Page 63 of Wild Omega

Her hair’s worked itself into wiry knots and I scrape a few off her shoulders, barely able to believe the gorgeous creature perched on my knees is my very own omega. “That sweater’s a really good look on you.”

She smirks, pure sultry seductress. “You just like that I neglected to wear pants.”

“That too,” I say with an unrepentant grin while squeezing her ass cheeks. “But I’m pretty sure you in my pullover is king.”

She plants a soft kiss on my lips. “I’ll keep that in mind, alpha. Now, what’s that delicious scent?”

“Food!” I tip her off my knees, and she chuckles as she rolls onto the couch, making zombie noises. I babble as I pull the bake out and flip the oven off, telling her about the ingredients and asking what she doesn’t like.

She frowns like it’s a question she hasn’t considered much. “Not sure, but maybe I’d like to be vegetarian?”

Silently I congratulate myself on leaving the bacon on the side as I bring flat-bottomed bowls to the coffee table. “Sorry, I don’t have a dining table. We, well, I usually eat here, if I’m home for meals.”

Red takes the bowl and my belly twists into a knot as she looks over the spinach, broccoli, and pasta bake with the cheesy white sauce oozing out into the side salad. I did my best to plate it up nicely. Her gaze flits to me and I feel like she’s examining the dusty, hidden corners of my soul. “You’re trying really hard, aren’t you?”

Shit, she’s reading me like a book. “Is that a bad thing?”

Her face softens, but she still looks super serious as she shakes her head and sets her bowl on the table. “Come.” She beckons me with a loose quiver of her fingers. When I set my bowl beside hers, she tugs me down and I settle on my knees before her.

Loose sleeves hanging over her palms, she reaches out and grabs my cheeks. “Rickon—” She hesitates, and I realize we haven’t discussed surnames.

“Jones,” I mumble. “Rickon Alexander Jones.” My birth date and Social Security number hover on the tip of my tongue in case she wants those too. Anything.

Her pink bow of a mouth flutters upward in the corners. “Well, Rickon Alexander Jones, I adore that you’re trying so hard and I’m super grateful, but you need to know I’ll accept anything and everything that you are. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her sincerity hits me straight in the heart. Has anyone fully accepted me? Ever? It’s too good to be true. I don’t have this kind of luck in my life. “What if I can’t protect you, or I pass wind in front of you, or don’t earn enough money?” Tears swim in my eyes and I swipe at my face in disgust. Now I’m showing even more weakness. “Maybe I snore.”

Red laughs, her eyes twinkling. “If you snore, I’ll sleep on the couch sometimes. If you don’t earn enough, I’ll earn more. And did you already forget about Fabby McStabby the fork?” She cocks her head and her lips quiver like she’s holding back more laughter. “And if you need to toot, how ’bout we go ahead and get the awkwardness over with now so you can stop worrying?”

My heart throbs and I feel like crying for real. I grip her knees tight. “Holy shit, I love you so much.”

Her eyes widen, and I clap a hand over my mouth, realizing I thought out loud. Well, isn’t what she’s saying roughly translating todon’t hold back? I reach up to touch her cheek. “I love you, Red. It’s true.”

She runs one hand through my platinum hair and nods, quietly accepting my declaration. I don’t need her to say it back. Not yet. Simply expressing myself and having it accepted is more than I’ve ever had before.

I stare up at her, memorizing every sharp line of her cheek and the beautiful tan tint in her skin that suggests a mixed heritage. Then I shake free of a daze and scoot back onto the sofa. “Food time.”

She picks up her bowl in both hands and lifts it. “Bless the maker and food. Bless our coming and our going.”

I sit stunned as she balances the bowl on her knee and digs in. “Um, why does that sound familiar?”

She loads pasta into her mouth, noisily sucking the longer noodles. “I stole it from that epic movie series about the—the things.” She waves her fork in the air.

“OMG.” I stiffen. “The sandworms!”

She grins in response and digs her fork back into the pasta.

I laugh. “I like it.” And I love that she’s a movie buff.

“Except you’re the sandworm.” She shoots me a sideways glance that’s both sexy and cute. Bugger me, I wanna do smoky eyes makeup on her ASAP. She’s gonna blow the film scene apart here in Laversham.

I grin, twirling pasta around my fork. “Well, I did kind of devour you.” We share a look that says we both enjoyed it, and then concentrate on eating. But I don’t last long because I’m eager to know everything about her.

“We got a little off topic, but you said you wanted an acting manager?”

She nods. “Yeah. I need a manager so I can get started with auditions.”

“Well, if you’re happy, I’m currently available. I can get you my resume after we eat. I’m pretty good and I know a few—”

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