Page 26 of Royal Omega

Looking into her doe-like eyes, though, it seems impossible to me that she might be the cold, calculating bitch Conrad seems to believe her to be. She looks so nervous, so unsure. Not for the first time, I wonder if Conrad’s version of events is skewed.

“He isn’t here. But you can come in and wait for him, if you like.”

Carissa chews her bottom lip hesitantly.

“We have food,” I say, offering her what I hope is an enticing grin. “And I promise, I won’t bite... unless you want me to.”

Her breath catches at that, and her eyes widen ever so slightly. I’m encouraged to see a flare of lust in their depths. Her honeycomb-and-ginger scent grows stronger as she steps over the threshold. I keep my eyes on her as I close the door.

“This way,” I say, touching her lower back and leading her into the suite. There’s a platter of fruit, cheese, and meat laid out on the coffee table near a white sectional couch. “Someone brought this in while I was in the shower.”

“Where are the others?” she asks, sitting down and popping a raspberry between her lips. My own mouth goes dry as she closes her eyes and hums. “That’s good.”

I sit down in a chair across from her, covering my lap with a towel to hide my swiftly growing hard-on. I watch as she eats another raspberry and then picks a strawberry, pinching the green stem between two delicate fingers and wrapping that gorgeous mouth around the red berry before biting down.

The towel might not be enough.

She swallows and looks at me expectantly. It takes me a moment to remember that she asked me a question.

“The others... they went to the gym. Should be back pretty soon, I’d guess.”

“You didn’t want to go to the gym?”

“I went for a run instead. I like being outside.”

Carissa nods. “I get that. Especially in this place.” She looks around, those intelligent hazel eyes examining the walls critically. “It’s pretty, but it’s also confining, isn’t it?”

“Do you feel confined?” I ask.

“Sometimes,” she says vaguely before dropping her gaze back to the platter and choosing another raspberry. If I kissed her right now, she would taste like berries.

Fuck.

I ball up the towel in my lap, hoping that the heap of fabric will hide what’s happening to me. Trying to distract myself, I ask, “What did you want to talk to Conrad about?”

Carissa’s eyes flick up to mine. “Are there cameras in here?” she asks.

“Just one,” I nod, indicating with my chin to the location of the camera mounted on the wall. Carissa turns to look straight at it, which I know the producers hate. She seems to remember herself, because she drops her gaze back to the floor.

“You wearing your mic?” I ask. My eyes trail over her collar bone; I don’t see one of the necklaces they usually use, but there’s no telling what new angles the producers are using at any given time.

Carissa shakes her head.

“Me either. If we get close enough, maybe they won’t hear what you’re saying.” We could also go into another room, but then I won’t have an excuse to touch her.

“Close enough?” She looks at me with those wide eyes, as if she doesn’t know what I mean, but her scent betrays her. I can tell she’s getting excited at the possibility of being close to me. The feeling is decidedly mutual.

As I get to my feet and walk toward her, I tell myself that this is a stupid idea. Fucking stupid, and I know it. Conrad’s out to destroy this girl; what am I doing, getting closer to her? But then I slide down on the couch beside her, and any logic in my head fades away. I touch her chin, lifting her head slightly so I can press a kiss to her neck. Her breath catches in her throat.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Making it look good for the camera, princess,” I purr. I press an open-mouthed kiss to her delicious skin, and let my tongue tease her. Her skin is salty with sweat, and it thrills me. I lick her again.

She lets out a low moan, and my brain short-circuits. Before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve picked her up and placed her firmly in my lap. She gasps as her thighs settle on either side of me, her soft core pressed against my very erect cock. My gym shorts do very little to contain it.

“Oh,” she says, squirming a little. “You’re...”

“Hard for you, princess. Yes, I am.” I thrust my hips upward just once, and she gasps. “Every time I catch a whiff of that fucking scent of yours.” I grip her by her ass and pull her even closer, running my nose along her neck. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear what you have to say.”

---