“What’s wrong?” Rhett asks, ripping me out of my negative thoughts.
Myrick gives a small, teary laugh, still pressed close. “Nothing,” he says softly, pulling back.
I try to laugh it off as I wipe my face with the heel of my hand. I hope they’ll both assume they’re happy tears.
“I’m glad you're both home,” Myrick says, smiling—but then his gaze shifts behind me, and his smile dims slightly.
“This is Charlie,” Rhett says, and I don’t miss the slight shift in his voice. Is it regret? Frustration? It’s hard to tell.
“It’s good to meet you.” Charlie offers his hand, polite and respectful. Thankfully, Myrick is a gentleman and shakes it, but I can feel the forced civility. It makes my stomach twist.
“Rhett messaged me from the plane,” Myrick says softly. “He told me about your…” he glances at Rhett, “...agreement.” He forces a tight smile as he clasps his hands together, letting them hang in front of him. “Let me show you to your room,” he says to Charlie.
Charlie steps past me, eyes lowered, like he’s afraid of making this harder. I want to reach for him and ask him to stay. But I know better.
“This way,” Myrick says gently, leading him away down the hall.
I barely have time to process the loss before Rhett leans in, his voice low and deep. “Let’s get you to bed, too.”
My breath catches.
This is it.
I’m about to be claimed.
Forcing myself to smile, I try to trick my mind into being excited and awake as we turn down a long, white hallway. Everything feels crisp and quiet, but my pulse is a little too loud in my ears.
“I’ll give you the full tour in the morning,” Rhett says as we pass a wall that’s made entirely of frosted glass. It glows faintly with a soft light from somewhere inside. “Charlie’s room is here.” He points as we pass an open doorway.
I catch a glimpse of Myrick and Charlie talking. Itlooks… cordial. Maybe even friendly. But we move past them too fast for me to know for sure.
Moving down the hall and around a corner, I’m shocked to find a few more identical white doors. This place is massive. It must have at least eight or nine bedrooms….maybe more.
“And this is our room.” Rhett opens the door at the very end of the hall.
The bed is massive. There’s a large padded headboard with buttons and black bedding, like something out of a luxury catalog. There’s lots of dark wood, an ornate chandelier overhead, and an armchair. But I’m way too tired to really focus on any of the other details. Everything feels foggy and dreamlike, like I’m watching this happen to someone else.
“The bathroom is here.” Rhett moves to a white door with fancy beveled edges across from the foot of the bed. “That door is to the toilet, and that one is the closet.” He points somewhere inside the bathroom.
Squeezing my wrist, I nod, pretending like I can see.
“I’ll grab you something to sleep in.” He disappears into the bathroom, and I finally exhale, sucking in a shaky breath like I’ve been holding it since the elevator.
“Calm down,” I whisper to myself. “You can do this. It’s not like you're a virgin.” My gaze drifts over the bed. The comforter is drawn back on the far side, telling me that Myrick was probably there, waiting for us to get home.
When Rhett reappears, I stop breathing altogether.
He’s stripped down to snug black briefs and that’s it.
Thick thighs, lean waist, abs cut with just enough shadow to make me stare. His broad chest is lightly dusted with dark hair, and I can see the ripple of muscle in hisshoulders when he moves. He looks like he was built to ruin omegas.
Heat flashes through me—fast and dizzying—followed quickly by the urge to yawn. I’m stuck somewhere between exhaustion and lust, laced with a trace of fear. It’s very confusing.
“Here,” Rhett says gently, holding out a soft, oversized shirt. “I’m sure you’ll feel better once you get out of those clothes.” He eyes the dark blue dress shirt hanging off my shoulders.
Swallowing hard, I nod. I guess he wants me to take it off myself. I thought maybe he’d undress me. Touch me. But no—he wants to watch.
My fingers tremble slightly as I start unbuttoning. Should I be sensual? Slow? The problem is, I’m not sure how to do this in a sexy way. I’m better with dirty talk. I love to make my lover blush, but I’ve never been great at flirting…at least that’s how I am with other women.
