Andi #2
Now that I think of it, we were na?ve to think that this wouldn’t get out somehow, with how careless we’ve been. Sure, the crew all sign NDAs, but it only takes one anonymous tip to a gossip rag for everything to blow up in our faces.
Everett’s gaze scans my face. He can probably see me falling apart at the seams, but this could develop into an image crisis for both Beck and I. He knows I’m right.
“Fine,” he sighs, before turning his attention back to the girl. “You are not to leave our sight.”
The territorial part of my omega brain hates the thought of them paying any attention to her, but sacrifices must be made. I have bigger fish to fry. Like the way I think I’m one warm breeze away from bursting into an embarrassing puddle of tears.
I want so badly to yell back in her face. To call her names and say her skirt looks tacky and like she bought it off some cheap website that capitalizes on child labor across the world, but I don’t have the emotional strength to, and will that honestly make this situation any better?.
One day. I’ll get better.
Today isn’t that day, unfortunately.
“I’m not letting you stay here,” Eli bites out. He turns his gaze to the rest of the guys. “You guys make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid. I’m going to take care of Andi.”
“Put your phone away,” Cameron bites out.
It’s the last thing I hear before Eli walks me towards the back hallways and the greenroom.
I thought the trembling would’ve gotten better the further we got from her, but my body seems to take the lack of eyes as permission to freak out more.
Beck’s soothing voice, singing the last song from the album, plays on the speakers overhead. They’re crackly and lower quality back here, but any reminder of his presence is a comforting one.
“That bitch didn’t know what she was talking about,” Eli bites out, unlocking the door to Beck’s green room and shutting it behind us.
“She definitely—definitely thought she did,” I say, my voice strained, despite my best attempt at making a joke.
Eli tugs me down onto his lap on the sofa, his hand cradling the back of my head.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, petting me softly like I’m a startled animal. It helps. His hands are big and warm, and grounding in a way my body desperately craves right now.
“Thank you,” I say, nuzzling my face into the crook of his neck and breathing in his blood orange scent like I’m huffing laughing gas at the dentist’s office.
“No need to thank me. Sorry I couldn’t do more in the moment.”
“It really seemed like you were ready to throw hands,” I say, letting out a soft snort at the thought of a massive Eli squaring up against that tiny omega.
“I don’t hit women,” he grunts. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t fuckin’ tempted, though. She was really freaking you out.”
“Yeah,” I swallow hard past the lump in my throat. “I think it’s ‘cause she reminded me of my mom?”
“The name calling?” Eli asks.
“Mhmm. That and the way she was yelling and trying to get in my face.”
“Now I’m regretting not doin’ somethin’ more,” he bites out. “Your mom’s probably the only woman I’d actually deck if I had the opportunity and it didn’t fuck things up for you and Beck.”
“Seriously?”
“Is that even a question,” he huffs. “Of course. The kidnapping aside, she’s fucking batshit insane, basically tortured you your entire childhood, and she did all that shit to Edison.”
My expression softens as I blink up at him, seeing how serious he is.
He and my dad have been getting close. Edison has been getting close with all of my guys, but I don’t think I expected Eli and Edison to connect so easily.
I expected it from Cameron, considering the shared interest in filmmaking and videography, but Eli and my dad don’t have very many overlapping interests.
But my dad is good at being a dad. And I think Eli needs that.
“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” he huffs.
“Looking like what?”
“Looking stupid,” he teases.
“Shut the fuck up,” I say, rolling my eyes. “How immature.”
“It’s working as a distraction, isn’t it?”
“I don’t like this kind of distraction,” I pout, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Oh really? I can offer you a different kind,” the corner of his lips quirk up in a smug smirk.
“Are you offering your cock?” I snort.
“Yes,” he deadpans.
It’s ridiculous, and I’m sure I’m setting feminism back decades by being remotely turned on at this sort of exchange, but a thrill runs through me.
I guess I’m starting to realize I have a thing for sex in places that are a little risky.
Being bent over and pressed against the glass of Everett’s office awoke something in me. The idea of being caught or seen only added to the thrill.
If only Gina could see me now—her claims that I’m some wanton slut would have some grain of truth.
Well, screw her. She’d probably be a nicer person if she actually got screwed the way my guys have been screwing me. Because as much as she chases after alphas, they don’t often chase her back.
“What is it with you guys thinking your cocks are magic?” I huff, running my tongue along the inside of my cheek.
It’s an innocent gesture, most of the time. One I do when I’m thinking, but I’ve spent enough time around Eli to know that there’s only one thought running through his mind when he watches me do that.
His expression darkens, and his hands squeeze my hips.
“Aren’t they, though?” he growls.
And then he kisses me.
I melt into it, reaching up and running my hands through his hair.
He has a point, if it weren’t for him and the rest of my guys and their steady stream of orgasms, I wouldn’t have recovered nearly as quickly as I have.
But if I admit it, his ego will grow so huge that I’ll run the risk of losing him when we go outside. He’ll float into space.
So I answer by kissing him back, grinding my hips down against the hardness in his jeans.