Christ, that does me in far worse than the scent. I shift in my seat, trying to ease the pressure building under my jeans without drawing attention to it. No chance. She notices everything.
Her gaze flicks down and then back up, and now she’s the one smiling. “Having a hard time?” she asks sweetly.
I bark a quiet laugh.
“You started it.” Her lips part. Then she glances out the window for a moment, at the water, the palms, the clean line of morning stretching ahead of us, but I can feel her thinking. It’s in the sharp little breaths she keeps trying to hide and the way she presses those creamy thighs together like that might solve a damn thing.
“I’ve known you for five minutes, and every instinct I’ve got is already rearranging itself around you,” I say. “That’s not me losing control but me fighting for it.”
Her expression is softer now. “And you’re winning?” she asks.
I smile, but there’s no humor in it this time. “Barely.”
She moves in her seat, yet her gaze never leaves me.
Fuck. I drag in another breath, and her scent floods my lungs all over again. Sweet, warm, Omega.Mine, mine, mine, some ugly possessive part of me insists, and I shove that urge down where it belongs.
“So, what,” she says, voice steadier than the heat curling through the cab, “I’m supposed to be impressed by your self-control?”
“No.” I cut her a brief glance, then face the road again. “You’re supposed to appreciate the effort.”
She laughs, and this time it’s brighter, teasing its way through the tension without easing any of it. “I’m not sure I do.”
“Then you’re ungrateful.”
She shakes her head, smiling despite herself.
I keep going, because at this point, restraint feels like a technicality. “You want the truth? Sitting this close to you feels like torture. Every inhale is you. My body’s been keyed up since the second you climbed in, and it’s taking an obscene amount of discipline not to pull over and find out whether you taste as good as you smell.”
She seems to forget to answer, and that alone is enough to send a dark pulse of satisfaction through me.
A blush rises under her skin, and she drops her gaze to her hands like she suddenly finds them fascinating. One thumb rubs over the other, and maybe I’ve hit too close to home.
I take the turn into town and ease the truck onto the quieter street, exhaling slowly through my nose. The buildings start to replace the coastline, little shops and parked cars and people moving through their morning, all of them blissfully unaware that I’m one deep breath away from hauling an Omega into my lap.
“For the record,” I say, quieter now, “I can behave.”
She glances at me, amusement back in place, and laughs. Then her smile fades. “And if I ask for more?”
The words slide into the cab and stay there. My pulse kicks hard once, so I don’t answer immediately. I pull up to the lights, the engine idling under us, the red glow washing the cab in a low, suspended kind of tension.
Then I turn my head and meet her eyes properly. “If you asked,” I say, voice low and steady and full of everything I’ve been holding back, “I’d give you exactly what your body’s beenasking for since you got near us. Because I have an idea howhardit is.” I emphasize the word while she rolls her eyes, but her gaze drops to my groin and stays.
“You weren’t exaggerating,” she adds.
“I never do when it comes to size.”
“Most men who say that are liars,” he quips quickly.
“And?”
A slow grin spreads across her face. “What would you do if I reached over right now to find out?”
My heart thunders. “I’m sorry?”
“So I can check for myself.”
“Oh, I heard you. I’m verifying.”
