Page 67 of The Rejected Omega

He opens the passenger door for me and helps me in, making sure I’m all tucked away and buckled before shutting the door.

I kick off my heels and rub my aching feet.

Connor slides behind the wheel and pulls off the curb. The engine purrs.

"Thank you."

He doesn’t respond. Tension rolls off him in waves. Is he mad at me?

When he misses the turn for my apartment, I glance over at him.

“Where are we going?”

“To mine.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

Well. Couldn’t argue with that logic.

We sit in silence for another minute.

“Do you have food at your apartment?” he asks.

“Ugh. No.” I haven’t had a chance to go grocery shopping amid the chaos.

“That’s why.”

His hand is resting on the gear shift, and I take it and fold it in mine. “Okay. We’ll pretend like you didn’t come up with that reasoning after the fact.”

Connor flashes me a look.

I collapse against the seat, relishing the seat warmers heating my bum.

“Sleepy,” I murmur.

He squeezes my hand. “I know, baby.”

I nod off on our drive to his place, only waking when the engine goes quiet and the headlights cut off.

I grab my heels by the straps and open the door, then pause before getting out. It’s a long way from the low sitting passenger seat to standing, and I’m still dizzy. Then Connor’s there, lifting me into his arms. He carries me over the threshold to his apartment like he’s bringing home his bride, and it stirs something forbidden inside me.

I nuzzle into his neck, right by his scent gland. I might drool a little. Connor tenses beneath me.

“Did you get taller?” I ask as he sets me down on his couch. He’s always been huge, but right now my face is even with his crotch.

“You’ll have to measure for me.”

He untangles my strappy heels from my hand and takes inventory. “Where’s your phone? Your keys and wallet?”

I shrug. “Roy was holding them for me while I danced, but I lost track of him.”

“I’m gonna kill that fucker.”

I giggle. Drunk Lana finds that incredibly funny for some reason.

“You can’t!”

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