Chapter 5
Chapter Five
OLIVIA
I’ve typed out and deleted exactly thirty-seven messages to Sawyer over a few days’ time. After leaving him with my request for help, I’ve spent time settling in at my new lab. We’re preparing for preclinical trials, so the whole place is buzzing with excitement.
We’re close to finding a cure. I’m sure of it.
What I’m not sure of is how to go about texting Sawyer, but the longer I wait, the longer I remain clueless. Most omegas my age have settled down with a pack. Some even have babies. I’m an overachiever failing at life.
Get it together, Liv. Send a message.
Right. I can do this. Nodding to myself, I flop onto my bed and chew on my cheek as I tap out a message and hit send before I can overanalyze it.
Hi, Sawyer. I hope you’re doing well. Are you able to meet Sunday night to discuss my proposal?
Dammit. It sounds like a freaking work email. Pinching my eyes closed, I groan and rub my forehead, cursing my awkwardness while I wait for his reply. Watch him see the message, remember I’m not his type, and never speak to me again.
Henry’s annual Friendsgiving will be so weird.
I’ll have to pretend like I didn’t ask him to teach me how to do everything.
He’ll show up with some gorgeous woman, probably a model type, and she’ll be super friendly.
Everyone will love her. Meanwhile, I’ll be single until I’m ninety and die with dentures.
My phone dings and my chest clenches in response. God, this is so nerve-racking. Peeking at the message with one eye, I brace for the worst, but as soon as I read it, both eyes open fully and I sit up straight.
SAWYER
Liv. I hope this message finds you before I do. I’m well. I hope you’re doing great. I’ve penciled you in for six o’clock. Bring your favorite snack and a bottle of water. Regards, Sawyer.
His teasing has a grin cutting across my face, but then I reread the last part and my nose wrinkles.
This better not involve aerobics. You know I hate sports.
Who do you think you’re talking to? I remember the great beach volleyball fail of 2016.
Oh, no. I’d blocked that memory out, but apparently my accidentally mooning everyone on the beach isn’t something he forgot.
You were sworn to secrecy.
Your ass is safe with me.
Speaking of ass, I should probably figure out how that stuff works too .
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
Sunday. Snack. Water bottle.
Wait. Are we doing ass stuff on Sunday? Do I shave? I heard some people bleach their asshole.
A call from Sawyer flashes across the display. I fiddle with a strand of hair and answer. “Hello?”
“First of all, we’re not doing ass stuff for your first lesson. Second of all, don’t you dare bleach that asshole.”
“Okay, but do I shave it?”
“Oh my god,” he says, voice strained.
Great. I haven’t made it to session one, and I’m already failing. Sawyer doesn’t speak for a few moments, and I wonder if he’s decided I’m not worth the trouble. “I’m sorry.”
“Liv, babe, what are you sorry for?”
The nickname caresses my skin, making my heart flutter. Wow. “Because I should already know what to do.”
He releases a breath. “Here’s what I think. Anyone who demands you bleach or shave your asshole is . . . an asshole. You decide what to do with your body, but you don’t need to do any of those things. Trust me, plenty of guys would be happy with you just the way you are.”
My cheeks are so warm. “I don’t know about that.” The last few dates I’ve gone on have been massive failures. The most recent, the worst. They wanted me to be someone I’m not.
Still, I don’t want to settle or change for a pack. Surely there’s one out there who will love me as I am.
“Try not to overthink it. Okay? Sunday will be low pressure.”
I chew on my cheek. Maybe low pressure for him, but he’s undoubtedly had sex. What does a guy who’s had sex before expect? I eye my laptop, an idea sparking.
“Liv?”
“I’ll see you soon,” I say in a rush, hanging up and flipping the laptop open.
A few things I’ve learned while watching more porn than anyone has a right to watch in a twenty-four-hour period.
One: they definitely bleach their assholes.
Two: knots are big and terrifying.
Three: an omega’s heat is possibly the most fascinating thing I’ve ever seen.
Four: I’m not even close to prepared to do this with Sawyer.
Even still, I slip into the babydoll dress I ordered, covering the slinky lingerie I bought as well.
Although I’m not nearly as done up as some of those porn stars, I admit, I look good.
I’ve swept my hair up into a loose ponytail, letting the front pieces frame my face.
I’m too embarrassed to let my mom see what I’m wearing, let alone Nigel, so I tug on a knee-length peacoat and place the four-inch heels in an oversized purse.
I’ll put those on once I get to Sawyer’s.
Adding in my water bottle and a bag of my favorite popcorn, I hurry down the stairs, thankfully avoiding my parents, and dash to where Nigel is waiting with the back door open. “Hey, Nig!”
“Evening, Livvy. Where are we off to?”
I rattle off the address, avoid his questioning gaze, and settle into my seat.
Nigel hesitates at the door but ultimately closes it and rounds the car, sliding into his seat. “How is Sawyer?”
Mortification burns my cheeks. “Fine. He’s fine. We’re just hanging out.”
Nigel hums. “Well, be sure to tell him I say hello.”
“Sounds good.” I yank out my phone and pretend to be absorbed in scrolling. Nigel doesn’t probe into what exactly I’m up to, and for that, I’m glad. I don’t know how many lies I could tell him.
When we arrive at Sawyer’s, he helps me out of the car, looking around with a guarded gaze.
The neighborhood is cute. Nothing like where I grew up, but I kind of prefer it.
The lawns aren’t perfect. The houses, while smaller, are charming.
Here, it’s not about showing off your money.
It’s about living. Mom could have used a little more of that and a little less of flaunting her cash.
She would have hated my flat in London.
Nigel clears his throat. “Are you going to stand there and gawk all day?”
“Was I gawking?”
He nods. “A little. From what I remember, Sawyer and his pack do well enough.”
“I’ll see you later?”
Nigel shakes his head. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
“That’s not—”
“I’m walking you to the door, Olivia.” He says my name like I’m in need of scolding.
There’s really no point in arguing with him, but I don’t want to give him a reason to suspect something fishy is going on. I simply beam at him. “Thanks, old man.”
Nigel huffs and leads the way.
Sawyer’s house is a basic two-story bungalow.
The painted gray bricks are lined with white trim, and flower beds surround the front.
I bet there are pretty flowers in the summer, but the cold has already put them into hibernation.
Nigel stops at the foot of the stairs and makes a show of turning to offer me his hand.
“A gentleman always helps a lady up the stairs.”
“And you are the gentlest of gentlemen,” I tell him as I set my hand in his.
He grins and guides me up the steps. Once we’re on the porch, he releases my hand and knocks on the door three times. Hard.
I shoot him a look, but he’s intent on the door.
Sawyer opens it, sees me first, smiles, then notices Nigel. “Nigel! How are you?” He goes for a hug, but Nigel holds his hand up. Sawyer awkwardly pauses and steps back.
“Olivia is the brightest and sweetest omega I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”
What is happening right now?
Sawyer rubs the back of his neck. “I know.”
“Good. Then you’ll also know that, while I’m only a driver, I can easily dispose of a body.”
“Oh my god,” I say with a gasp.
“Nigel, it’s not like that,” Sawyer tells him, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“I don’t care what it’s like. Break her heart, and you’ll regret it.”
“Wow, okay, there’s no need for that,” I say quickly, inserting myself between them and facing Nigel. “We’re only hanging out.”
Nigel gives Sawyer one last warning look before focusing on me. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but call me when you need me.”
“I’ll be fine, Nigel. Sawyer doesn’t bite.”
I swear I hear him mumble, Oh I bet he does, under his breath, but the old man pivots and heads to the car, leaving me thoroughly embarrassed with Sawyer at my back. I watch Nigel drive off and slowly turn around, nerves churning in my gut.
“Sorry,” I murmur.
Sawyer’s blue gaze bores into mine. “He cares about you. No need to apologize.”
I tuck my bottom lip between my teeth. His eyes drop to my mouth, darken, and he steps aside to let me in.
He’s blocking part of the doorway. My shoulder brushes his chest as I pass, and a soft rumble fills the air for three seconds before abruptly cutting off.
I pretend not to notice that he most definitely purred. Again.
Once inside, I set my purse on the ground and slip out of the jacket, handing it to Sawyer without looking at him.
I bend over and take off the flats, yank the heels from my purse, and struggle for a second to put them on.
By the time I straighten, my stomach is fluttering and my pulse is thrumming.
I smooth the short dress and turn to face Sawyer.
His eyes are fully dilated, and he’s so still, chest heaving as his gaze traces down my body, stopping at the shoes, and then slowly, filled with heat that makes my thighs clench, draws it back up. “What are you wearing?”
“A dress.”
“Fucking hell, Liv. Are you trying to kill me?”
I frown. I thought it was cute. This was what most of the women wore in those videos I watched. “You don’t like it?”
He drops the coat on the ground and closes the distance between us with two big steps, reaching for me but stopping at the last second. “Who else saw you in that?”
“No one.”
Exhaling, he nods to himself. “Good.” He takes me in again, rubbing his jaw.
I don’t understand his reaction. I can’t tell if he likes the way it looks or if he’s embarrassed I’d wear something like this. Clutching my hands in front of my waist, I stare up at him. “Is it okay?”
“Is it okay?” he parrots, eyes drifting down again before pointedly jumping back to my face. “Hold on.” He leaves me standing in the living room.
Way to suck again, Liv. I sigh, shaking my head, and take in the open-concept living space and kitchen.
It’s so masculine. No decorations. A little messy, but not enough to gross me out.
On instinct, I inhale and am immediately disappointed.
Sometimes I hate not being able to smell, but keeping my head about me has helped me pursue my passions. It’s been worth it.
Reappearing with a T-shirt in hand, Sawyer walks over and shoves it over my head and down my body, the hem of the shirt brushing along my thighs. He takes a step back.
“Fuck, that’s worse,” he rasps.
“What is happening right now?”
He tears his focus from my thighs. “I can’t think with you dressed like that.”
I tip my head. “Isn’t that the point? We’re having sex.”
Scrubbing a hand down his face, he takes a giant step back. His erection strains against his pants. Oh, good. He’s ready. I peel the shirt up, ignore the strangled noise in his throat, and toss it aside, realizing a little too late that I pulled the dress off too.
The slinky black bra barely covers my hardened nipples.
“Fuuuuuck.”
“That’s a good fuck, right?” I step toward him. “Where do you want me?”
His eyes hood and he drags his teeth over his bottom lip, shamelessly devouring me with his gaze. Warmth blooms in my belly. This is good. He’s clearly attracted to me.
I take another step, and he shakes himself, looking at the ceiling.
“Please put the shirt back on.”
“Won’t it get in the way? I want to watch.” Seeing a knot form in person for the first time is a requirement. No stone can be left unturned.
“Damn, Liv. You’re making it really hard for me to be good.” He turns around. “Put the shirt on.”
I frown, self-doubt surging hard and fast. Maybe I’m not his type? Not good enough? If your alpha isn’t practically rabid at the thought of knotting you, you’re doing it wrong. Mom’s voice is a cruel addition to my own internal criticism.
I’m obviously a lost cause. I’m practically naked in front of Sawyer, and he’s still rejecting me.
Chest hollow, I pick up the shirt and pull it on, ignoring the tears burning my eyes. “I’ll call Nigel,” I say with a sniff.
Sawyer whirls around, but I glance at the floor, too fragile to look him in the eye. I grab my purse and dig my phone out. My hands shake. Out of my peripheral vision, I see Sawyer approaching. Through blurry vision, I clench my jaw and pull up my messages.
“Hey, hey,” Sawyer murmurs, taking my phone and putting it in his pocket. “Liv, are you okay?”
Locking my jaw, I cross my arms and stare at his chest. “Fine. I can leave.”
Catching my chin, he tips my head until I’m forced to meet his gentle gaze. “Who said I wanted you to leave?”
“You don’t want to have sex.” My voice trembles. I hate it. Hate the lump lodged in my throat and the burn in my chest. I pinch my eyes closed, though a tear escapes, tracking down my cheek.
Sawyer brushes it away. The softness of his touch hurts. “Baby, I would love nothing more than to fuck you, but I want to do this right.”
My eyelids flutter open. “You want to have sex with me?” I ask with a sniff.
He brings his other hand up and cups my face, caressing his thumbs along my cheeks. “More than you know.” The earnestness in his tone tells me it’s true. “But our agreement was that I teach you how to be a pack omega, and that means more than sex.”
My exhale is shaky. “What do we do, then?”