Page 89 of Feeling the Heat: Part One
Camille smiles against my lips as I reluctantly pull back. “What was that for?”
“For being a good girl and telling me what you wanted,” I murmur, savoring the slight flare of desire in her eyes at my words.
She shakes her head and steps back, placing a hand on the curve of one of her ample, bite-worthy hips. God, I want to sinkmy teeth into every inch of her soft flesh. “I’ve got to be at least five years older than you, so I’m not exactly a girl.”
I chuckle and shrug, knowing my dirty thoughts are written across my face. “Yeah, but you like it.”
Camille shakes her head again but doesn’t argue against that. Not that I thought she would. I know from her heat how much she gets off on being told she’s good. And I’m more than happy to tell her just how perfect she is.
Though, she’d probably think I’m nuts if I voiced my praise-filled thoughts every time one passed through my mind. They happen every time I look at her. Every time I hear her voice. Every time I catch her scent.
So basically, every second we’re together.
I’m down bad for Camille, and wouldn’t have it any other way.
I nudge her shoulder. “Would you rather I called you ‘good woman’?”
Her cute little nose wrinkles. “No, not really.”
“What about ‘ma’am’? Or I know!” I clap my hands together and waggle my eyebrows at her. “What about ‘madam’?”
My dick twitches at my own words. Huh, guess I’m into that.
Camille scoffs and goes to grab a bag from the trunk, but I step in front of her and hold a hand up to stop her. “Let your strong, handsome beta carry your bags, madam.”
“You’re ridiculous,” she giggles.
Maybe I am, but she likes it. The clouds hanging over her head are dissipating, and I’m happy to continue being silly to keep the storm away.
Hours later,and more than a few feeble protests from Camille, we’re putting the finishing touches on her new nest. What was an unremarkable bedroom, with none of the softness and warmth that Camille exudes, is now a charming haven.
I may be a beta, but I can’t resist preening knowing I helped her put this together. She asked for my opinion and trusted me to help her set up a space that’s sacred for an omega. Maybe I should’ve pointed out that normally I’d need permission to enter an omega’s nest and that me making it with her is a pretty big deal, but what purpose would that have served?
Camille clearly isn’t comfortable with her omega yet.
I get it. If I suddenly went through a heat and needed to make a nest, and couldn’t keep myself from reacting when an alpha barked at me, I’d be a lot less composed than Camille. It’s a monumental adjustment.
So I don’t argue when Camille flops down on her cozy pile of blankets and pillows and pats the space next to her. She rolls over onto her side to look at me, and my chest squeezes at the sight of her, cheeks pink, hair frizzed out a bit, and sweat on her brow from our hard work. My dick fills as it reminds me of how she looked during her heat.
“I’ll get back up in a minute,” she sighs, closing her eyes and snuggling closer. Her face brushes up against my chest, and I don’t know if she realizes she’s started to scent mark me. Her neutralizer must be wearing off, because her delicious spiced latte scent is wrapping around me.
I stroke her arm and bask in her nearness and invigorating scent. We stay like this for a few minutes, my heart growing more and more full of affection for her with each passing second.
My dick might be hard, but this isn’t just physical. I like Camille. Alot.
Another few minutes go by, and I wonder if maybe she’s passed out, but she releases a heavy sigh. “I guess I should tell you about the people in Nesting.”
I keep my touch light, hoping to stop her from tensing up again. “I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t driving me a little crazy not knowing, but I can deal. Only tell me if you feel comfortable.”
She huffs out a soft chuckle. “See, this is why I like you. You’re honest about how you feel, but manage to not use those feelings to pressure me.”
I roll over to face her, a slow grin spreading my lips. “You like me, gorgeous?”
Camille rolls her eyes. “Yes, Jackson. I like you. Why else would I have you in my bed, or, uh, my nest?”
At this angle, it’s really hard to not look down her top at her luscious tits, so I don’t bother fighting it. “Maybe you’re trying to seduce me.” I direct my response to her chest, fingers twitching with the desire to reach up and knead her breast. I drag my gaze back up to her face, where her eyes have grown heavy-lidded and her cheeks awash in pink. “If you are, it’s working.”
My grin is dirty as I wait for her response, though there’s a clench of something unpleasant in my gut. What if sex really is the only reason she likes me? I hate that I even consider that, but given my dating history, it’s better to acknowledge the possibility.
