Lola & the Millionaires: Part One (Sweet Omegaverse #2)(18)

I was busy drinking him in by sunlight, the slight wave in his rich black hair and the soft dent beneath his full lower lip. I nodded for him to continue.

“Is my pack going to be an obstacle if I want to see you again?” he asked.

His fingers on my thighs gave the faintest encouragement to open, so light I could’ve ignored the suggestion without any effort. I parted them slowly, and Leo filled the space until the sensitive skin of my legs was bracing against the soft fabric of his pants.

His question sank in slowly, and I found myself tensing slightly as I gave it thought. Could I get involved with a man who was bonded to an alpha? Sure, I was already in regular contact with one alpha from his pack, but that was a simple arrangement. Cyrus was my boss, there was no question that in our relationship, he held the power. What kind of demands could Leo’s alpha make on me if I was in a relationship with the beta?

Leo was patient, he didn’t push or speak a word while I thought, but he raised one hand from my leg and brushed his fingertips up my jaw. My eyelids fell shut and I leaned into the touch. God, I hadn’t realized how totally touch starved I was until this morning.

“I…”

I needed to say ‘no,’ to put myself squarely out of reach of this pack, even if that did make it impossible between Leo and I. Since when did I really want a relationship, anyway? I had my weekend hookup habit for a reason.

Except that reason was that I didn’t want anyone to see what a complete disaster I was, and Leo had already witnessed that for himself. What was he even still doing here?

“They won’t touch me?” I asked. What was I doing? Leo couldn’t promise that to me, not if his alpha didn’t want him to.

“No one is going to touch you without your express interest, Lola,” Leo said, his voice taking on a rough edge. My eyes opened and found a deep groove between Leo’s eyebrows, his jaw ticking. “I know you don’t know them. You don’t really know me. But I can promise you not one of my pack would ever disregard your comfort or consent.”

“This would just be between us?” I asked in a whisper, my eyes burning.

He dipped his head, gaze holding mine. “Just us.”

I sighed out, breath trembling. I wanted this. I wanted someone to see me.

You’re going to shatter this time.

I leaned in and Leo was there, his nose grazing against mine, foreheads touching. For a moment, we just breathed together. I hadn’t had anything but brief club quickies for a year, no hesitation and no lingering. My whole body felt like a raw nerve waiting for a blow to hit and to prove that snarling version of my mother’s voice in my head right. Leo waited, one sticky thumb stroking the inside of my thigh, his other hand cupping my neck gently.

I tipped my head back and our mouths slid smoothly together, soft puzzle pieces shifting closer and blending sweet, brief movements into a slow series of kisses. There was fruit and cream and sugar on our lips, and a little taste of mint on his tongue as it swept against the seam of my mouth and then retreated again. His hand on my thigh shifted to the back of my hip, pulling me to the edge of the counter until we were flush from chest to hips. I slid my arms over his shoulders and crossed my legs behind his back, waiting and curious to see if the mood would escalate.

Leo hummed into the kiss, and I thought I could feel him stirring with arousal against the thin material of my sleep shorts, but neither of us took it any further than the decadent, drugging kisses. Gradually, kissing turned back into breathing, and I turned my head to feel his stubble scuff against my cheek.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Hm? Which part?” His voice was rough and low, and it sent a light shiver down my back and warmth pooling in my core.

About me, I thought.

“That this is okay,” I said instead.

Leo huffed, and his breath raised goosebumps on my neck. “I’m sure. More than. We’ll take it slow.”

I nodded. Slow was good. Slow gave plenty of time for warning.





I had Leo’s number—along with a waffle maker, which I hadn’t really settled on how to process—when he left that afternoon. I also had a serious case of beard burn on my lips and neck, and a frustratingly stubborn case of arousal.

My phone rang while I was in the bath, trying and failing to—ahem—handle the arousal issue on my own. I huffed and sagged in the cooling water. I should’ve talked Leo into fingering me again. He almost kind of owed me one anyway, since the last orgasm had been spoiled when I freaked out at the sight of his bondmark.

I gave up on my ‘relaxing’ bath and wrapped myself up in my fluffy robe, rushing to my bedroom to catch the call before it dropped.

“David!”

“Are you all right?”

I gaped at my empty bedroom. “I…” Was David somehow suddenly aware of my inability to get myself off? And if so why? And how fucking awful.

“I spoke to Cyrus.”

“Oh. God, really?” I grumbled and curled up on the foot of my bed, glancing at the still dented pillow where Leo had slept. I flopped down into the spot and rolled my face into the mattress, breathing in his clean smell and maybe huffing that warm alpha tone too. Just a little. It was harmless if I never intended to have any contact with him, right? “I’m okay,” I mumbled, still holding the phone to my ear.

“Don’t be embarrassed.”