Page 25 of Rocked By the Alpha
Then he rolls to his side, taking her with him, panting and wet with sweat.
“Shit.” He grins at her. “My bed is going to smell so good after this.”
Chapter 9
The oil spits in the grill. He pours in the thick batter, the mixture hissing as it hits the base. He leaves it heating while he returns to the strawberries, twisting out the stalks and adding them to the bowl. Behind him the batter bubbles and he strides to the fridge, hooking out the bacon and laying four rashes in the pan.
From the hallway he hears soft footsteps and looks up when the Omega enters the kitchen. She’s dressed in one of his dark t-shirts and the hem brushes across the top of her thighs. Automatically, his gaze skips down her long legs and then back up to her face.
“Something smells good,” she says, leaning against the door frame.
“It better. I’m cooking up a feast here.”
“You’re certainly making a mess,” she says, glancing around the kitchen. The batter ingredients are scattered over the counter, a trail of flour runs across the surface, and a dirty bowl with whisk stands next to the empty shells of several eggs.
“What can I say, I like making a mess.”
“Is that because someone else comes to clean it away?”
“Nah, Chrissy comes twice a week. She won’t be here for another day.”
“You’re telling me a prince like you isn’t waited on hand and foot?”
“I can’t be doing with any of that shit. Anyway, I don’t like things to be too clean and tidy. I don’t want to live in a museum.”
She casts her eye over the open-plan kitchen. In one corner there are sofas and a giant TV and in another is a large kitchen table lined on either side by a bench. He sees her take in the stack of magazines, the paperwork piled on the table, a couple of guitars lying across the sofas and one of his jackets hung on the back of a chair.
“You and my mom would not see eye to eye on that. I grew up in a museum. You got shot if you didn’t put your plate straight in the dishwasher the moment you’d finished your last bite of dinner.”
“Well, you can go mad here, Omega. Dump your plate in the sink. Or leave it on the table.” He flips around and, swiping a spatula from the drawer, maneuvers the pancake around the base of the grill before flipping it over. “How d’you like your bacon?”
“Burned.”
He grins. “Burned it is. There’s coffee in the pot.”
She sidles into the kitchen and starts to open cupboard doors. “Ooo,” she croons, “they open and shut so smoothly.”
“That floats your boat?”
“Uh huh.”
“You took your time coming down, were you snooping?”
“Yep.”
“Did you find anything interesting?”
“Just trying to work you out.”
“And what did you decide?”
She shrugs. “There was one room …”
“Oh yeah.”
“Soft lighting, huge mattress, rugs and pillows … It’s not a—”
“Nest, yes it is.” Three of his four sisters are Omegas. He wanted somewhere safe they could come if they ever needed to, especially in a heat. But he likes the little hint of jealousy he sees spark in Ruby’s eyes.
