Page 108 of Feeling the Heat: Part One
I come again, clamping down on his knot and cock and drawing even more of his release from him until I’m so full I could burst.
“God, Camille, that was…” Ambrose pants as his hips still, reaching up to cup my cheek with reverent wonder shining behind his eyes.
“Life changing,” I whisper.
A blissed-out smile curves across his lips. “Yes.” His mouth meets mine in a tender kiss as he rolls us onto our sides so his weight isn’t pinning me down. He strokes my hair and I melt, the afterglow of sex and the place we’re still connected making my omega the happiest she’s been since my heat. “Comfortable?”
“Yes. It’s perfect.” I want to say, this is perfect, but don’t because as wonderful as this moment was, I can’t help thinking how it could be even better with Jackson here. A smaller voice that I try desperately to ignore wonders what it would be like with their whole pack.
A lump forms in my throat, and I bury my face against Ambrose’s shoulder, unwilling to let that bittersweet thought ruin this moment for me. His purr rumbles to life, and for the second time, it lulls me back to sleep.
35
It’s fine.
Just walk over there and ask if we can have a quick chat in my office.
I do this all the time.
It’s not weird or suspicious to have an impromptu meeting with my employee.
No one will notice or care.
“Hey boss, you good?”
An overload of aftershave assaults my senses, and I realize Holden is staring at me as I linger in the open doorway to my office. I swear the annoying blonde alpha spends more time wandering around the office bothering people than doing his damn job.
No wonder DesigNation wanted to work with someone else. I would’ve fired him outright after I received the second complaint about his sloppy work and him missing client meetings, but technically, he doesn’t work for me. Some nepotism bullshit where he’s part of my team and I can assign him as Isee fit, but he isn’t really accountable to anyone but his uncle, one of the founders of Pulse.
Holden calling me “boss” with that smarmy smile on his face is always an unsubtle reminder of how I’m not actually in control. As if his general alpha bro posturing and overloud voice he uses to drown out others wasn’t bad enough.
I give him a curt nod. “Yes.”
I stare at him, unwilling to say anything more. Our alphas have a silent standoff, me looking at him blankly, waiting for him to go back to work, and him smirking like he knows some dangerous secret about me.
He doesn’t, and eventually that false bravado deflates. It takes all my composure not to laugh when Holden chuckles and shrugs. “Alright then, talk to you later.”
I hope not. He should be doing his damn job, not bothering me.
I nod again, and watch Holden as he sheepishly makes his way back toward his office. At least the favoritism that gave him his own office means he won’t be bothering anyone else while he’s in there.
With the annoying alpha gone, the stiffness in my spine eases. I roll my shoulders and push my glasses back up my nose, trying to get back into a relaxed headspace before I go talk to Camille.
I don’t want to fuck this up. Please let her see I’m not trying to be rude. Let her understand that I don’t hate her.
After Ambrose came home from his sleepover at Camille’s place, we had a pack meeting. Something we agreed to do after each date while the courtship is still fragile. Details don’t need to be shared, but we have an open time to discuss any feelings that arose during the date and any worries we might have. All of us are adamant we don’t go through the same destructivepain that previous attempts to add an omega to our pack caused.
Jackson ratted me out about the stress and jealousy he felt through the bond while we were having game night. I pretended it was just because of Ambrose being with someone else. Not the bizarre mix of that, plus fear that Jackson knows about my feelings for him, and futilely wishing I could be with Camille, too.
Once that was addressed, we realized these pack meetings won’t be enough. We’ll need to have discussions where Camille is there, too. Not that she needs to be privy to our emotional dumping sessions right away, but the sooner we try out incorporating her into casual pack time, the better we can assess if things will work.
So here I am, sweating through my shirt as I walk over to Camille’s office to invite her to a do-over of that disastrous first pack date. My hands tremble as I round the corner and she comes into view through the glass walls. The sight makes my gut twist, my alpha unhappy at her being on display for anyone who walks by.
Whose idea was it to have these fish tank offices with no privacy for the people working inside? How can my omega feel safe when she’s so exposed?
Notmyomega. My pack’s potential omega.
I set the boundary firmly back in place and straighten my tie as I ignore my alpha’s bristling.
