps, though, it’s only happening like it should. Maybe it’s the way nature intended. It makes sense. With Alphas, it can be this fast, but with Rafferty, these racing moments might simply be our Omega sides aligning to each other like scent-matched mates are meant to. It’s the only explanation I have to work with.
Rafferty’s eyes are on me. They haven’t left me since I knocked on his wall. His gaze is physical, like a caress. Mind-blowing logic, but making sense too.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” he says when I drag my eyes off his body and back to his face.
“I seriously wondered if I should. Weird, huh?” I reply quietly, losing my train of thought by the way his hand feels in mine.
I couldn’t even tell you what his home looks like. The colors on the wall, the furniture, the lighting, the smell… None of it is as important as him.
He leads, and I follow until we end in front of an oversized chair tucked into the corner of a room. We sit together. Rafferty has a scent-soaked blanket in his hands, and when he drapes it over our shoulders, the scent of him is enhanced by chocolate and cinnamon drapes. I make a noise in the back of my throat, and he snuggles even closer. But because there are two of us, and the rule of snuggling is, you always need lots of blankets, he grabs another one. And this one has only been touched by Tynan. His lemon verbena is so fresh, but it’s also the missing piece, tying them all together.
My head falls backwards and Rafferty curls the blankets in a fist, bringing them both up so I can press my face into the soft, luxurious, and seriously yummy-smelling fabric. When I moan, Rafferty only laughs. But it’s full of understanding, encouragement, even.
“Shit,” I whisper after a few nose rubs, “I brought you some pastries from the bakery, but I don’t know where they are.”
He chuckles again before reaching forward, lifting the box off the floor and dropping it onto the cushion beside us. Rafferty holds me close, my back to his chest, his mouth dipping down to glide along my skin. “You're the best gift I’ve gotten in a while.”
“I bet you say that to everyone,” I tease, and it’s as easy as breathing. “I’m serious, though, apparently you really like what’s in the box.”
“I like what’s in my arms more.” His whispered words are nothing more than a lifeline for me to focus on, keeping me from asking him to drag his nose all the way down my body.
He presses one of his thighs between mine before reclining on his side and dragging me down next to him. His arm goes around my tummy as he reaches for the parcel I brought. And while he touches the box of pastries, he doesn’t pull it over.
I twist around, and he’s so close, his breath blows over my cheek, his eyes watching me closely. I could seriously get lost in his eyes; the blue is so vibrant and alive, exactly how he makes me feel.
I have to put some space between us, not much, because there’s this crazy, strange but beautiful desire to continue touching him.
“Before we talk about bringing me gifts, Tally, I want to know if you feel what I do?”
My eyes flare, not in fear, maybe intrigue, because I have to know if we’re on the same page. “Tell me what you feel?”
