Chapter 14
Fourteen
Otillie-James
S trat Wilmington was charming, sexy, and as our night went on, my body got warmer and warmer under his unwavering attention. I didn’t think any designated person had paid me this kind of attention, ever.
It was like he wanted to know everything about me. Maybe it was professional curiosity, but as the night went on, the casual touches got more and more frequent, until my skin felt like it was electrified.
Maybe I was just being sensitive. Possibly I needed to get out more. Because there was no way this gorgeous Omega was flirting with me. I must be misreading his body language.
“Tell me more about your Lancelot,” he asked lightly. “You said he’d been unhoused when you met him.”
I stiffened, ready to defend Lance again. Actually, Truett had thrown in that little tidbit earlier in the night, and had completely ignored me when I kicked him. “He was. Now he lives with me. He saved my life, and I owe him for that.”
But Strat didn’t seem to judge. “We all owe him for that. What’s he like?”
My cheeks flushed pink. “Kind. Quiet. Maybe stoic would be the right word. Polite. Disciplined, definitely. He was a former Marine, I believe.” Polite, to an aggravating degree at times. “Handsome,” I added, and Strat’s eyes danced.
He grinned. “I’d like to meet him one day.”
“You should come around this week for dinner,” I offered. “We’re having a cookout with friends on Saturday, if you want to join us?”
He gripped my fingers and squeezed lightly. “I’d love that.”
I bit my lip as I looked down at where his long fingers covered mine. They were pretty hands. The kind of hands you fantasized about running over your body or fisting silk sheets.
Fuck, what was wrong with me? If I was getting my period, it needed to skip to the chocolate-bingeing, hot-water-bottle stage already, because my libido had gone off the rails.
We were interrupted by the server coming over to artfully compile the dessert course on the table in front of us. Right there, on a shiny piece of plastic, they put elaborate chocolate swirls, biscuit crumbs, fresh fruit, and that was just the garnish.
Truett bitched under his breath about fancy restaurants, but I knew he had a sweet tooth and would be diving into this table dessert as soon as the server left.
Strat’s eyes danced with delight. “I am absolutely going to devour this. I love sweet things.” He held my gaze as he said the words, and I realized he actually was flirting with me. This wasn’t me misreading signals at all.
Strat Wilmington wanted me.
Holy shit.
I’d never had an Omega flirt with me before. I was Unshown. Omegas weren’t interested in Unshown.
It wasn’t that the Unshown were badly treated. After all, we made up sixty percent of the world’s population, though only six percent of the upper class of society. No, we weren’t badly treated—we were just Unshown.
We were just average at most things.
We just smelled normal.
We just had normal anatomy.
We were just… never quite enough.
So this was definitely an anomaly.
Truett cleared his throat, and I realized I’d been sitting here, gaping at the man before me. Giving an awkward chuckle, I hoped my face wasn’t as red as it felt.
“I like sweet things too, but no one would ever accuse me of being sweet. Maybe a little salty. Like that one time I put salt in my cookies instead of sugar. That was shocking.” I picked up one of the tiny little cubes of dessert. I didn’t even know what it was, but I stuck it in my mouth to stop the words. The flavor burst on my tongue, and my eyes went wide. “Holy crap, this is amazing .” I turned to Truett, picking one up and stuffing it between his lips before he knew it was coming. “Taste this!”
He reared back, but eventually started to chew, his face lighting up in pleasure. Man, he’s handsome.
I looked over at Strat, who was watching us both intently. Shit. Maybe I’d misread this situation entirely. Maybe Strat wasn’t flirting with me. Maybe he was flirting with Truett.
That’d make sense, because they had some serious tension between them. I’d thought it might be professional tension, but maybe it was sexual tension.
I tilted my head at Truett, realizing I didn’t actually know if he was into guys. He and Sonny didn’t seem like a couple. They didn’t touch any more than most guys who were best friends, which mostly was inappropriate jokes about touching each other’s dicks and wrestling in a display of Alpha-ness. But as they’d gotten older and grown out of it, there hadn’t been any indications they were lovers.
We would’ve all happily accepted it if they were. I knew they’d both had girlfriends in college, which had kind of burned at the time, and I didn’t like to think about it too much..
Truett gave me a disgruntled look. “It’s good.”
I gasped. “It’s better than good. It’s sweet and salty and a little tart. The balance is mindblowing. Strat, try one and back me up!” I implored the Omega, who was looking between us with a grin now.
“Will you feed me one too, Otillie-James?” He fluttered his eyelashes, and I had the distinct feeling he was laughing at me. I straightened my shoulders, raising an eyebrow in challenge before picking up the little cube of truffle between my fingers and holding it out to him. Smirking, he leaned forward and took the bite from my fingers, his full bottom lip brushing against my skin.
Fuck. Is it hot in here?
Pulling back, he closed his eyes and chewed slowly, his tongue coming out to clean up the small crumbs of chocolate that were perched there. I was transfixed. The restaurant could burn down right now, and I’d be too focused on watching Strat enjoy his dessert to evacuate. My whole body felt flushed, so I knew my face had zero chance of not looking like a hot mess.
I needed to go home ASAP. I needed to grab every vibrator hidden around my room and engage in a battery-operated orgy. I cast a quick look at Truett, who was also focussed on the Omega in front of us.
Yeah, Truett Heathstone thought Strat Wilmington was hot. He wanted to sit in a tree and do a little K-I-S-S-I-N-G. They’d make a cute couple. Or throuple, I guess, if you added in Sonny. Did Sonny like boys too?
The sudden idea of the three of them having sex had my whole body clenching.
Fuck. Okay, time to go.
Looking at my non-existent watch, I pushed back my chair. “Oh crap, is that the time? I need to work tomorrow so I better head home. You two stay, enjoy dessert. Strat, it was lovely?—”
“Sit down, OJ,” Truett commanded, just short of a bark. “I’ll get dessert boxed up.”
It was a testament to how flustered I was that I didn’t tell him to go get fucked. Instead, I just planted my ass back in the chair.
Truett got the server’s attention, and the guy came over with a small container, placing the pieces of dessert—and some of the other components that I hadn’t even realized were dessert—inside. We all sat in heated silence as he finished, and I gulped down the remainder of my champagne.
Tugging at the neckline of my silk dress, I wondered if it was actually just hot in here. Maybe my body wasn’t on fire just yet. Truett and Strat seemed to be having a battle of wills over whose black Amex was going in the little folder to pay, but eventually, Truett won. As we waited for his card to be run, the silence at the table was loaded. I didn’t look at either of the men beside me, instead checking my phone for messages.
There was one from Sonny, showing him curled up on the couch with kittens sleeping across his chest. Beside him, a little out of focus, was Lance, kittens resting on his abs. I smiled softly, my heart feeling full.
Sonny: Fed the babies. Putting them down for their nap. Unrelated question—how many cats do I have to own before I’m labeled a crazy cat man? It’s seven, right?
I laughed. We only had six kittens, but I purposefully didn’t remind him about Sparks, the half-feral cat with one eye and a bent tail, who hid from everyone but me. He lived outside with Gert and now Spartacus.
“Who has you smiling like that?” Strat asked softly, and I turned the phone around to show him the photo.
His lips curled into a lopsided grin. It was boyish and sweet, and kind of sexy. “Edison Chalmers was always too attractive for his own good. He doesn’t need to add baby animals to the mix. It’s just unfair.”
Truett cleared his throat again. “If you’re both done?” He stood, holding my chair for me as I rose. My head felt a little whirly, but I hadn’t had that much champagne. In fact, I’d probably had so much food that I looked like I was having a food baby, which would have soaked up every ounce of alcohol in my stomach.
I snorted a laugh, leaning over to Truett and patting my stomach. “Thank goodness I’m wearing a wrap dress after that meal. Otherwise, people would think I’m pregnant.” His eyes dropped to my stomach, but he didn’t laugh, just indicated that we should leave.
Strat held out an arm. “Allow me to escort you to the valet.”
I wrapped my hand in his elbow, trying to ignore the envious looks of the people around me. They could tell I was Unshown, and the whispers told me that they didn’t understand why I was with the two men currently bracketing me.
Still, I was Otillie-James Baler. I didn’t cower. So I lifted my chin, met their eyes, and dared them to say something.
Truett might be an asshole, but he was a protective asshole, and whether he wanted to or not, he would come to my defense every single time. Not that I needed him to defend me. I could kick ass all on my own.
But no one said a word. They’d silently judge, but would never go up against two people so well connected.
Strat dropped my hand as he gave over his valet ticket, and I tried not to pout. He was just being polite. Those Southern manners were indoctrinated into us early. He turned to me as the valet walked away.
“Thank you for being such an amazing dinner companion, Otillie-James. You definitely make up for Mr. Tall, Dark, and Broody over there.” He lifted his chin at Truett. “I’ll give you a call later in the week when the Rock Hill PD have organized their lineup. I’ll accompany you personally. Perhaps we can get lunch afterwards?”
I tried not to grin. “I’d like that.”
He turned to Truett. “It’s always a delight, Heathstone.” He was clearly teasing him, and I wasn’t sure if the flush on Truett’s cheekbones was anger or a blush.
“Indeed, Wilmington. Until next time.”
Why did that sound like a promise? The tension was definitely sexual. Oh man, I couldn’t wait until I got Truett alone. I was going to grill him about his past with Strat.
Strat’s Audi pulled up, and he kissed my cheek. He smelled like summer, like sea salt and champagne and long nights. I wanted to roll in his scent. “I’ll be seeing you, Otillie-James.”
Then he was gone. Holy shit.