Page 47 of Run Omega Run
I needed him. The thought startled me with its sharpness, but there was no denying it. I needed his heat against the cold edges of my days, his certainty where I faltered, his closeness wrapping around me until the ache in my chest eased. The craving wasn’t just in my mind; it pulsed low in my body, insistent and undeniable, leaving me restless with want.
When I closed my eyes, I could almost feel him again, the solid warmth of his chest, the roughness of his hands, the way his nearness steadied the storm inside me. It was dangerousto want like this; but I couldn’t stop. Dante’s touch hadn’t just stirred me. It had woken something I couldn’t put back to sleep.
The patched-together dining table had been transformed by necessity and hope into something that looked beautiful. Mismatched plates and silverware somehow created charm rather than chaos when arranged around the steaming serving dishes that filled the air with aromas richer than anything we’d managed in months.
Dante carried the main course from the kitchen. It was pasta in a sauce that had simmered to deep perfection, vegetables roasted until their edges caramelized, bread with a crackling crust that felt like a celebration in itself. The children followed behind him in a proud little procession, each balancing their contribution to the feast.
I trailed last, still dusted with flour despite brushing my hair until I’d given up the fight, and carrying the pastries we’d salvaged from our earlier disaster. My cheeks were hot, though I told myself it was the oven’s fault. But when his eyes found mine across the laden table, the heat rushed deeper, spreading out until my chest tightened and my body ached for more. That look, that steady, direct look, was threaded with something more... desire, need, hunger. It made me remember his touch. It made my body yearn for it all over again.
“Everyone sit,” Dante instructed, settling into the chair the children had somehow assigned him. His voice carried easily, calm and certain, the kind of tone that made people listen. My body reacted before my mind could, as my spine straightened, my skin prickling. He wasn’t just a man giving instructions. He was a man you wanted to obey.
The first bites silenced everyone, and I held my breath without realizing it, waiting for their verdict. Then came the joy. Loubie Lou was first as she described her meal as colors in the rainbow, Manny declaring the bread made “happy sounds,”Dylan devouring more than I’d seen him eat in weeks, even Susie lowered her guard to ask questions with bright-eyed curiosity.
I should have been focused on them. But my gaze kept straying back to Dante. The way his hands moved with quiet authority, confident and capable. The way his shoulders filled the space beside the children, broad and protective. The way his mouth curved into the faintest, satisfied smile when one of them laughed.
Heat coiled low in my belly, unspooling with every glance. I could feel him in the room even when I wasn’t looking, his presence tugging at me, pulling at something primal. My thighs pressed together under the table, an instinctive response I fought to hide, but the ache only deepened when he glanced at me again.
And then after their meal, the children hugged him, pressing against him like they’d known him forever. His arms curved around them with ease, strength wrapping so gently it made my heart ache. Something hot twisted inside me at the sight—longing, yes, but also need. What would it feel like if those arms closed around me? If that strength pressed me down, claimed me, kept me?
Our eyes met across the table, children tucked against him, and his wink sent fire racing through me. My pulse thudded in my throat. I looked away too fast, pretending to fuss over Manny’s chin, my hands shaking with the effort to keep them steady. But I couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips, no matter how hard I tried.
He saw it. I knew he did. And the significance of that awareness sat between us, hot and heavy, impossible to ignore.
Later, the children’s laughter drifted into the living room, leaving the kitchen quiet, except for the rapid beating of my heart. My hands moved automatically as I filled the sink with hot water, steam curling around me, but all I could feel was Dantebehind me. His presence pressed against the air itself, warm, steady, tugging at me until I wanted to lean back and sink into him.
“I’ll wash, you dry?” I asked, though my voice trembled with more than nerves.
“Perfect division of labor,” he said, stepping up beside me. The nearness stole my breath as his sweet scent grounded me, wrapping me in its embrace.
We worked in rhythm, plates passing between us, but every brush of his fingers against mine sent sparks racing through me. Every graze of his arm made my body tense, wanting more, craving it. The heat inside me climbed higher with each small touch until I was flushed with it, restless and aching.
“Thank you,” I murmured, not looking at him because I didn’t trust what he’d see in my face. “For today. I’ve never seen the children so happy.”
“They’re good kids,” he said, voice low, but his fingers lingered against mine when he handed me the next plate. The pause was deliberate, and it shot straight through me.
Before I could breathe again, he scooped up a handful of bubbles and blew them into the air. Tiny spheres floated and spun, catching the sunlight.
I laughed. “My turn.” I sent a spray of suds at him, laughing harder when they clung to his shirt, his arms, his nose.
He retaliated, gentle but thorough, bubbles settling in my hair and across my cheeks. I laughed until the sound caught in my throat, because suddenly he wasn’t just playing. He waslooking at me. Really looking.
The air shifted. My breath hitched. His gaze dropped to my mouth where bubbles clung, and the heat in his eyes rooted me in place.
His hands, rough and intimate, closed firmly around my waist. The strength of his grip made my body tremble with need, had me leaning into him as if pulled by gravity itself.
And then his mouth was on mine.
The kiss stole my breath. My thoughts scattered, and my balance wavered. Soft at first, then deeper, hungrier, until I was clutching his shirt with desperate fingers, dragging him closer. My body surged against his, heat rushing through me so fast it left me dizzy.
He tasted of warmth and want and something that made me ache harder, made me cravemore. The pressure of his lips, the sweep of his tongue, the strength of his arms around me... I melted into all of it, moaning against his mouth without shame.
The world narrowed to us. His hands, strong and claiming me. His chest, solid beneath my palms, while his kiss deepened until it felt like he was consuming the very air I breathed.
When we broke apart, gasping, his eyes locked on mine, dark with the same need burning through me.
“Heather,” he whispered, his thumbs stroking circles into my waist, grounding and igniting me all at once. “When was your last heat?”
The question sent another rush of fire through me. My voice came out low, raw. “I... I can’t remember. I was taking suppressants, but... I couldn’t keep them up.”
