Page 51 of Omega's Fire

“Basic biology.” His voice is steady, but the pulse at his throat gives him away. “Pregnancy hormones.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

For a moment, I think he’ll step away and break the spell. But instead, Leo does the unexpected. He closes the distance between us, one hand fisting in my shirt as his lips crash against mine.

The kiss is pure fire, explosive and demanding. It’s nothing like the desperate couplings of his heat cycle or the cruel goodbye he delivered before walking away from the cottage. This is pure Leo. It’s fierce and unapologetic, challenging me even as he claims my mouth.

My arms wrap around him instinctively, pulling him flush against me, mindful of his belly even as desire clouds my thoughts. His scent surrounds me, intoxicating in its intensity.

He breaks the kiss first, breathing hard, eyes wide as if surprised by his own actions. “This doesn’t change anything,” he warns, but makes no move to extract himself from my embrace.

I’ve heard that line before, but I’m not going to say that. We are so close.

“You want me,” I counter, my hands roam his back, memorizing the new curves of his body. “You want me the same way that I want you.”

His answer is another kiss, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that makes my knees weak. I back him against the desk, hands moving to his hips, lifting him onto the scarred surface without breaking the kiss.

“Lock the door,” he gasps against my mouth.

I reach behind me blindly, fumbling for the lock, miserable at stepping away even for a second. The bolt slides home and Leo’s hands are immediately at my tie, loosening it with impatientfingers.

“This is a terrible idea,” he says, even as he works the buttons of my shirt.

“Probably,” I agree, my hands sliding under his shirt, finding the warm skin beneath. “Do you want to stop?” I want him to admit he wants this.

His eyes meet mine, conflicted but certain. “No.”

“That’s what I thought.” I capture his mouth again, pouring months of longing and frustration into the kiss. My hands explore the changes in his body: the slight swell of his belly and a new sensitivity that makes him gasp when my thumbs brush his nipples.

“Too many clothes,” Leo mutters, tugging at my shirt impatiently.

We strip in instants and then he’s naked on my desk, the evidence of our child impossible to ignore.

“You’re beautiful,” I breathe, unable to stop myself from pressing a hand to the curve of his belly.

Leo’s expression flickers. “Don’t,” he warns. “Don’t make this about that.”

“This is about us,” I assure him. “Just us.”

My hands move to safer territory—the softness of his ass—as I reclaim his mouth. Leo responds with renewed intensity, his legs wrapping around my waist, pulling me closer, the hard evidence of his arousal pressing against mine.

“I’ve dreamed about this,” I confess against his throat, trailing kisses down to his collarbone. “About you. Every night since you walked away.”

“Shut up,” Leo groans, his head falling back to give me better access. “Less talking.”

I comply, focusing instead on learning his body all over again. I know the spots that make him shiver, the touches that draw out those small, desperate sounds he tries to suppress. His skin isimpossibly soft and responsive to every caress.

Leo’s hands are equally busy, dragging blunt nails down my back, squeezing my shoulders, tangling in my hair to direct my mouth where he wants it. There’s nothing passive about his participation. He takes as much as he gives, dominating even from his position on the desk.

“Come here,” Leo commands, reaching for me.

I step between his spread thighs, groaning as our bodies align perfectly. The sensation of his skin against mine is electric. We’re crossing a line we can never uncross. He’s the one who started this. There’s no heat and no cottage. He came to my office and he kissed me.

“Tell me what you want,” I murmur against his ear, hands running down his sides to grip his hips. “What you need.” I want to hear him say it.

“You,” Leo admits, the single syllable seeming to cost him. “Inside me. Now.”

The raw need in his voice nearly undoes me, but still I wait. I want to make him beg.

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