Page 60 of Feeling the Heat: Part One
Ambrose: Of course, sweetheart. I’ll gladly give you all the hugs you need.
Ambrose: I know better than to tell you not to worry because that never helps. Instead, I’ll say that we’re all nervous, so you won’t be alone in that.
Camille: Did you talk to them already?
Ambrose: I texted our pack chat as soon as you left. We’re all scrambling to get ready for you. Which is entirely my fault for the spontaneous invite, but I couldn’t stop myself. My alpha hated the thought of waiting any longer.
I frown at my phone, despite my omega being flattered. I don’t want them upturning their lives for me.
Camille: If another time would work better, I totally understand.
My stomach sours as my omega protests the possibility of not seeing Ambrose and Jackson again ASAP.
Camille: My omega doesn’t like it, but she can deal.
Ambrose: Your omega sounds almost as needy as my alpha.
Ambrose: He’s usually pretty calm, but your whole appointment he was screaming at me to have my way with you on the exam table.
My cheeks warm at the image—one I absolutely was having the whole time, too.
Camille: Hah, they’re both are too horny for our own good.
Ambrose: Professionally, yes. But medically speaking, research has proven that listening to them would have significant health benefits.
Camille: Oh really? So are you going to write me a prescription for sex now, too?
I instantly regret sending that reply, but it’s too late to take it back.
Ambrose: If that would help you feel more comfortable letting your omega take the reins sometimes, absolutely. I can fill it as many times as you need.
Another message pops up almost immediately.
Ambrose: Forgive me, that line was awful. I’m not good at flirting.
I chuckle, his self-deprecation endearing me to him even more.
Camille: Me either. But I liked it.
Ambrose: Well, good. I’ll bring my prescription pad home with me.
Ambrose: Not that I’m expecting to have sex tonight! We’ll take things at whatever pace you’d like. Tonight is for getting to know each other.
Ambrose: Speaking of which, I’ve been asked to find out what you like to eat and if you have any issues with pets. Jackson is making us dinner.
I’m glad for the shift in topics, because if I keep thinkingabout sex with Ambrose and his pack, I’m going to burn up with need here at my desk.
Camille: Oh, you don’t have to do that! I can eat before. I don’t want to be a bother.
Ambrose: We’re feeding you dinner. Even if my alpha didn’t hate the idea of you not eating with us, Jackson would have a fit. He loves cooking for people.
I never would’ve imagined the sexy, strong beta to like cooking, but then again, I know nothing about him other than that he’s sweet and amazing in bed. For all I know, he could be a professional chef who occasionally moonlights as a heat minder.
Camille: Okay, if you insist.
I start to reply that I’m happy to eat with whatever, but delete that.
When I’ve dated in the past, I never wanted to be seen as high-maintenance, so I made myself as unopinionated as possible. Which, I realize, is also annoying as hell when you’re forced to be the one to always make decisions, but it was a defense mechanism. If I didn’t care strongly one way or another, then they couldn’t judge me for liking or disliking something.
