Chapter Eight
Forrest
Lunch.
I was making lunch, not thinking about the sexy man on the couch pursuing my erotic novels. Not thinking about which books caught his eye. Not thinking about which scenes got him hard. Nope. I was making lunch.
Except I wasn’t. I was standing in front of an open refrigerator, sporting a woody, and not even remembering why I opened it. Fuck it. This wasn’t going to work.
I marched out into the living room, not even sure what I was going to say, but knowing words were needed. I reached out for my kindle as I got to the sofa. He didn’t even look up, lying there looking all hot, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip.
I cleared my throat.
“Lunch ready?” He turned the kindle down. Oh yeah, he was reading my erotica. Damn, that was hot.
“No. I need that back.” I all but growled, like an asshat. It wasn’t his fault all I could think about was kissing him, nibbling on him, and knotting him.
“Why?” He bit his lip again, looking even sexier with his eyes darkened from lust. What story had he been reading? What was it that turned him on so?
No. I couldn’t think like that. He was trapped and injured. The last thing he needed was for me to take advantage of the situation no matter how much my body pushed me to do exactly that. I wasn’t an alphahole.
“Why? Because I just stood in front of the fridge for a full minute not remembering why I was there. That’s why.” My argument made no sense in the context of what we’d been discussing, but given the slight blush blooming on River’s cheeks, he knew exactly what I meant, which in turn had me blushing.
“So, you need help in the kitchen?” He didn’t even move to get up, a smirk settling on his face.
Oh yeah. He knew what my problem was. And then, to make matters worse, I looked him from head to toe, my eyes stopping at the bulge in his pants.
“No.” I snapped, instantly regretting my harsh tone. “I need to stop thinking about you reading porn.”
“I thought it was romance or some shit.” He raised an eyebrow and propped himself up until he was sitting straighter. My omega was challenging me—in the naughty way. No. Not my omega. The omega. That was it. The omega.
“And what romantic thing were you reading about exactly?” Why did I take his bait? Because I couldn’t just let that naughty come-hither glint in his eye go. I was a hot mess of inappropriate need. He was injured and trapped. There was no way that could ever turn into an afternoon delight and not be incredibly wrong on many levels. I needed to stop.
“An omega getting tied up in Japanese knots.”
Okay, stopping wasn’t an option. My cock tenting my pants was a very real problem, and the bastard noticed it, his eyes grazing me as he licked his lip, his scent increasing in intensity.
Damn it. If I stayed much longer, I was going to end up kissing him or worse sucking him dry. No. That wasn’t worse. That was better except it was so wrong. I needed to get out of here and clear my head before I did something both of us would regret. Not right away, because we very much both wanted it from all the signs before me, but later when the afterglow faded. And we were both stuck together and unsure why we had no self-control
“Before they went to quilting guild?” But my mouth kept running as I perched on the coffee table, which was very not me going back to the kitchen where I should be.
“No. Before something—I don’t know. You took it away.” He pouted. Those sexy lips smushed together begging me to kiss it away.
“I’ll tell you before what. Before he teases his omega to the point where he is begging to be fucked.” It was one of my favorites. Not that I wanted to do any of it in real life—knots were tricky, and doing them wrong could equal serious injury, but reading about them did it for me.
“And you like that?” he asked. Brazen omega.
“To read. Sure. Looks like you do, too.” I pointed out his tented pants like a spoilt brat.
“More I liked hearing you say that.” He winked, and I groaned.
“Not helping,” I mumbled before forcing myself to stand.
“Wasn’t trying to. It’s not like we aren’t single adults.” River winked again, this time while licking his lips. Was he trying to kill me? I saw now why people thought he wasn’t a typical omega. He knew what he wanted and went for it, at least when it came to sex. But sex with him in this situation would be wrong. Maybe. The longer we talked, the more I thought maybe it would be perfect, but I pushed that down. Letting my little brain lead my decision making never ended well.
“You’re injured. I’m going to go make lunch and feed you.” I took three steps before he cleared his throat and I made the mistake of looking back at him.
“Good. I’m hungry.” His eyes were hooded, and his hand was pressing against his erection through his clothing. Hottest. Sight. Ever. “And alpha—feed me good because, after lunch, I’m going to want dessert.” He didn’t even pretend to hide his innuendo.
“Hot cocoa, it is.” I barked as I kept walking to the kitchen.
“I was thinking more you could knot me,” he called to my back. I wasn’t looking again. If I did, I’d take him up on his offer. Oh how I wanted to. “Doctor said I could,” he added.
“Not helping.” I groaned out again as I reached the threshold.
“Still not trying to.” He chuckled.
I was going to need to shovel to town. Yes, that was what I’d do after lunch. That would wear me out enough that I wouldn’t do something he’d regret later.
I ended up making grilled cheese and canned tomato soup. I used a trick I saw on some stupid cooking show about using milk instead of water to reconstitute it. I didn’t have any spices, but it smelled good enough. By the time I was done, my erection was still throbbing, but at least my head was clear. I piled River’s lunch onto his tray and brought it out to him.
“I need to shovel,” I grunted, putting the tray on his lap and heading to the back door to put on my boots. It was still coming down hard, but the further I got from the conversation we’d had earlier, the clearer it became I needed to burn off the energy.
And it wasn’t as if I accomplished much work as I wrote the morning away. I would write a paragraph before stealing a glance at River. He was so into my book and seeing him react, his tongue sticking out slightly at what I imaged were the intense moments and his eyes wide at what I assumed were the big reveals—he was mesmerizing. I’d never seen someone read my book before, not like that, and it blew my mind.
When I told him about my career, I was afraid it would change things. I was pretty well known in the book world, and often that led to people treating me differently. And part of me worried he would think I didn’t have a real job when he recognized none of my books. The worst fear jumped into my mind as he began reading—writing was not traditionally an alpha-type job. What if he thought less of me. No, words barely happened which was very much not good.
I threw on my winter gear, ignoring River’s request for me to stay and eat with him. I was being rude. I’d apologize later, but I needed to get away from his scent and clear my head.
I closed the door behind me, pleasantly surprised to find a snow blower in the garage, and went to working clearing the snow. Not that you could tell an hour and a half later when I finally walked back in, very much looking like a snowman. But at least my boner was gone. That was until I walked in and noticed his hands down the front of his pants.
Death by blue balls wasn’t real, I reminded myself as I hung up my coat, pretending not to notice what he was up to and failing miserably.