Page 28 of Want It All
I’d never been spoiled like this before. My omega purred with contentment.
Sebastian and I reached for the same raspberry.
‘All yours,’ he said as I blushed, grabbing another one. ‘Though we may need to fight – maybe even to the death – for the last one.’
He had a serious sweet tooth, even worse than mine, so we faux-sniped at each other until all the raspberries and the expensive-looking chocolate were gone. It was heavenly, eating with the waves and white sand just in front of us.
And then Tristan stepped into our line of sight, dragging his shirt over his head, and I realised exactly what I’d done.
Icouldtellthemoment Rose realised.
She went still, and I could see the hairs on her arms stand on end. She was wearing a tank top and the sexiest denim shorts I’d ever seen, her arms and legs bare. Her thighs were dimpled andfuck, it took every ounce of self-control I had not to bend down and lick every divot on her skin.
I didn’t know what was going on with me. I’d felt off-balance all morning, too sensitive, like my chest had peeled open and my heart was on display for all to see. I was alternately close to tears and holding back a laugh, skipping from sadness to delight in a heartbeat. I was right next to Rose, so close we were touching, but it wasn’t enough; something inside me wanted to be closer.
I knew it was insane. I knew it couldn’t work between us. But apparently nobody had told my body that, and my body wanted to be all over Rosemary Morris like a fucking weighted blanket.
But it wasn’tmeshe was thinking about. It was Tristan, my alpha. Tristan, who had just tugged his shirt over his head toreveal the perfection beneath it, every line and curve of muscle, every shadow and dip and swell of light brown skin.
It was a view I knew intimately; I’d seen it every day since I was twenty. I had every pathway memorised, every rise and every valley on the map of Tristan’s body a muscle memory beneath my fingertips. I knew how every hard ridge felt pressed against me, how warm his skin was beneath my tongue.
Iknewhow fucking irresistible he was.
I was seeing Rose realise it in real time; seeing the moment it dawned that this innocent trip to the beach would be torture of the mind-blanking, sexy, masculine kind.
I might have felt sorry for her, but the torment was worth it.
Her entire body tensed, as if she wanted to flee, and my instincts clamoured,hatingthat. I nudged her gently. ‘Hey. I brought extra blockers. Just in case.’
She glanced at me, and awareness dawned in her expression. ‘Fuck, Sebastian, I’m so sorry,’ she said in a rush. ‘I didn’t mean –’
To drool over my alpha?I thought, smiling. I wasn’t jealous. I wasn’t surewhyI wasn’t jealous, but there was nothing in me but arousal for Rose, concern for Rose, and faint, affectionate amusement at Rose’s predicament.And cheese. There was also cheese.‘I know you didn’t,’ I said. ‘Trust me. I’ve been there before. It’s totally fine.’
‘It’snotfine. I’m so –’
She broke off, because Byron had apparently decided to send the pair of us to an early grave by doing the same thing.
Fuck. Me.
He wasn’t chiselled, not like Tristan. I’d stared often enough at his biceps to have memorised the swell of them, and his black shirts clung in such a way that I’d been able to imagine the planes of his chest. The other parts had been a mystery; now they were unearthed and making my mouth water.
He was all slabs of muscle, roughly-hewn and so fucking sexy I shivered. His stomach was flat, the kind of flat that begged for the scrape of fingernails to find the muscle beneath, and there was a line of dark hair running from his navel to disappear beneath his board shorts, bracketed by two perfect v-lines.
I licked my lips.
He turned, giving us a view of his back – how could it stretchforever? – and his ass, my teeth aching with the sudden need tobite.
What the fuck, Sebastian.
‘Um,’ Rose said breathlessly. ‘I think I’ll take the blockers.’
She glanced at me, and we both broke into peals of panicked laughter. I found my backpack and fished around until my fingers closed on the blister of blockers. Rose poured us both a glass of juice – sensibly avoiding the champagne Tristan had packed – and she swallowed down two of the little pink pills.
And raised her eyebrows in surprise when I did the same.
Betas still needed blockers at Banksia, but not the same dosage as alphas or omegas. Though betas did have scents, they weren’t as strong as the other designations, and betas didn’t perfume like omegas, or go into ruts like alphas, so a half-dose a day was more than sufficient.
‘I haven’t taken mine for a few days,’ I said, after I’d swallowed a second mouthful of juice.
