Page 47 of Scrum Heat

She walks past the couch, sets the bowl down on the coffee table, and—without asking—nudges my legs off the cushion with her hip.

I blink at her.

She flops down next to me, tucks her feet under her, and starts eating cereal like this is normal.

Like she hasn’t just invaded the only corner of peace I had left.

“This is my space,” I mutter.

She shrugs. “It’s community seating. Besides, you’re taking up ninety percent of it.”

“I’m bigger than you.”

“You’re grumpier than me.”

I stay still for a minute. Not out of politeness, but out of sheer confusion.

It’s not that she’s here. It’s not even that she’s sitting next to me. It’s… the smell.Hersmell.

Warm. Soft. Familiar now. And it’s not just her scent, it’s… presence. She’s embedded in the house, embedded inus.

She hums to herself between mouthfuls, then shifts a little—just enough that her bare leg brushes against mine.

I go rigid.

She doesn’t notice, or she pretends not to.

I don’t know the last time I was this close to an omega without it being something physical, something fast and forgettable—something that didn’t involve cereal and shared couches and oversized hoodies. I glance at her from the corner of my eye and catch her licking the spoon.

“What?” she asks, tilting her head.

“Nothing.”

“You were staring.”

“Was not.”

She grins. “You were thinking very loudly.”

I shift again. She shifts too.

Her thigh presses to mine again, firmer this time.

I don’t move.

She sets the bowl down and wipes her hands on a napkin. I shift myself more upright as she settles back into the couch, and I move to turn the TV on. Some crappy show flickers on that I know she’s been watching, and then she leans back—slow and relaxed—

And her head bumps against my shoulder.

It’s not a big thing, but I stop breathing for it all the same.

She doesn’t move. Again.

And neither do I.

I can feel her weight there; the soft curve of her against the side of my arm, the tiniest warmth of her skin brushing mine where the sleeve rides up.

It’s too much. It’s not enough.

---