Page 39 of Heat Hesitation

"You look beautiful tonight, Ophelia."

His eyes glitter behind his thick black frames, looking me over. He leans in, just like he did that first night, silently demanding the expanse of my neck, my submission. I stand perfectly still, without retreating, while he inhales, nose and lips trailing along my neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. My knees go weak, and my perfume blooms in the air around us as his hand goes around my waist.

It's the first time he's touched me. Not caressed or reached out or grasped a piece of my clothing. He's holding me like he wants to consume me.

Chapter 17

Enzo

I've never wondered what this might be like. I never cared. But I've never had someone like Ophelia in my life, so it makes sense I'd not have noticed or cared how a woman smelled—how her pupils dilated in reaction to my scent mingling with hers, how her skin flushed red in the wake of my touch.

My alpha growls, and though it's happened before—never as many times as it has in the last two weeks—there's something different about it this time. It's visceral and desperate, a deep vibration rumbling from my gut. My teeth burn, god do they ache. I feel the bonding venom heavy in my incisors, begging me to claim my omega.

I should probably talk to her about that, but she's just as lost in the haze as I am. My cock weighs so heavy, straining against my zipper, seeking her pussy like a missile, my knot throbbing and thickening, a most distracting sensation.

Placing my hand on her sternum, I guide Ophelia back a few steps. She whimpers in protest, but I don't let her get far; I just need space to think clearly so I don't rut her like a fucking animal.

Shockingly, I've not thought that far ahead, not imagined what this would be like. I suspect I'll be insatiable once I've had her, which is one of the reasons I've not let myself be alone with her. There's time in our future for me to fuck her like an animal, but right now, I want to take my time.

With a bit of space between us, I can take her in. Eyes at half-mast, chest heaving, her wickedly tantalizing perfume blooming between us. I can smell her slick; she's likely dripping wet. One glance and I notice how her knees press together, any amount of relief a balm on the burning ache she feels between her legs. My cock is practically pulsing, my balls tightening up like I'm about to come. I can't believe this is real. That she's here and that she wants me as badly as I want her.

I don't release my hand from her chest; instead, I let my fingertips trail down the center, pulling her dress open, exposing her perfect, small breasts. I pull one out, then the other, tucking the scraps of fabric beneath the lacy white bra.

"I'm going to bite you right here," I tell her, caressing the left with my thumb, goosebumps following my touch. "Bond you to me for life."

Her perfume bursts again, stronger, with a new, sweeter layer blooming like candied flowers, making my mouth water and my teeth burn sharper.

"Enzo, please," she begs. It's surreal. "I need… I need…"

I can't believe I've done that. I don't think I've ever turned on a woman, let alone rendered one incoherent. In passing, possibly, but one look at my dissecting, clinical gaze and most turn away and shudder, unsure why I unsettle them so.

Not Ophelia. She fucking loves it. She knows it means I'm going to learn every single inch of her—how she feels, what she likes, what she doesn't. I'm going to analyze her every reaction and expression until I find the perfect combination to make her fall apart and scream my name. I'm going to watch my brothers fuck her and take note of everything they do that makes her light up.

My thumb flicks her nipple at the peak of her left breast, hidden beneath the material of her bra, though I can feel how hard it is. Sensitive, too, since her knees nearly collapse, and a soft whimper escapes those perfect lips, and she begs me again.

Reaching out, I grab the tie of her dress and rip it open, unwrapping her like the best fucking present I've ever received.

She's wearing those thick slick-wick underwear I've heard of but never seen in person. They cover all the important bits, but she's so wet her slick is dripping down the hem onto her thigh.

Hmm, this might be a project for our Research and Development department to improve upon to help omegas hide their scent better. Right now, these are doing nothing to hide that lustrous shine, her candied floral scent even stronger as I watch the slick trail down her thick inner thigh.

Coming to a kneel, I lean forward and breathe her in. Her rose scent is even stronger at her core, and I shove my nose between her legs. She squeaks, and it's adorable, but her panties are in the way, and she's wearing too much clothing. Wrapping my arm around the back of her knees, I stand, lifting her with me. Thrown over my shoulder, she squeals again while her dress flaps open around us.

I ignore the feel of her burning bare skin touching mine. When we reach her bedroom, her scent overwhelms me. The rest of her apartment smelled like cleaning supplies and faintly of mildew or some other offending mold, but here, where she sleeps, where she touches herself, there's no hiding it.

Lavender and sage, an earthy combination, with the intoxicating rose floral—a perfect combination to describe Ophelia, both down-to-earth and classically beautiful all at once.

I drop her on the bed, and her little tits bounce as she lands. My alpha snarls, begging to be let out. I can't let him loose, or he'll bond and impale her instantly.

I need another minute, so I take a step back.

"Dress off," I command. My voice does not sound like my own. She quickly, ungracefully, pulls her arms out of the dress, throwing it to the ground. "Bra, too."

I should do it for her, but I've always been intimidated by the idea of taking off a woman's bra, and now's not the time to experiment. But I don't need to overthink it because she takes it off quickly, tossing the material somewhere off the bed with the dress.

Her chest heaves with each breath, making her beautiful breasts lift and fall, jiggling slightly, and it's a distracting image. Her nipples are dusty pink and hard, and I let myself give in just a bit, climbing onto the bed and sucking the right one into my mouth. Ophelia cries out, wrapping her legs around my waist while I taste her, feeling the soft texture of her skin, the puckering firm shape of her nipple. I flick my tongue, noticing how she writhes and bucks her hips up with each lashing of my tongue.

My perfect little omega wiggles beneath me, chanting my name, and I'm so hard the material of my pants fucking hurts, and yet, simultaneously, the strain feels so good I think I might come.

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