Page 12 of Forbidden Taste
He bends to gather our clothes, my gaze following every delightful curve and expanse of naked skin. Riley’s absolutely gorgeous, the perfect vision of an Omega, a little extra in all the right places. Heseems to know it too, the way he struts through his practice room before handing me my clothes, and then keeps talking as he slips into his pants. “Friday night,” he says, tugging his hoodie over his head, “they gave me an opportunity to graduate a whole year early. But it’d mean not a moment of breathing room. I’d spend all my time practicing with professors or around Benjamin.”
I stand, slipping my pants on, the zipper loud in the quiet. “Is that not something you want?” I ask, stepping closer, my shirt still dangling from my hand.
Riley lets out a little frustrated sigh as he stomps over to the piano, fingers brushing the keys absently. “I don’t want to bleed for my music. Not the way they want me to. I’ve been practicing this same damn song for months and can’t get it.”
“I know. You always stop.” I’ve heard him through the window, that same halting melody always stopping at the same place.
“Because I’m blocked. I can’t ever get it.” His fingers are still hovering before he slides onto the piano bench and starts playing. The notes spill out, the piece I heard a few days ago. I close my eyes, letting it wash over me but it’s different this time.
Where he usually stumbles, he keeps going, the music flowing seamless and deep. It draws something out of me—a hum I’ve never made before, rising from my chest unbidden. I see it in my mind: a forest, the two of us, moving together like a dance, leaves rustling, sunlight filtering through. My voice weaves with the melody—there are no words, just the whisper of a song—and I’m falling in love with the sound, with him.
The music stops abruptly and I open my eyes. I’m not sure when I drifted closer but Riley’s standing on the piano bench, his face inches from mine, his brown eyes wide with wonder. “Sweetie, you didn’t tell me you could sing. You sound like a fucking angel.”
My cheeks heat as I step back, realizing the sound I was making. “Because I’ve never done it before,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. Music doesn’t run in my family, not really and it’s never been one of the things that my brother or I explored.
He reaches out, caressing the side of my face. “I guess I’m going to get all your firsts, huh?” he teases, Riley leaning in for another kiss. He pauses, his lips grazing against mine as if he wants me to take control.
I swallow hard, my hands finding his waist, pulling him against me. “I hope so,” I murmur, closing the distance, focusing only on the sweet Omega in front of me. In a matter of hours, I’ve gone from self doubt to confusion to being unable to fathom the thought of walking away.
I’m still terrified of what’s going to happen but I think I just found my new obsession and it’s most definitely going to get us in trouble.
ten
RILEY
I haven’t had this much fun in months, my fingers flying over the piano keys, the melody pouring out of me like a river finally breaking free. Whatever was blocking me is long gone, the emotions I crave when I play pouring steadily from me.
We cleaned up the mess on the lounge earlier, wiping away the evidence of our passion, and now Leo’s sprawled across it, his long legs stretched out, his head propped on one arm as he works through a project. His notebook balances on his lap, pencil slack in his hand, and he’s half asleep, his sea-green eyes heavy-lidded as he drifts off.
He looks like an angel from where I am, just adding to the melody that’s singing around the room. For a while, he couldn’t stop touching me, his lips grazing my neck, my jaw, my ears in light, possessive kisses, his hands brushing my skin like he needed to mark me as his. It’s a trait I’ve seen in Omegas before, that tender claim, but with Leo, it’s confusing—his scent so fucking sweet, like spicedapples dripping with sugar, yet laced with a dominance that pins me in place.
The memory of his fingers bruising my waist as he fucked me flashes through my head, my fingers stumbling on the keys. Leo jolts up in response, his head snapping toward me.
“Fuck,” I mutter, shaking my head as he blinks at me, concern etching his freckled face. “I got distracted. I’m okay. I just…” I wave him off, my hand trembling slightly as I dive back into the melody, forcing my focus. The music flows again, smoother now, and I lose myself in it, the room fading to just the sound and the feel of him nearby.
But our luck never lasts long, the door jiggling and interrupting our peace. There’s a click and then it bursts open, Professor Jameson stepping inside. She’s not happy in the slightest as she gazes around the room, her eyes locking on Leo.
He scrambles to his feet as he shoves his notebook and pencil into his bag, the music dying beneath my fingers with a sour, jarred note. But unlike a few days ago when she caught us, he doesn’t bolt. He steps up to me, his massive frame looming close—almost protective, a shift from the man I knew before today. Jameson’s gaze narrows, her lips thinning. “I thought I told you that you were a distraction, Mr. Woods.”
Leo’s lips curl up in a snarl, a low, dangerous sound rumbling in his chest, the duality of my mate becoming clear, a switch flipping from Omega softness to Alpha steel. My instincts scream at me to stay quiet, to lean into his quiet strength, to let him shield me from her wrath. He’s a wall between us now, the heat of him radiating against my side.
If this were anywhere other than the academy, I’d let this play out but here, Professor Jameson will find some fault with him, someway to twist this against him. She’s an Alpha, after all, and she doesn’t bend for anyone, least of all an Omega who dares to growl.
I rest a hand on his arm, gently pulling back to grab his attention. “Leo,” I murmur and his eyes flick to mine. There’s a whole storm there—wanting to protect me, to claim me, but teetering on the edge of control. I want everything he’s offering but unfortunately, right now, I have to play the reality we’re both stuck in.
Professor Jameson steps closer. “Mr. Hart, I assume you’ve been practicing, not wasting time with… distractions.” Her eyes flick to Leo before landing back on me.
“I’ve been practicing,” I say, keeping my tone even, though my heart’s pounding so loud I’m sure they can hear it. “Leo’s just… keeping me company.” It’s a weak excuse, and her arched brow tells me she doesn’t buy it for a second.
Jameson’s lips press into a thin line, her eyes narrowing as she studies him. “Mr. Woods, I suggest you leave before I decide your presence here warrants further discussion with the administration.”
I squeeze his arm harder, my nails digging in just enough to pull his focus. “Sweetie,” I whisper, so soft only he can hear, “it’s okay. I’ve got this.” His jaw ticks, his eyes locked on her for a long moment before he lets out a frustrated exhale, and steps back, his bag slung over his shoulder. But he doesn’t leave—not yet. He lingers, his gaze flicking to me, and I see the question there, the worry, the need to know I’ll be alright.
“I’ll see you later,” I say, my voice firm despite the tremor in my chest, giving him permission to go. He hesitates for a moment longer before leaving, the door clicking shut behind him. I’m already itching to text him, to pull him back into this bubble we’ve created. But first, I turn to face my professor, ready to address thesituation. I’m so over being tossed around by what everyone thinks I should do or who they think I should be.
“I know why you’re here,” I push out. “And I’m not taking the opportunity. I don’t want to run myself ragged for something I don’t even really want.” There’s no way Professor Jameson missed what went on in here, it smells like a whole honey and pie factory but I’m not going to bring it up if she doesn’t.
Her nose wrinkles as she folds her arms across her chest, her brow arching. “You’re not taking it because of Mr. Woods? Being with another Omega—people will talk.”
