He leans down to hear me better, and I sway toward him.
His eyes are all I can see, one a deep blue like the sky before a thunderstorm, the other white like a lightning flash.
My nose brushes his.
Magnus inhales sharply and stumbles back, bumping into the potted plants behind him.
I sag against the table, which is the only thing keeping me upright. My legs have completely given up, trying to drop me onto the ground before him.
Which might not be a bad idea, then I could present for my alpha.
No.
That’s a bad idea. I’m not supposed to do that.
Besides, Magnus already rejected me, which was the right decision. I can’t kiss my boss.
Then why does it hurt so much?
“I’m sorry,” he says roughly.
Our almost kiss obviously affected him too, which makes me feel slightly better.
All I can do is nod while I try to get my body under control. My omega is raging, bouncing between pushing us to go for it while also being hurt that he pulled away.
“I was just trying to—I wasn’t—I’m sorry,” he says, closing his eyes and running his hands through his hair.
My mind is still racing. Did I remember to use all of my descenters this morning? I’m pretty sure I grabbed the special underwear.
I can’t tell if my scent is leaking out because all I can smell is Magnus’s gingerbread scent. It’s spicier than usual, with a tang that sticks in the back of your throat.
After several long minutes, he opens his eyes but won’t look at me.
That’s fine, I don’t want to look at him either. That’s how we got into this situation in the first place, with his pretty blue-white eyes and strong jaw and luscious scarred lips.
Stupid sexy giant alpha.
Magnus steps closer, and my resolve wavers immediately.
I suppose it would be okay if we kissedplatonically. People do that, right? We could totally kiss a little as long as it’s friendly kissing. With tongue.
He sets a bag on the table, making me jump. I was so busy staring at his lips I didn’t pay attention to what he was doing.
The scent of food distracts me from the tension between us. I could go for a mid-morning snack if that’s what he’s offering.
I stick my head in the bag, but it’s so dark I can’t tell what he brought.
Magnus makes a noise and grabs my shoulder, pulling me out.
“What’s this?” I ask, hazarding a glance at him.
Thankfully, the almost uncontrollable urge to climb him like a tree seems to have subsided.
“I like to make treats for Pete, especially in winter when there’s not as much available for him to forage,” Magnus says. “I’m sure he’d be just fine without me, but it makes me feel better to offer him food. I don’t want him to stress about hunting and gathering everything himself.”
He’s going to make me cry if he keeps saying things like that. It’s so sweet hearing him talk about Pete. It’s obvious how much he cares for him.
“I thought we could make his treats together since you like hanging out with Pete,” he says.
