Page 5 of The Omega Lesson

Mine too, although I don’t mention his taunting comments by the pool. Partially because I’m in denial, but mostly because these boys might be teenagers, but they’re also the city’s elite. And in their world, a high-school rivalry can quickly escalate into a bitter pack feud.

We’re quiet as we walk the rest of the way, the swampland giving way to a strip of old cottage-style houses. This part of the city was built by the early settlers, and everything is lived in, worn down, and a little faded. I tell myself it has the charm of a forgotten era, but my brother Anton would call that polishing a turd.

But I’m not ashamed to admit one of the reasons I took the job is because of the accommodation. The school sprawls across one hundred hectares of undulating bushland, but this little pocket of real estate is mine. For as long as I’m a member of the Prendiville staff, the rent on the cottage is heavily subsidised. And since it’s so close to school, I’m also saving on transportation. Which is just as well, since I had to sell my car to furnish the place.

My brother couldn’t hide his disdain the one time he came to check up on me. But I just focus on the claw-footed bath, the potbelly stove, and the wraparound verandah. The cottage might creak in summer and whistle in winter, but it’s surrounded by gum trees full of black cockatoos, a low-maintenance veggie patch, and a friendly green tree snake that sleeps in the crumbling outhouse at the bottom of the garden. It’s definitely a step down from the sleek riverside mansion where my daughter Bree spends most of her time, but I figure it’s giving her perspective. As long as you have a roof over your head and food on the table, you’re doing okay.

A mantra I mutter under my breath as Matthew follows me up the verandah steps. Once we’re inside, he pauses to lock the door while I flip on the nearest lamp and kick off my heels. I burn scented candles to hide the smell of damp, but it still makes my nose wrinkle as I pad into the kitchen. There’s no bourbon, but I grab a cheap bottle of rosé wine from the fridge and a beer for Matthew. He might be my student, but he’s legal. And it’s not like I can really claim to be the responsible adult in our relationship.

“Bree not here?”

My heart gives a tender pinch at hearing my daughter’s name spoken aloud. It doesn’t happen nearly often enough, since she only lives with me every second weekend. The rest of the time, she’s with my ex, Richard, and his new pack. I tried to get custody, but no judge in the world will give a child to a single mother when there’s a wealthy pack in the mix.

“Ah, bullshit.” Mattie is staring at the calendar by the fridge. “You have to go to the Old Boys’ Dinner? Is Miller making you write an article on it?”

“Yep.” I pour a splash of wine, then add a little more. Because itisbullshit. Unpaid overtime that’s taking me away from my daughter, when I barely get to see her as it is.

“Bummer.” There’s a hitch in his voice and when I glance up, he’s so close beside me I can feel his breath on the side of my face. The sun is finally going down, red-gold rays slanting through the kitchen window and turning his hazel eyes into flames. There are wild flecks of green and gold in the centre, and in this light, it’s like looking into a tiger’s gaze. But his voice is infinitely gentle as he touches my arm. “I’m really sorry, Lexi. I know how hard it is for you to miss a weekend with her.”

If I like hearing Bree’s name spoken aloud, Ilovethe way my name sounds on his lips. It’s only when I realise I’m staring at his perfect red mouth that I turn and carry my wineglass into the lounge room.

It’s really just an alcove off the kitchen, probably meant for a dining table. But since it’s usually dinner for one in this house, I just eat on my lap in front of the potbelly stove. At least the couch is comfortable, since it’s one of my brother’s castoffs, and I drop onto the soft leather cushions with a sigh. “If I get permanency, I’m hoping Richard will give me an extra weekend a month with Bree. Fingers crossed.”

I glance around the room, trying to picture her toys scattered across the floorboards, but it’s hard. She spent all summer in the States with Richard’s pack, so she’s only been here a handful of times. And even then, we were usually too busy rushing in and out from her endless weekend classes to get her properly settled. Ballet, art, karate. Doesn’t matter she’s only four, Richard has her so booked up she only really saw the cottage when she collapsed into bed each night.

And then a random thought hits me.Mattie has been here more times than my own daughter.Which instantly brings me back to tonight’s confrontation… I meanconference. “So, any tips on handling your older brother?”

“Half-brother,” Mattie corrects me, and takes another slug of his beer. His gaze slides away as he starts peeling the paper wrapper off his bottle. “He’s Benjamin Cliff. You must have read about him.”

I shrug, because while I don’t really know anything more than what Robyn told me, the one degree of separation rule applies. Travis Lyall, Benjamin’s best friend and CEO of the Lyall Corporation, was once my brother’s tennis partner. It was forever ago, and not something Anton and I ever talk about, but for a couple of golden summers, Travis Lyall consumed my every waking thought.

I shake off the memory and touch Mattie’s chin, drawing his attention back to me. “I only care about what you tell me.”

But instead of responding, he props his beer bottle on the floor and clambers up beside me. He sits back on his heels, his thin shorts pulling tight over his thighs, but I don’t need to look down to guess what he’s thinking. It’s written right there in his hooded amber eyes. But instead of leaning in to kiss me, he strokes my cheek. “Whatever he says in the meeting, it’s not personal. He just… believes his own bullshit, you know?”

I frown, trying to resist rubbing my face against his palm. It’s cool from the beer bottle, and while I can feel the calluses on his skin, each stroke is a caress. Like he’s touching something delicate, something precious. Which definitely isn’t how most people think of an alpha.

But then, everything about Matthew Cliff surprises me.

Like the way he just studies my face while my brain goes into overdrive.

Touch him. Don’t touch him.

I can almost feel my synapses firing off one bad idea after another.

Lean over and kiss the fuck out of him…

“Matthew…”

But then his fingers are on my lips, an intense look in his eyes. “Just… call me Mattie, Lexi. I don’t want to be Matthew and Miss right now.”

I shouldn’t. Just like he shouldn’t call me by my first name. But I know we’re a long way past following the rules.

And when he comes in for a kiss, I lean forward to meet him. Despite the buildup, it’s slow and sensual, his tongue swiping across my lips in a teasing taste. It definitely doesn’t feel like a teenager’s kiss, although I haven’t got a lot to compare it to. I started dating Richard in high school and was pregnant two years later. And the only other man I’ve been with, I met in a bar. Just to convince myself I was still a desirable person, even after a baby, and an ex who left me for another woman…

I slam down on that spiral so hard, my teeth nip the edge of Mattie’s lip. But instead of driving him away, a groan rattles up his chest, his hands pulling me tighter. It’s only when he yanks me onto his lap that I rise out of my haze. I suck in a desperate gulp of air, my breasts aching and my core throbbing. My skirt is too tight to straddle him properly, but my body knows. One hard thrust and he could be buried where I need him.

Crap.

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