Page 33 of Sweet Heat

Does he still hate me? Maybe he never blamed me for his parents? But then why was he always so mean to me growing up—leaving rooms as soon as I entered and glaring at me all the time?

Miller presses more kisses against my face, pulling me tight against him, and for just a second, the scent of churros and caramel sauce hits my brain, calming me instantly. My nose twitches, and I try to find the source, but just as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone, and I’m left wondering if I’ve completely lost it.

“I know we have a lot to talk about. But let me take you to dinner, and we can figure it out. Pasta sound good?” he asks, pulling back as though able to sense how overwhelmed I am. Unable to process, I just nod.

“What do you want to wear?” He climbs from the bed, letting his towel drop to the floor and giving me a spectacular view of his muscular ass. It’s so perfect that I want to weep, but my body has other ideas. My nipples pucker painfully, and my pussy throbs.His words about us becoming one come back to me, and a sharp tug pulls on my heart at the thought. My instincts beg me to roll over and present for my Alpha, and slick floods my center in preparation. But it’s all too much.

Wrapping the blankets around my body to keep it hidden from view, I slink out of my bed.

“I’ll just take a quick shower first,” I promise before dashing to the door and locking it behind me. Hoping a cold shower will bring me clarity; I slap at the faucets to turn it on.

His chuckle filters under the door.

“No problem, Puff. I’ll wait downstairs,” he agrees, and it sounds like he pauses and presses his hand to the door for just a second. “But please, sweet girl. No de-scenter tonight. I’ll keep you safe. Promise.”

A squeak pulls from my chest, and I duck under the cold spray.

Chapter Eighteen

Pressing my hand against her back, I lead Posie to a table in the corner, glowering at anyone who dares glance her way. The simple pink dress she has on is enough to make me murderous. It hugs every curve of her delectable body, and the V-neck gives me enough of a glimpse of her cleavage to leave my already rock-hard cock angry and straining.

Maybe going out wasn’t a good idea.

Her sweet perfume drives me insane, and I fear its extra-deep notes may entice every Alpha within fifty miles. She’s lush, stunning, andmine. The sooner my mark’s on her neck, the better.

Posie gifts me with a broad smile as I pull out her chair, letting her soft curves press against me as she takes her seat. Unable to control my instincts, I brush my cheek against hers, scentmarking her to let all the other horny bastards in this place know she’s mine.

Her eyes widen innocently, and a blush tinges her cheeks. So. Fucking. Cute.

The other chair sits across from hers, but I can’t bear the idea of being that far apart now she’s allowed me a taste, so I draw it closer, not caring in the least that it causes multiple sets of eyes to swivel in our direction.

“Miller, what are you doing?” she hisses, bringing her hand up to cover her face.

“The other side is too far away,” I explain, settling next to her and dropping my hand onto her knee. She jumps at the touch but doesn’t move away, which I put in the win column.

For some reason, Posie seems skittish about all of this, and I’m determined to get to the bottom of it. I’ve been stalking my omega for several years. And while I thought she might not want me because of Owen, he hasn’t been mentioned at all.

It’s more like she doesn’t believe you could want her.

A low growl rumbles from my chest, and she presses her hand to the top of mine. Her instincts wanting to soothe my surly nature. And it does. Nothing else matters now that we’re together with no chaperones or barriers between us.

“Hello. Anything to drink?” A waiter intrudes on the moment, and it takes everything in me not to punch him in the dick.

“I’ll have a lemon water, please,” Posie replies with a little smile. The small gesture has my instincts raging, wanting to keep every quirk of her sexy pink lips for myself.

“Whatever IPA you have on draft,” I say, frowning in his direction. The waiter’s hands shake, sensing the danger, and hescurries away. Good. Not ready to dive right into the deep shit, I search for something simple to talk about, even though my brain wants to tell her everything and beg her to move in with me.

Twisting my body, I study her as she stares at the menu and nibbles on her pouty bottom lip.

“What looks good?” I ask, already knowing that I want baked ziti. She bites down harder, and for a second, I worry that she’ll draw blood, so I reach forward and release the poor abused flesh with my thumb. “No one bites that lip but me.”

A shiver overtakes her, and a burst of her perfume saturates the air, making my knot respond with a throb.

“I think the house salad,” she whispers, her pupils dilating. Anger has me seeing red, knowing that her choice is because of the awful date Owen mentioned.

“But you hate salad,” I say, squeezing her knee. Before I get a chance to delve too far into whatever the fuckwad said to make her want to count her calories, the server returns with our drinks.

“And are you ready to order?” he asks, keeping his eyes off Posie this time. Guess he’s a quick learner.

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