Page 110 of Feeling the Heat: Part One
I’ve spent over a year watching Camille, my alpha aching for her and self-preservation making me stay away. That image of her ass jiggling and flexing has shamefully starred in my thoughts as I’ve touched myself, fantasizing about grabbing the little slit at the back and tearing it up to the waist. Seeing that she has no panties on underneath and turning her ass pink for being such a dirty girl to walk around the office like that.
My cock swells at the pornographic thoughts, shame following swiftly on the heels of my arousal.
Stop it.
Stop thinking about her.
It’s wildly inappropriate, and nothing can happen.
Besides, my bond is open. Ambrose and Jackson will ask questions I refuse to answer if they feel me getting aroused at work.
I hold the door open for her when we reach my office, gritting my teeth and averting my eyes to anywhere but the curves of her body as she moves past me. Reminding myself that Camille thinks I’m an asshole.
Her discomfort at my hand sours any desire I have for her. I have no right to want her. Not after the way I’ve behaved.
“Thanks for agreeing to talk,” I say, taking my seat behind my desk as she delicately arranges herself in the chair on the other side. I don’t look when she crosses her legs, eventhough I know it’ll give me a view of her thick, creamy thighs.
Camille flashes a weak smile. “No problem. This… How did you put it? Thismergeris important to me.”
Heat floods my cheeks at the reminder of my feeble obfuscation of the subject of our talk. “Yes. Good. Same.”
Her eyes narrow slightly, searching my face in my moment of awkwardness. Can she see how hard it is for me to keep my alpha in check? Or does it still look like I hate her?
I’m not sure which option is worse.
I swallow hard and force the question out so I can get this one-on-one moment with Camille over as quickly as possible. “Are you free this weekend? We’d like a do-over.”
Her eyes widen. Clearly, that wasn’t what she was expecting.
I barrel forward. “Well, actually, I want a do-over. I’m embarrassed by my behavior last time. Things seem to be going very well with you and Ambrose and Jackson. I’d like to have the chance to show you it can work when we’re all…together.”
A small flush forms on Camille’s cheeks. Crap, that sounded like I meant together as in, all of us fucking.
“Not together like that! Like a pack. A platonic pack night. Or at least platonic from my end. Whatever you get up to with the others is a different story. You can stay the night with them and I won’t mind.”
Stop babbling!
I clear my throat. “A pack night,” I repeat, setting my face into what I hope is a neutral expression and not one that shows how nervous I am.
Her brows pinch together. “Are you sure? You seem uncomfortable about this.”
I am. But not in the way she thinks.
This would be so much simpler if I could admit how she makes me feel. That’d be incredibly selfish, considering I’m her boss and there’s nothing we can do about those feelings unless one of us quits, so I don’t correct her.
“Discomfort is part of the process. My happiness at how much joy you’ve already given Ambrose and Jackson far outweighs the awkwardness.”
I can tell she’s not convinced, so I decide to give her a kernel of my truth. “I like you, Camille. I want this to work, not as some self-sacrificing nonsense, but because you’d be a great addition to our pack.” I sigh, running a hand through my hair when I see there’s still a hint of skepticism in Camille’s shrewd gaze. “I’ve been an ass and you have no reason to trust me when I say that, but it’s true. Please give me a chance to show you I can be tolerable.”
A ginger eyebrow arches at me. “Just tolerable?”
I shrug. “Better to set expectations low. That way, when I exceed them, it’ll be a pleasant surprise for us both.”
That earns a laugh from her, the bubbly sound of it seeping into my veins and making me giddy. I grin back at her before I realize that I’ve let my guard down.
Her gaze softens and she nods. “Alright. It’s a date. But only if you promise me I’ll get to see you smile like that more often.”
My cheeks burn, knowing she likes my smile and that it’s rare enough around her to be notable. It’s a struggle to not let self-consciousness wipe it away, but I keep my defenses down. I can’t give Camille much, but if my smile makes her happy, then it’s hers.
