Page 68 of Feeling the Heat: Part One
My slack jaw snaps shut when Ambrose kicks me under the table. I glance over to find him glaring at me, and give him a sheepish smile.
The old man is keeping his cool a lot better than me, but he can’t hide the flush on his cheeks that shows the sound affected him too.
I adjust myself surreptitiously under the table, and turn my attention back to Camille as her eyes flutter open.
She grins at me. “Okay, I’m really glad I didn’t ask for something cooler.”
“Cooler? Like in temperature?” My brow furrows. “Is the food still too hot?”
“No, no, I mean something less basic. Mac and cheese isn’t really a sexy or cool favorite meal to have, but this is so delicious I don’t even care about seeming boring or unhealthy.” She gathers more of the mac and cheese on her fork and brings it to her mouth, eyes closing with pleasure at the second bite.
There’s a swell of pride in my chest knowing she likes my cooking, which only makes my cock harder. I’ll cook her anything she wants.
“Screw that. Always ask for what you like,” I say, waving off her concerns. Yeah, the carb and dairy heavy meal will mess with my macros, but sometimes you have to live a little.
I glance down at the enormous portion I spooned out for myself. Or live a lot.
I may be intense about my gains and physique, but my usual guilt at not sticking to my meal plan is entirely absent tonight. All that matters is that Camille is happy, the food is delicious, and things are going well.
The relief at giving myself permission to enjoy the food is unexpected, but welcome.
It’s even better when I taste the dish for myself, and am instantly reminded how fucking good carbs and cheese and salt and butter taste together. I let out my own moan. “Shit, I think I might come.”
Ambrose shakes his head at my crass words. “For fuck’s sake, we’re trying to eat,” he mutters.
Camille giggles at both of us. “Guess mac and cheese is sexier than I thought.”
I shovel more into my mouth and nod, letting out a muffled sound of assent.
Ambrose glares at me, then turns his focus to Camille, clearly wanting to move on from this topic before I say anything else about having a food-induced orgasm. “So, how was the rest of your work day, Camille?”
She visibly winces at his question, and all the humor between us evaporates. Ambrose and I go stock still.
“What happened?” I ask, my words coming out rougher than intended, but all I can think about is finding the source of what at work made Camille react like that and taking care of it.
Her brow crinkles. “Oh, uh, nothing.” Her eyes drop to her plate. “Just your typical end of the week stress. Wanting the day to wrap up so it can be the weekend.”
It’s clearly a lie.
Ambrose gives Camille a soft smile, but I can practically feel the tension radiating off of him. “We don’t know each other well, and it’s okay if you’re not comfortable discussing it, but I’m always happy to listen if something is bothering you.” He glances over at me. “And Jackson is a decent listener when he’s interested in the subject. Which he definitely is, because it involves you.”
I grumble at his assessment, even though it’s accurate.
Camille’s eyes flick between us, clearly conflicted about bringing up whatever had her wincing like that. Her plastered on smile falters and she sighs, then picks up her glass of wine to take a sip. “My omega is making work really difficult,” she confesses, then lets out a humorless laugh. “Well, she’s making everything hard, but work in particular is a total shitshow.”
Ambrose frowns. “I can’t imagine how difficult of an adjustment this is for you, Camille. Are people giving you a hard time about your new designation? Are you getting the accommodations you need?”
Her brows pinch together. “No, no, it’s not that. No one, uh, has said anything about my designation. I’m just a mess, and my boss has been even harsher than usual, and everything feels so muchharderthan it did before.”
I hate how defeated she sounds. A fierce protectiveness rises within me. “Well, if anyone at work ever gives you a problem because you’re an omega, let them know your lawyer will be in touch.”
“My lawyer?”
I nod. “Yeah. I’ll get them sorted out.” I swore I’d never work in that soul-crushing field again when I quit the firm, but for Camille, I’d do it in a heartbeat.
Camille snorts and shakes her head, turning to Ambrose. “Wow, he’s even cockier than I thought, thinking he could pull off pretending to be my lawyer.”
A smug grin curves across my lips. “I wouldn’t need to pretend, gorgeous. I may not have practiced in while, but my license is still good.”
