Jed #3
I’m not sure how someone can be so physically intimidating and so painfully sweet at the same time, but Aiden’s nailing it right now in the passenger seat of my car.
“I think you’re a little drunk, Aid.”
“I think you’re a little drunk, Jed,” he parrots back to me, ending my name with an exaggerated duh sound, his curls bouncing as he says it.
“I had half a beer four hours ago and just drove you home, so I hope not,” I say, pulling up outside his apartment building and turning off the engine.
Aiden closes his eyes and leans back against the headrest, taking a deep, tired breath. “Are we there yet?” he murmurs.
“That’s why we’ve stopped moving,” I chuckle.
“Have we?” He frowns. “Still feels like we’re moving to me.”
“You’re cute when you’re drunk,” I say.
His frown deepens, his eyes still closed. “No one ever calls me cute. I’m too drunk—I mean, I’m too big to be cute.”
“You can be big and cute,” I say, turning off the ignition so it suddenly feels eerily quiet. “They’re not mutually exclusive.”
“Hmmm.” There’s a long silence, where I’m staring at Aiden and he’s got his eyes closed, his breathing steady. I’ve never noticed how long his eyelashes are before. “Hey, Jed?”
“Yeah?”
“Before I go…”
“Hmm?”
“Wouldyoumaybescentmeagain?”
He cracks an eye open as I chuckle at the nonsensical babble. “You’re going to have to repeat that. I have no idea what you just said.”
“Jesus Christ, Jed,” he says, sounding more like his usual sardonic self, but his cheeks are flushed when he says it again, more clearly this time: “Would you, maybe, scentmeagain?”
He rushes through the last part, but this time I catch it, and my heart just about flops over itself when I realize what he’s asking.
“It was nice, earlier,” he says, so softly it’d be hard to hear it if it weren’t completely silent in the confined space of my car. “Even before the… other stuff. That was nice too, though. And I feel sort of weird.”
“Of course I will,” I breathe without hesitation, kind of wanting to wrap him up and carry him upstairs. “C’mere.”
I lean in, over the console, and Aiden’s hesitant to do the same until his nostrils flare and he takes a deep breath of the pheromones I’m pushing out.
Then he moves closer, until our cheeks are nearly touching and the scent glands on our necks are an inch apart.
My hand finds his, pressing our wrists together. His fingers slot through mine.
His breath is warm and sweet against my ear as he sighs gently, and I can sense the moment the tension leaves his body, his orange blossom scent deepening as mine wraps around him. When we pull back just a fraction, he’s so close I can see the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose.
His gaze drops from my eyes to my lips. And fuck, I want to kiss him.
My heart is hammering an unsteady rhythm against my ribcage, and it occurs to me that despite everything else we’ve done tonight, I still don’t know what his lips feel like against mine.
And I know that he wants it too; the soft heat behind his eyes, the way his lips part ever so slightly, his head angled just so.
All it would take would be for me to lean in, and…
I pull back. I clear my throat. Because as much as I want to, Aiden is more than a little tipsy, and he’s been made to feel like shit by his dad, and tonight has already been a mindfuck for both of us. So the last thing he needs is an alpha who’s meant to be his friend taking advantage of that.
A flash of something sad crosses over Aiden’s face, before a yawn cuts it off.
He hums sleepily. “Do I have to get out of the car now?”
“If you want to go to bed, then yeah,” I say.
Aiden makes a soft, disgruntled noise, but flops closer to the car door and manages to tug on the handle.
“Need me to make sure you get inside okay?” I say as he opens the door, because I’m more than a little worried he might not be able to get his own keys in the door.
“No. If anyone tries to get me, I’ll beat them up.” He makes a karate chop motion and kicks one leg in the air, and it makes my heart squeeze so hard I think I stop breathing for a full five seconds.
And I’m not sure why, but that’s the moment.
Not smelling his scent for the first time, or watching him come, or the night spent holding his hand and feeling like the luckiest alpha in the room.
No, it’s watching Aiden karate kick his way back to his apartment like a cute, drunk, oversized toddler that makes me realize that I might be in trouble.
Because my heart feels like I’ve just gone ten rounds in the ring, and all I can think about is doing this again. Seeing him again, and smelling him again, and making him laugh again.
But I don’t feel this way about clients, and I don’t feel this way about other omegas. Ever.
So I stay in my car until I see the light come on in his apartment, so I know that he hasn’t broken his ankle on the stairwell or dropped his keys down a vent.
And then I stay there for a little while longer, smelling his orange blossom scent clinging to my truck’s upholstery, and hoping it doesn’t fade.