Page 4 of Omega's Forbidden Heat
Maddock snorts and she peers at her watch, swearing under her breath. She has to be at the pub by noon for her shift and she was planning to get some more of her assignment for uni done first. She jumps up into the saddle and turns the horse towards home. When they reach the bridle path, she cuts into the paddock, and kicks her heals lightly against Maddock’s ribs, urging him onward with a click of her tongue. He responds eagerly, increasing his pace and picking up his legs until soon they’re cantering over the rough ground, the air streaming over her face and ruffling her hair. She grips the reigns, leaning right down into Maddock’s neck and bouncing in the saddle with the pound of his hooves, his fur dampening with sweat.
It feels glorious, liberating, freeing, and it drives Jack Johnson from her mind.
Well, almost.
Jack Johnson had noticed her. Finally. And an excitement bubbles in her stomach. She’s not sure what that means.
* * *
Seven years ago
She can see them in the living room, playing computer games and demolishing a packet of crisps, the munching and laughing filtering through the doorway. She hovers in the hall, peering through the crack in the door just out of sight, watching them.
She likes to watch him because he is beautiful and the sight of him does strange things to her insides. New, exciting things. His long curly hair falls into his face, and he brushes it aside, his biceps flexing and the tendons in his arms tightening and her gaze drifts down to his hands gripping the controller, his thumbs flicking backward and forwards over the buttons. His hands are larger, bigger than Finn’s, bigger than her Dad’s. But then he’s taller than them both, by a half a foot at least and larger.
She’s mesmerised by his long thick fingers, the size of his palm, imagining those hands clasping at her waist. She shifts, her skin growing warmer.
They are talking about girls, in between mouthfuls of popcorn, and expletives in response to the video screen. She doesn’t understand all that they are saying, but she knows it is dirty, rude, and her cheeks burn furiously and that point in her stomach, already buzzing, swoops.
Spying on them like this is forbidden. If they catch her, Finn will yell at her and chase her away with threats but it’s worth the risk. She knows there are many girls who’d pay dearly to sit here with her. She hears them giggling in the girl’s toilets; the older ones gathered around the mirror reapplying lip-gloss and concealer. Everybody is in love with Jack Johnson. It’s hard not to be.
Once or twice there’s been a girlfriend who’s tagged along to hang out at their house as well and she’s stared in fascination at the way his hands have left the controller and slid over the girl’s waist, down to her butt, felt pangs of what she thinks might be jealousy when they’d mashed their lips against each other’s, tongues thrust into mouths.
The staircase groans as she wriggles in her seat and Finn’s head snaps towards the door. He spots her and scowls.
“Oi squirt. What you doing?” he shouts and Jack’s eyes follow his, the piercing blue discovering her.
She springs to her feet. “Nothing,” she says, her voice squeaking in her throat and her eyes falling to her feet. She keeps very still, hoping they’ll return to their video game and ignore her, but Finn leaps to his feet and stalks to the doorway with a menacing look on his face.
“Bugger off, will you?” he hisses in her face, shoving her down the hallway. “Stop lurking about like a bad smell and annoying us.”
She peers up at him, towering above her. “Can I play?” she whines, unable to help it. It’s Saturday afternoon and she’s bored, her mother is down the stables mucking out and her dad is listening to the rugby on the radio. She’s too old for her barbies and her dolls now, but too young to wander down the road to her friend’s house. There’s nothing to do but observe the boys.
He laughs. “It’s an 18. Mum would kill me. Go away will you?” The door shuts on her but she can hear their voices through the woodwork.
“Your sister is so annoying,” Jack says, and she can hear the irritation in his voice. Her heart sinks a little and her eyes smart. She rushes up the stairs and into her bedroom, flinging herself onto the bed.
Their laughter floats up through the floorboards though and it adds to her misery. She rolls onto her side to stare at the wall and picks at the paintwork with her thumbnail.
Chapter Three
Afar off buzzing noise drags him from his sleep and he blinks awake, his brain scrabbling in the dimly lit room for several minutes before he remembers where he is. His old bedroom; the dark blue lamp shade staring back at him from the ceiling.
He scrubs his hand over his face as the blaring noise rings out again. It makes the pain in his head thump. His mouth is bone dry and his lips cracked and he rolls over and takes several large gulps of water, then collapses into the mattress and screws up his eyes, the pain in his head intensifying.
If he ignores the noise, hopefully it will stop. But it doesn’t and swearing to himself, he pulls himself up and hunches over his knees on the edge of the bed.
He shouldn’t have drunk that last can of lager last night. His stomach is sloshing with acid and it burns the back of his throat. But what else was there to do? Alone in these empty rooms is more bearable with alcohol coursing through his blood, taking the edge off the sting of sadness that weighs him down.
Grabbing yesterday’s t-shirt off the floor and struggling into it as he stumbles down the stairs, he hears his aunt’s voice through the letterbox and groans.
“Jack? Jack? Are you in there?” She leans another time on the doorbell and he winces.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he shouts, his voice hoarse.
She’s waiting on the doorstep, a deep frown on her face as he draws open the door. It’s a hazy Autumn’s morning and the sunlight hits his eyes, and he draws up his hand, shadowing his eyes.
She waves her own hand in front of her face. “Woah, Jack.”
