Page 62 of Feeling the Heat: Part Two
He barely spares me a glance, giving me a quick “night, Jackson,” as he heads for the door. Camille watches him go, a longing similar to what I saw in River’s gaze earlier written across her features. But when she turns to face me after locking the door behind him, her smile returns.
“I ordered pizza if you’re hungry. You like sausage and peppers, right? I should get changed, and I need to work on a few emails, but they won’t take long, and then you’ll have my undivided attention.”
My chest squeezes like it always does when I’m around Camille. “You remembered my favorite,” I say, unable to hold back my pleased smile that she paid attention when I rambled about the merits of different pizza toppings the other day. I pull her to me, leaning down to press my lips to hers. There’s a hint of River’s dark chocolate scent lingering on her skin, and the combination of it with her coffee makes my mouth water.
“Mmm, maybe I want to have you for dinner,” I murmur when our lips part, forgetting about needing to let her set the pace.
Her eyelashes flutter, eyes growing hooded as her perfume blooms between us. “I…”
I go to apologize, but stop when her mouth presses against mine, more insistent this time. With a groan, I grab her hips and kiss her back, opening when her tongue seeks entrance into my mouth.
Little whimpers escape her between strokes of her tongue against mine, her hands fisting the back of my shirt. I tug her closer, slotting my leg between her thighs, and earn a full moan, which I drink down greedily. She rocks against mythigh, kissing me until I’m lightheaded and dizzy from need, and she’s gasping and panting against my mouth.
She’s going to come like this, and it’s so fucking hot that I’m about to blow my load in my jeans. She’s so close…
Camille pulls back, and I almost fall over at the loss of contact.
“Shit, sorry!” I don’t really know why I’m apologizing, but it’s reflexive.
She shakes her head, eyes still sparkling with heat. “Don’t be sorry! I got a little carried away.” She laughs, giving me a sheepish look as she smooths down her mussed hair that I didn’t even realize I’d tangled my fingers in during the kiss.
“Did it seem like I minded?” I rasp, voice still thick from being moments away from coming and her scent in the air.
A shy smile spreads across her lips. “No, but…I…I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you.”
I blink back at her, baffled. “Help me out, Cami. In what universe would us kissing and you coming on my thigh be taking advantage of me when I’m an enthusiastic participant?”
She shakes her head. “I know, but you told me you worry people want you for sex and nothing more, and jumping you five minutes after you get here doesn’t exactly help to not reinforce that.”
A startled laugh falls from my lips. This considerate, wonderful omega. “That’s the sweetest, most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said.”
She glares at me, but I tug her to me, and she releases a soft giggle as I nuzzle my cheek against her throat to scent mark her. “I’ve spent the past week on your couch, hard as a rock while I listen to you get yourself off in your nest. That’s not the behavior of someone using me for my body.”
Her breath hitches, and she looks up at me, wide-eyed. “Oh god, you could hear that?”
“Yeah. It wastorture,” I groan, brushing my lips against her throat and savoring the way her breath stutters again. “But you know I like that from you, so take all the time you need. I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to take advantage of me.”
She laughs, sounding breathless as she steps back, biting her lower lip as she gives me a once-over, like she’s trying to decide how best to use me.
I strike a pose, and she laughs harder, smacking my shoulder playfully. Her phone pings with a notification, and she glances at it. “Pizza will be here soon.”
“Good, I’m starving. Why don’t you go get changed, and I’ll handle the delivery person?”
I try to sound casual with the suggestion, but we both know I’m being protective. I doubt anyone would pretend to have a delivery to get to her, but that doesn’t keep me from wanting to be the one to answer just in case.
I’ve gotten the pizza from the delivery guy—who I’m not sure if I was imagining had weird vibes or not—and set out drinks and plates on the coffee table by the time Camille returns.
She’s piled her hair atop her head in a messy bun and is wearing an oversized pair of sweatpants I think belong to Ambrose and a cropped t-shirt that shows off a delicious sliver of her soft stomach.
I let out a whistle of appreciation, which earns me a skeptical huff and a slight blush from the omega. She has her laptop in her hand and looks between me and the pizza with a sigh. “Please go ahead and eat. I need to get this work stuff done.”
I nod and grab a slice, understanding from my experiences with Camille that if I protest and wait to eat, it’ll stress her out. Plus, I need something to do with my mouth other than putting it on hers again.
She opens her laptop and gets to work, cocking a brow at me as I moan at the hot, cheesy, meaty goodness when I take my first bite. I waggle my eyebrows back at her, and she snorts and focuses back on her screen.
As much as I want to chatter and find out about her day, I stay quiet, scrolling on my phone so I won’t stare at her. Camille has agreed to let us stay with her until she feels safe enough to be alone, but she still needs to be able to live her life. This is good practice for if she moves in with us and I have to remember to give her space rather than smothering her with my attention like I really, really want to do.
I look up from the stream of cute dachshund videos I’m scrolling through when she lets out a groan.
