Page 28 of Glitterati Omega

He tapped the side of the mug and looked outside again. “All the money, all the time in the world, and I haven’t found anything I’m good at. The only thing I have to do is look pretty.”

“I think you’re good at that.”

Rupert huffed into his coffee. “My ex-husband would disagree.” Particularly when Rupert had been sick. God, he’d looked awful.

“I don’t recall asking for his opinion,” Winston said with a shrug.

Rupert peered at the alpha for a moment, cradling his coffee. “What about you?” he asked.

“Hm?”

“You’re a lawyer but also a gardener.”

The alpha smiled. “An alpha should have many talents. I’ve heard omegas find that quite attractive.”

“And why would you care what omegas think?”

“I would not say I particularly care whatomegasthink, but I might be interested to know what one omega in particular thinks.”

“I think I’ve yet to see most of your talents—you’ve shown me one or two tricks, but that’s not the whole lot, now is it?”

“What kind of alpha would I be if I showed you everything all at once, hm?”

Rupert’s cheeks were scorching. He wanted to turn his head, but he couldn’t draw himself away from that dark gaze, the simmering promise behind it. Winston tapped his lips. “But one thing before another,” the alpha continued. “I think you ought to ensure you’ve enough fuel to go through your paces before I give you a workout, hm?”

Rupert shook his head. “Well, now I don’t want anything at all, except to have you throw me to the floor and make good on that.”

Winston chuckled again; his touch was gone; his laughter echoed into the mug. “I thought we’d decided the floor wasn’t comfortable enough.”

“Oh,” Rupert huffed, then stabbed at the eggs. He tried not to grimace; Rupert wasn’t sure there was much worse than burnt scrambled eggs.

Winston said nothing; he merely smiled into his mug, and Rupert gave up on the eggs and sipped at his coffee. He wasn’t really hungry anyway; between being slightly hungover and incredibly randy, he had other needs.

“I’m just thinking about your knees, poppet. An alpha must take care of an omega.”

“I didn’t know preserving my knees was an appropriate topic for breakfast conversation,” Rupert grumbled into his mug.

“What would you prefer to talk about?”

“I was thinking you might tell me about how you’re going totake careof me.”

“I was hoping I might just surprise you. Now I need to plan this?”

The bastard, he was still smirking, like that was funny. Worse, it was infectious; Rupert felt his own mouth curving in response. “You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“Goodness. You really do expect a plan, hm?”

Rupert gave the alpha’s shoulder a friendly shove. “You seem like the meticulous type. I’m surprised you haven’t made one.”

Tilting forward seemed a natural thing to do, especially as Winston leaned into his space. Their foreheads touched; their noses bumped together; Winston looked him in the eye and said, “You’re making it rather difficult to think.”

“Oh, I’m distracting now, am I?”

“Very.” Winston’s gaze flitted down, and Rupert was hyper-aware of how close they were, how their breath mingled, and he inched forward at the same time Winston did, closing the gap between them, their lips pressing together, hesitantly, chastely, before they pulled apart.

Their eyes met once more, and in that fraction of a second, they both seemed to be struck with the same thought: what the hell were they doing? There was no one to see them, no one to stop them except themselves—what was the use in playing coy, touching so tenuously when mere hours before, Winston’s lips had been pressed somewhere more intimate, kissing Rupert better, deeper?

They moved at the same time, mouths mashing together. Rupert practically stumbled off the stool; Winston caught him, then pressed him up against the cold stone of the island, pinning him there with a bruising force Rupert found utterly delightful.