Page 72 of With A Little Luck
“You and I need to talk.”
My lips purse.
I’m not sure I like the sound of that.
There’s a lull in our conversation as I make Quincy a plate. The kitchen has barstools and a small breakfast nook, but neither will be comfortable for Quincy. As such, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and guide her to the living room to eat.
I frown, squinting at King as he lounges in the chair I was going to take. Settling for the couch, I put everything down on the end table and get myself situated.
“Come along,” I say, patting my thighs. “I’d like you to sit in my lap as I feed you this time.”
Her lips push together, and I almost think she’s going to deny my request, but she comes to kneel over me.
“Don’t hover.” I grab the plate, setting it on the arm of the couch.
Quincy finally lowers onto my lap, and it soothes the unsettled feeling that I’ve been battling all morning. The baby belly pushes against my stomach, and I find myself smiling at the contact.
I offer a bite of scrambled eggs, and her nose wrinkles. She still takes it, swallowing and reaching for the bottle of water I brought with us.
She takes a swig and places it down on the end table. “I eat eggs occasionally, but I usually prefer to have ketchup with them to hide the taste since they’re not my favorite.”
“I can check the refrigerator?—”
“No, it’s fine. Just for next time,” she says with a laugh.
God, that smile will be my undoing.
My entire adult life, I’ve been able to tell, at least objectively speaking, I’m attractive. It’s always seemed like more of a nuisance, mostly because I don’t enjoy being touched.
Or I didn’t before meeting Quincy.
When someone flirted with me, I ignored their advances or pretended I didn’t notice them at all. Well, unless I could use it to my advantage to complete a job.
This has left me very ill-prepared for how to make Quincy want me. The soul match connection is on my side, but I don’t like the idea that she may only end up with me out of a biological response.
“These are the types of things I need to know.” I twist and switch to cutting up the French toast. “My memory is excellent. If you tell me something once, I won’t forget.” Holding out the fork, I wait for her to take the offered bite.
The way her lips wrap around the tines of the fork makes my cock jolt, and I frown. I normally have much better control of my body, but Quincy’s sweet scent is too close to maintain my normal level of control.
Her long dark hair falls over her shoulders, cascading down her breasts, and I swallow audibly. I brushed my fingers over her cheeks as she slept and teased my hands down her soft arms, but I do have some boundaries.
No matter how hard my cock became, I never crossed a single line that I didn’t think we could come back from.
Whoever cooked breakfast this morning went for sausage over bacon, and I slice the patty into several pieces. Jabbing a chunk, I slather it in the syrup and offer Quincy a bite.
She takes it and lets out a contented sigh as she stretches to take another drink.
Once she’s done, she refocuses on me.
Something in her energy says I won’t like whatever comes next, and I’m tempted to keep her busy with more French toast.
“Well, get on with it, then,” I murmur, feeding myself a bite of the eggs since she didn’t seem too enamored with those.
The omega huffs, planting her hand on my chest just over my heart.
“Thank you for bringing me that pile of your clothes last night. They really helped settle my system.” She smiles, but it’s tense. “Did you put cameras in the pack bedroom?”
I should have given her another bite…
