Page 15 of Stolen Omega

She’s not in that state right now. If I kiss her, she might kiss me back.

“Will you watch it with me?” she asks as she picks up the TV remote from the coffee table.

I blink as I try to remember what we were talking about before I zoned out.

Glancing at the screen, I realize she’s talking about a movie.

Right. Another night, another movie.

“As long as it’s not a horror movie,” I tell her with a smile.

She laughs. “It definitely won’t be.”

I cross to the window while she turns on the TV and searches for something to watch.

The night sky is clear. I can see the stars twinkling brightly out there.

My dick doesn’t settle down, and I doubt it will.

I’ve had a taste of my Omega mate’s perfume. I’m going to crave it now like I need it to breathe.

“Ugh, the movies on this thing don’t change very often,” Zelena complains from the sofa.

“I’m fine with a re-watch,” I tell her, in case she wants to watch something we’ve already seen.

In truth, there’s no way in hell I’ll be concentrating on what’s on the TV screen tonight.

There’s way too much else going on in my mind.

Pulling the shades closed on the night sky, I try a little harder to compose myself.

Thinking about the job helps. I’m supposed to be ready for every contingency.

Right now, I’m only ready for one, and it’s definitely not something that’s covered by my training.

The knock on the door has me reaching for my weapon and moving past Zelena to cover her.

“Ooh, that must be dinner,” Zey murmurs behind me, reminding me how unlikely it would be for an attacker to knock.

I move toward the door quickly, pushing the gun back into its holster as I go.

Being a little jumpy is better than being unprepared, so I’m not going to beat myself up over it.

At least my reflexes are still working if something unexpected does go down.

I check the peephole and knock back to the security guard outside.

He calls out, “Room service guy is here.”

Then, he opens the door.

I examine the Beta server who’s standing in the hallway with the tray.

It’s the same skinny guy in his early twenties who’s shown up the last few nights.

When I take the tray out of his hands, he looks crestfallen, but he doesn’t say a word.

My colleague who’s on guard by the door tips him before he starts to walk away.

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