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“I think you should show him what he’s missing,” Saint murmurs, his hands running up her sides to cup her breasts in each palm, his long fingers working her nipples into tight peaks.
She moans and throws her head back as she rides him in the same teasing strokes. When she lifts her head, she pins me with her eyes. It spears me through the fucking heart, reminding me I messed up, and I have a lot of groveling to do before she’ll let me back in.
She’s worth it.
Her lips part as she breathes, her cheeks flush, and her eyes glaze as she uses Saint to reach an orgasm. Not that he minds one bit. In fact, he urges her on with his touches. Clearly not remembering or caring that I’m watching. Hell, if she was riding me, I wouldn’t care who saw.
Felix stirs next to them, his eyes focus on Audrey as her climax rushes through her. It riveted all three of us on her. She is beautiful in her bliss.
She collapses onto Saint’s chest, and his arms go around her, holding her close. It is where I want to be.
“Mmmm, that was good,” she says, her voice husky with satisfaction.
“Quite the show, princess,” I reply.
“That was just the encore.” She glances at me. “But I’m not sleeping on this floor, so I’m going to bed.”
“Alone?” I ask.
She presses a quick kiss to Saint’s lips before turning to Felix and doing the same, then she pushes to her feet. “They can join me if they want. Not that it matters to you?”
“Tomorrow, Audrey, we need to talk.”
Her lips form a flat line and some of the flush fades, my words chasing the afterglow away. “Right, talk.” She uses her fingers as quotation marks. Then strides away like she doesn’t have a care in the world.
* * *
I don’t sleep.Instead, I’m out of the penthouse before the sun rises, and I pick up flowers, before heading to the local twenty-four-hour coffee shop and picking up pastries. Today is the day I fix the mess I created.
My steps are lighter than they have been in years, and I whistle as I make my way back to the apartment building. The penthouse is silent when I unlock the door and set my purchases on the kitchen island. I grab down a glass and put the flowers in water, then get a plate out and arrange the pastries before covering them with plastic wrap to keep them fresh. Then I pick up the Scrabble game that is strewn all over the living area, scattered around with their clothing. By the time one of their doors cracks open, the place is spotless again.
I know how omegas can be with messes. And I need Audrey to be here for what I have to say, not thinking about cleaning up the game they played last night.
Audrey steps out of her room, in a tank top and shorts. She silently walks over to the kitchen, and I watch as she fingers a petal and sniffs the flowers before turning to get a glass. She pulls out some O.J. to fill it up, and when she turns around and catches sight of me she yelps, her fingers losing their grip and the glass smacking the marble floor, glass shattering everywhere.
She gasps and immediately drops to her knees, picking up the larger pieces and putting them into the biggest shard. Concern has me moving into the kitchen. I kneel and pick up some of the bigger pieces before noticing that Audrey is bleeding.
“You’re bleeding,” I say.
She shakes off her finger and then sucks it into her mouth. “Just a tiny cut. I’ll be fine.”
“Let me take care of it,” I reply. My single focus is on moving her to safety. I’ll clean this up after she is okay.
“It’s fine.”
Ignoring her protest, I stand up and then sweep her into my arms and carry her over to the island stool. “Stay right here. I’ll get something to bandage you up, and then I’ll clean up the glass.”
She huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “Now you care?”
I pause and cup her cheek, encouraging her to look at me, to see me at this moment. “Audrey, my perfect omega, I have always cared.”
She sucks in a breath, her eyes widening, and I drop my hand to go do what I said, even though kissing her senseless has reached the very top of my list of things I want to do. I have a feeling plowing through all the steps of apology straight to that wouldn’t have the same impact.
When I return with peroxide, some healing ointment, and bandaids, setting them all on the island, she is exactly where I left her. I reach for her hand. Her finger is still bleeding, proving that it wasn’t just a minor cut. I clean it off and bandage it up, then press a soft kiss to the bandaid.
“All better.”
She pulls her eyebrows down, making a little crease appear over them as I stand up and head around the island. Being careful not to step on the remaining glass. I pull down a fresh glass and fill it with O.J., setting it down in front of her.
