Page 136 of Roulette Rodeo
Or more so, didn’t have the confidence or desire to do with someone else…
I stand up, set my mug carefully on the porch railing, then promptly sit myself down on his lap, settling sideways so I can still see his face.
"Is that better?"
He whistles low, his arm automatically coming around my waist to steady me, and the smirk on his face is different now—less amused, more interested.
"Totally better. But if I get a hard-on, you can't tease me."
I love a man who’s bold with his expression.
I giggle, the sound bubbling up naturally. There's something about Corwin that makes me feel safe enough to be silly, to be flirty without fear of consequences. It’s nice to be around someone without apprehension. Just exist and speak your mind, not caring of any consequences.
"Are you adjusting well so far?" he asks, his thumb rubbing absent circles on my hip through my jeans.
I think about it, really shimmer on it, not just giving the automatic 'fine' that I would have defaulted to before.
"It's been a bit overwhelming," I admit, "which is why I wanted to take today off to stay home and organize. It's so different from my lifestyle of schedules and knowing exactly what I have to do every single day, seven days a week."
I pause, trying to articulate the feeling.
"Here, I'm figuring out my goals and wants, learning the hobbies I want to try, but it feels like I'm swimming and, well... sometimes it's almost like I'm drowning."
It’s the best way to describe it without feeling sort of stupid.
He nods, and there's understanding in his eyes.
"It is tricky to go from structure to open chaos in what people would deem as peace." He shifts slightly, getting more comfortable with me on his lap. "Think about lottery winners, for example. They're used to the structure of having a job, bills to pay, routines to follow. Suddenly they have all this money that'ssupposed to make their life effortless, but without structure, they often spend it all and end up right back where they started. Or worse."
"That makes sense," I say, sipping my latte thoughtfully. "I guess I never thought about how structure, even bad structure, gives you purpose."
"Exactly. So," he says, looking at me with those doctor eyes that see too much, "have you figured out if you want to work?"
"I do," I say without hesitation. "Even if it's just part-time. Poppy's gym friend is opening a place soon, and I could actually do a beginner kickboxing class for omegas, which would be pretty new of its kind."
I shrug, suddenly self-conscious.
"I'm obviously not a pro, but it would be empowering to help other omegas. Or at least stay active. Teach them basic self-defense, how to throw a proper punch, maybe even just give them a space to be strong instead of just soft."
"That sounds perfect for you," he says, and the approval in his voice warms me more than the latte.
"There's also the only bar in town," I add, watching his face.
The frown is immediate and adorable.
"No."
I giggle, unable to help myself.
"What? Don't want anyone watching your precious stuff?"
The shift in his demeanor is instant and electric. He leans in suddenly, close enough that I can smell his scent—cedar and amber with something medicinal underneath, like soft sanitizer. I freeze as he stares directly into my eyes, and his voice drops to something that makes my stomach flip.
"You're not precious stuff. You're our omega. You were before these stupid government-instilled rules, and I'd happily prove to this gossip town that we mean it."
He pauses, and something darker flashes in his eyes.
"But yes, it makes me a bit jealous to think of anyone looking at what's ours."
