Chapter 18 River #2
"I locked the door when I came in." I did. The second I saw her heading for the office. Because I knew—I knew—that once I got her alone, I wouldn't be able to keep my hands to myself. "No one's coming in, Bea. It's just us."
Her pupils blow wide, her scent spiking so sweet and thick it makes my mouth water. "That's—that's very presumptuous of you."
"Yeah?" I brush my nose along her jaw, breathing her in. "Should I unlock it? Let you walk out of here? Because I will, if that's what you want." I pull back just enough to meet her eyes. "But I don't think that's what you want."
For a moment, she just stares at me, her chest rising and falling with quick breaths. Then her hands tighten in my shirt and she yanks me down to her mouth.
The kiss is immediate fire—all teeth and tongue and desperate need. She tastes like the coffee she had this morning and something sweeter, darker, uniquely her. I groan into her mouth and she swallows it, kissing me harder.
My hands find her waist, her hips, lifting her onto the desk in one smooth motion. She gasps against my lips but doesn't pull away—if anything, she hooks her legs around my waist and drags me closer, until we're pressed together from chest to thigh.
"Fuck," I breathe against her mouth. "Bea—"
"Don't stop." Her hands are in my hair now, tugging just hard enough to make me growl. "Don't you dare stop."
I don't. I kiss down her jaw to her throat, finding that spot where her scent is strongest, and I bite down—not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to make her cry out, hard enough to leave a mark. I suck at the tender skin, claiming her, and her hips roll against mine so hard I see stars.
"That's it," I murmur against her skin. "Take what you need, sweetheart. Use me."
She whimpers—actually whimpers—and does exactly that, grinding against me with increasingly frantic movements. I can feel her heat through both our jeans, can smell her slick starting to soak through, and it's driving me absolutely insane.
"You're so fucking perfect," I tell her, my hands sliding under her shirt to feel bare skin. She's so soft, so warm. "So beautiful. Been thinking about this all week. Been thinking about you."
"River—" Her voice breaks on my name. "I'm—I need—"
"I know." I kiss her again, swallowing her gasps. "I've got you. Let go, Bea. I've got you."
And she does. She comes with my name on her lips and her nails digging into my shoulders, shaking apart in my arms. I hold her through it, kissing her throat, her jaw, her temple, feeling her pulse racing under my lips.
"Holy fuck," she whispers eventually, her voice wrecked.
"Yeah."
"That was—" She looks up at me, eyes still dark and satisfied, and slowly registers the state I'm in. The way I'm shaking. The obvious bulge in my jeans. The damp spot on my thigh from her slick. "Oh. Oh shit, River, you didn't—"
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You're—" She reaches down, palms me through my jeans, and I have to lock my knees to stay upright. "Fuck, you're so hard."
"Yeah, well." I catch her wrist gently, stopping her before I lose what's left of my control. "That's what you do to me, sweetheart. But this wasn't about me. This was about you."
"That's not fair—"
"Life's not fair." I kiss her forehead, breathing through my mouth because her scent is still making me half-feral. "But watching you come? Feeling you soak through your jeans onto mine? That was better than getting off."
"Liar."
"Not lying." I brush her hair back from her face with hands that aren't quite steady. "What are we doing?"
"Right now? Making out in the stock room like teenagers." She touches my jaw, her fingers soft. "Generally? Building something. All four of us."
"Your scent's been changing." The words come out before I can stop them. "Getting sweeter. Richer. I don't—I'm not sure what it means, but—"
"You think it's my heat." It's not a question.
"I don't know." Honesty feels important right now. "Maybe? I've never—" I stop, realizing how inexperienced I sound. "I've never been around an omega going into heat before. But the way you smell, the way I'm reacting to you—it could be. Or it could just be that I want you this badly."
She swallows hard. "If it is... I'm not ready."
"You don't have to be ready." I cup her face gently, making sure she's looking at me.
"If it is your heat—and we don't know for sure—we'll take care of you.
All three of us. However you need. You won't go through it alone.
But if it's not, if it's just your body responding to us.
.." I brush my thumb across her cheek. "That's okay too. "
"What if I don't know the difference?"
"Then we figure it out together." The certainty in my voice surprises me. "We'll know when we know. No pressure either way."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
"That we'll take care of you?"
"That I'll like it too much." Her voice goes small, vulnerable. "That I'll want to keep you."
Everything in me settles at once—like a lock clicking into place. "Bea. We're already yours. You couldn't get rid of us if you tried."
She stares at me for a long moment, her guard dropping completely. Then she rises on her toes to kiss me—soft and sweet and devastating.
"We should get back out there," she murmurs against my lips.
"Probably."
Neither of us moves for another minute.
Finally, reluctantly, I step back. She looks thoroughly debauched—lips swollen and red, hair mussed, a mark blooming on her neck where I sucked too hard, her scent still broadcasting satisfaction and arousal. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Your shirt's wrinkled," she points out, reaching up to smooth the flannel. Her hand trembles slightly.
"Your hair's a disaster."
"Whose fault is that?" But she's finger-combing it back into some semblance of order, trying to look presentable. It's not working. She looks like she just got thoroughly made out with in a stock room.
Good.
"Mine. Completely mine. And I'm not even a little bit sorry."
She rolls her eyes but she's smiling. "We smell like sex."
"Yeah, we do."
"Everyone's going to know."
"Good." I catch her hand, lacing our fingers together. "Let them know. You're ours, Bea. Might as well make it obvious."
Her scent spikes warm and pleased, even through the embarrassment.
We emerge from the stock room to find the store still blessedly empty. Bea heads straight for the bathroom to fix her hair properly while I adjust myself behind the counter—still hard, still aching, still able to smell her slick on my jeans. It's going to drive me insane for the rest of the day.
Worth it.
My phone buzzes.
Pack Chat
Seth: How's the shift going?
I glance toward the bathroom, then back at my phone, and can't quite suppress my grin.
Me: Interesting.
Grayson: You're a terrible liar. What did you do?
Me: Nothing we're going to talk about over text.
Grayson: Fuck me.
Seth: Is Bea okay? Her scent's been getting stronger all week.
Me: She's fine. Better than fine. But yeah, her scent's changing. Getting sweeter, richer. Could be pre-heat? I'm not sure. Never been around an omega going into heat before.
Grayson: You think it's soon?
Me: Could be days. Could be weeks. Could be nothing. I don't know what I'm doing here.
Grayson: We need to talk. All of us. Make a plan just in case.
Me: Yeah. We do.