Something is wrong with this batch, I’m sure. The fresh pack should provide me extra coverage.
And I’m going to need it.
I slip into sweats and a baggy t-shirt and return to the room. I don’t care how awkward this is going to be, I’m not wearing a bra to bed. Period.
Jamie takes his turn in the bathroom, and I keep the show on. I actually keep watching it. It’s entertaining enough.
He returns still in a sweater and jeans, and approaches the empty side of the bed.
“You’re not sleeping in jeans,” I say.
Jamie’s cheeks turn bright red, and I know what he’s thinking. It’s what I’m thinking. If I were taking chances, if he were a beta, I’d leave it at that. He’d take his jeans off, climb in bare-legged.
But I’m not taking chances. And he’s an omega.
“Here,” I say, pushing out of bed and flipping open my suitcase.
“Wow, you’reorganized,” Jamie murmurs, referring to the tidy rows of neatly folded clothes. “Your suitcase makes mine look like adisaster, on the inside and the outside.”
“Yours suits you,” I say, sensing Jamie’s tension as he assumes it’s a backhanded compliment. “I like it.”
I pull out an extra set of sweatpants and a t-shirt and toss them to him. He catches them awkwardly, then slinks into the bathroom.
When he returns, I glance up, and I have to force myself consciously to breathe. I hadn’t fully appreciated how much larger than him I am until I see the sweatpants cinched tight, the t-shirt draping off his slender shoulders. Fuck, I want to unwrap him.
“Better,” I say, and he climbs into bed next to me.
I dim the lights, but neither of us makes any move to turn off the TV. We need that buffer, that distraction.
Jamie was right about room service. Thereissomething more intimate about food arriving in your bedroom. Just like there’s something more intimate about sharing this bed with him.
I’ll be smelling him all night. He’s so close. Am I even going to sleep?
An hour later, he finally drifts off. I make sure he’s well asleep, then turn off the TV. I’m about to get up and at least get some work done if I’m not going to sleep.
His quiet breath is the sweetest sound. My chest slows to match his, and my heart rate follows.
The beast purrs and curls up.
This time it’s the human part of me that resists. But what, am I going to throw a fit that he’s calming me down instead of riling me up for once?
I hate the old rhetoric that an omega’s job is to calm alphas down, that a wild alpha just needs an omega. No, a wild alpha needs to grow the fuck up and take responsibility for themselves.
I comfort myself with the fact that Ididhave a plan. It’s not like I would have made it Jamie’s problem. I just would have lost a few hours of sleep.
A few hours that are now his gift to me.
And there’s another unfamiliar feeling.
I’m grateful.
#
I dream of running through the woods, loping on all fours, unbound and free.
I have this dream a lot.
What’s new is the scent of prey that makes my mouthwater, and I flick my tongue across my fangs.
