7. Casey #2
I quickly reached for his bag and took it under my arm so he could find his keys without dropping it. “Didn’t sleep great,” I admitted. It was nice to say something that was true, and David seemed nice. His warm smile was so much like Marshall’s. “Thought the run might do me some good.”
“It’s the quiet, right? That’s what everyone from Hanford always says.
Not enough noise. But then again, your mattress is older than I am, so I’m not surprised you didn’t get any sleep.
I keep telling Pop to replace it.” Unlocking his truck door, he took the bag from me and set it on the front seat.
“Dina asked for some new tools to play with. She said our tool kit at the station is embarrassing.” He leaned against the truck door and pulled his cap off, brushing through his short red curls before putting it back on.
Marshall and his brother almost looked like twins this close up, but David had more of his father in his face, with an aged, almost pained look deep in his eyes.
“Will you guys be around later? Dina’s been begging to sample Pop’s cooking, and she wants to meet you. ”
“Actually, we’re heading out after breakfast. Give her my best, though. It was great to meet you, David.” I held my hand out to him, and he pumped my fingers twice before letting me go.
“Been a pleasure, Casey. You take care of my brother, okay?”
That was the plan.
Giving me a quick salute against his cap bill, he got into his truck and drove away, driving right past a stop sign without stopping. Cop privilege.
My side ached as I ran the next block, but my libido still raged like an unquenchable fire. Maybe I should get back to the house and take my inhibitors. The last thing I wanted was to push Adam into a rut when he smelled how ripe I was.
The house was still quiet when I got back inside.
I quickly tossed my shoes off at the door.
A quick sniff inside my shirt made my nose curl.
I needed a shower after that run. I pulled my sweaty shirt off and tiptoed to the stairs, already sliding my pants down my hips.
Hopefully, no one was awake yet, and I’d be safe to use the downstairs bathroom without anyone seeing…
Mr. Wilson.
He stood by the kitchen sink, stirring something in a large bowl.
His pheromones hit me right in the face, erasing all the effort I’d put in to calm myself down.
Fuck, he smelled so good. Earthy, rich, and potent.
A scent that made me weak at the knees. I dropped my wet shirt as something between a squeak and a moan escaped my lips.
Damn it. I couldn’t keep it together for one second around him. So much for taming my hormones.
“Hey,” I said hurriedly, so he wouldn’t think I was going to stand there like a dumbass. “Mr. Wilson.”
He slowly turned to acknowledge me, those bright green eyes staring right into my soul before looking away like I wasn’t even there.
A shudder ran through me, one that almost made my knees collapse.
He gripped the mixing bowl like it was about to slip out of his hands, even though it was firmly placed on the counter.
“Don’t call me that.”
“S-sorry,” I stuttered. My eyes darted away, down to my shirt on the floor.
Right. I was standing there shirtless with my sweatpants falling down my hips.
I was half naked. My lips almost muttered another apology, but it didn’t seem like he even noticed.
Except that he had. His eyes were pinned on my bare stomach, and the trail of hair beneath my belly button.
Oh. Oh, no. Could he tell how hard I still was, even after running across town?
Or how hot it made me, knowing he was staring at my body?
Keep it together. “Is there something else you would prefer me to call you?”
His eyes slowly shut, and he let out a noise too, something between a growl and a grunt. “No, there is not.”
“What should I call you, then?”
He growled low, his eyes flying open and fixing me with a scorching glare. His grip on the bowl tightened. “If you call me Mr. Wilson again, I…”
He’d what? He didn’t finish the threat, but it hung between us as if he’d spoken it out loud. I almost wanted to poke the bear, just to hear what he thought was a fair punishment for calling him Mr. Wilson.
No, I told myself. Ignore him. Go about your day like he’s not here. That’s all you can do. It’s what you have to do.
Rather than speaking, I grabbed my shirt off the floor and raced upstairs to change.
Marshall was still asleep, and he didn’t wake up when I grabbed some fresh clothes.
My pants barely zipped from how hard I was, and they were more than a little uncomfortable no matter how much I adjusted them.
I returned to the kitchen anyway and tugged my shirt down to hide the obvious bulge in my pants.
It didn’t work as well as I hoped, but maybe Adam wouldn’t notice.
I should’ve stayed upstairs, but my stomach was grumbling after that run, and I needed a suppressant to get myself under control. At least, that’s the excuse I told myself so I wouldn’t feel bad about wanting to be near him. Just the smell of his earthy pheromones in the air was like magic.
At the end of the kitchen counter sat a familiar pill caddy that every non-beta household had.
There were four pill bottles of suppressants there: three large ones for Alphas, and a medium-sized bottle for omegas.
Someone had brought my bottle from Marshall’s bedroom and placed it there for me.
The caddy fit the four bottles so perfectly.
I traced my fingertip over the lid. Marshall’s mother.
It fit four bottles because hers used to sit here too.
I looked up to see Adam watching me from the sink as I mused over the pill caddy. I quickly grabbed my bottle and opened it, pouring one pill onto my hand. Before I’d even popped it into my mouth, Adam’s voice rumbled in my ear.
“Take two.”
My hand paused halfway to my lips. “Excuse me?”
His firm, unyielding glare sent a shiver down my spine. “Are you trying to destroy my control, omega?”