23. Kallis #2
Despite what Artie has said, Aspen’s words still ring inside me.
It would only be a week of opening myself up to them, like an experiment.
Then I’d go back to Aspen and see what she thought.
It wouldn’t cause any harm, right? She told me not to think one, five, or ten years into the future, but it does feel like this is a moment that could change me.
Though it would be a good way to prove I am beyond the pull of our match.
I stare at him, watching, waiting in case he makes a move, but his smile is cheery as he offers me the wasabi chocolate, Goldie. His scent is truly mouth-watering, and I shudder as potent, freshly cut grass swirls in front of my chest.
I nearly roll my eyes as I take the bar, but he won’t let it go. My brow furrows just as he grasps my wrist, and I gasp as he suddenly tugs me toward him.
“Artie, what are you—” But I choke as he spins me, gripping my stomach to bring me against his body, and molds himself to my back. My instinct to struggle flares up as panic claws in my chest. It’s just like it was with Orso, when I was fighting to get away.
But then Artie purrs.
Pleasure instantly floods me, warmth pouring through my body.
At eight inches shorter than me, his head just reaches my shoulders, and my doctor’s coat means he has to hold tight for me to feel him properly.
His cheek presses against my back, and light rumbles vibrate through my spine to my chest as he nuzzles between my shoulder blades, his purrs growing louder.
He’s released the bars, so I clutch them to my chest. His free hand slips farther, his thumb hooking the waistband of my pants as his fingers dent my thigh. He pauses there, and my breath freezes as he holds me.
If it had been anyone else, I would have started to shut down. He might not have been shirtless like Orso was when he caught me, but his closeness is intense enough that my mind goes blank, and all I can feel are his knees pressed against my legs.
His scent wafts up to my nose, so luscious that I almost moan. I don’t know what he’s been doing with the bar, but it’s as potent as the day he licked my pussy.
“Sorry, I know it’s a huge risk, but I need to take it,” he mumbles, the point of his nose digging into my shoulder blade. “Mathan and Orso have already gotten to hold you like this, and I just wanted to try.”
He inhales deeply, and the loud purr that falls from him is so delicious that I feel it curl in my core.
I’m captivated. It doesn’t matter how far apart we are in years or the difference in our heights; something about Artie holding me in my nest is inspiring a rightness in me that I can’t explain.
“I’ll go gently, okay?” he murmurs as he caresses my stomach. “I just want to hold you, that’s all.”
“Then why are you rubbing against my ass?” I growl because it feels so good that my awkwardness is setting in.
“It’s practice,” he chuckles as he grinds harder, and my body responds too quickly. Warmth traces my breasts and feeds through my veins; my heart speeds along, throat dry, asking for something to quench my thirst, needing the alpha who holds me.
I have to push him off, but the second his hand creeps up my torso and his other pulls my waistband away from my hip, need flares in me.
I moved to stronger suppressants after the last incident in my nest, so there should be no chance of my perfume or slick escaping.
But they’ve proved there’s a first for everything.
I breathe with him, trying not to writhe in his grasp and show him how much I like making him happy. An urge is bubbling inside me, not just to scent mark him in return. I want to turn around and stroke his hair while I kiss him lightly to tease him.
Artie has always been on the attack, talking about how I belong to them, and he took control as he spread me and made me come. But what would he do if I held him?
“You know, I think I’m in love with you,” he says, swaying us like we have all the time in the world to dance. But it’s not as if I’m pushing him away.
Even though my heart skips a beat, I don’t believe him.
There’s no possible way that Artie could love me when we barely exchange two sentences a day and have only been intimate once.
Most of the information I know about him is from medical reports and online searches, and I can’t imagine he knows more than what appears in my Philadelphia General biography or articles I appeared in with my parents.
“A scent match isn’t enough to foster that kind of connection, Artie. Loving someone and wanting to possess them are two entirely different objectives.”
“Why can’t they be both? Don’t you want to possess me and make me yours? And you can definitely love me at the same time. It wouldn’t be that hard.”
I think he underestimates how little experience I have with this type of relationship. But that’s another of the many questions they haven’t asked.
“You’re the one who is scent marking me, not the other way around,” I say. I’m running out of arguments already.
I still hear Aspen telling me to relax.
“All you need to do is let out a tiny bit of perfume. It’s not like you haven’t done it before. Come on, Bee. I just want to smell your honey.” His voice grows muffled as he presses his nose against my back again.
“I’m taking scent and heat suppressants, Artie.
And, technically, I’ve known you less than two months,” I follow up weakly.
His warmth seeps through my jacket, and his tight hold is enough to make me soften into him.
I am very sure that if I were facing him directly, my responses wouldn’t be so measured.
“It only took me a minute to realize who you are to us. I didn’t even need to scent match with you; I just knew that you’re our omega,” Artie says as he releases my waistband, and my tension eases, if only slightly.
It was more the buzzing anticipation that came with the thought that he could go further. But his hand travels to my left wrist.
I let him move my arm, the bars rising, the gift tag spinning in the air as it creeps closer to my nose.
His thumb strokes the tendons of my wrist, and need trembles through me as he moves to the last trace of Orso’s bite.
Those small white scars wouldn’t be noticeable unless he knew what he was looking for.
“Mathan and I wrote the labels as well,” he says, and it’s enough to distract from his main confession.
My fingers twitch around the bar as I lift it to inspect the label.
To our treasured omega.
My jaw ticks at the words, and my instant assumption is that they can’t see me as anything other than their omega.
Even though I like the thoughtfulness and I want to sneak away every bar the three of them have made, I have to be a professional more than anything else.
“I think that’s enough for today,” I say coolly as I remove myself from his arms.
I force myself not to flinch as I turn to meet his hazy gaze. He looks as high as I feel from his scent.
“It’s hardly the ideal time to present this kind of gift. If you must continue this, we can speak tomorrow, after the game is over.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.” Artie pouts, and his cuteness nearly sways me.
“Understood,” I say, mustering myself to appear unfazed. Which is very easy to do, considering my anxiety has flared over the fact that not only am I late, but I now need to change my clothes.
I’m left shaken and needy from the exchange, and Artie simply smirks as he walks backward toward the door, never taking his eyes off me.
I assumed that because he was the youngest of the three, he was also the most naive, but there’s another side to him I need to watch out for.
I wait until the door has fully closed to release a sigh of relief.
I’m not made to be teased like that, and I wouldn’t have been able to endure the onslaught had he gone any further.
It would have been even worse if the three of them were there, and the thought leaves me trembling as I begin my search for fresh clothes.