But looks don’t matter if they’re purposely suppressing Omega opportunities. Attractive jerks are still jerks.
I’m typing up content ideas, getting into a rhythm, when the main door opens and Jasper strolls in.
He moves past my desk without saying a word, but his scent washes over me like a tidal wave crashing against rocks.
Sandalwood. Pine. Molasses.
It wraps around me, sinking deep into my lungs, and suddenly that delicious tingle is back between my thighs.
No. Absolutely not.
I press my legs together hard, trying to will away the response, but it doesn’t work. The tingle intensifies, warmth pooling low in my belly, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stay focused on my screen.
I didn’t plan for this. I hid my scent, masked everything about being an Omega, but I didn’t think about how to protect myself fromtheirscents.
Monumental mistake. Catastrophic oversight.
I need to move. Get some space. Clear my head before I do something stupid like moan out loud.
I stand up casually, and immediately all three heads pop up from their respective offices like meerkats.
Mason. Dylan. Even Jasper, who just walked past thirty seconds ago.
All of them are watching me.
“Just need the bathroom,” I say, and my voice comes out higher than intended. I clear my throat. “Bathroom break. Very normal. Standard biological function.”
Stop talking, Anita.
I head toward the back of the office, trying to remember how men walk. Loose hips. Confident stride.Don’t sway. Think John Wayne. But less bowlegged.
The bathrooms are tucked in the back corner, and I’m relieved to be out of their direct line of sight for a moment. My heart is hammering, and sweat is gathering under the wig.
There are two doors. One with a little figure in a dress. One without.
I reach for the women’s room automatically, my hand on the handle, then freeze.
No. Can’t do that.
I glance back toward the offices. They’re all focused on their work now, or at least pretending to be.
I take a breath and push open the men’s room door.
It shuts behind me, and I lean against the wall, eyes shut, exhaling loudly. The cool air feels incredible against my overheated skin.
“Thank God,” I mutter.
Then I hear the sound of a belt buckle.
My entire body goes rigid.
I turn my head slowly, eyes opening, dread creeping up my spine, and find a large man standing at the urinal, hands on his belt.
Oh God. Oh, no.
He’s huge. Easily as tall as Jasper, maybe taller, with broad shoulders that seem to take up half the small bathroom. Black hair, short and messy like he’s been running his hands through it or fighting with the wind. A few days’ worth of stubble covers his jaw, darker than his hair. Steel-gray eyes meet mine, and there’s amusement dancing in them.
And I recognize him.
