Page 68 of The Boss Omega
I give my reflection one last look, then head downstairs.
The house is quiet when I reach the kitchen. None of the others are around, which I assume is intentional. Silas might be orchestrating this whole “proper date” situation, but he also understands privacy.
Graham is already there. I stop in the doorway and rake my eyes over his long form. Corduroy blazer. Navy trousers. A crisp white button-down. And dark-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. The overall effect is devastating. Graham in professor mode might actually be my personal kryptonite.
He looks up from the counter and pauses when he sees me. For a moment he just watches me. Then his expression softens. “Beautiful.”
He crosses the kitchen in a few long steps and folds me into his arms. I go there willingly. His arms tighten, and something about the simple contact sends a quiet little flutter through my chest. Hispurr roars to life and I sink in closer, rubbing my cheeks along his chest.
After a moment he pulls back slightly. “Oh,” he says suddenly, like he’s just remembered something important. “I almost forgot.”
He reaches over to the counter and picks up a small package wrapped in brown paper and tied with neat twine. “For you,” he says.
My eyebrows lift. “For me?”
“A courting gift.”
My omega perks up immediately.
I take the package and untie the twine, sliding the paper away. Inside is a small frame. At first I don’t understand what I’m looking at. Then it clicks.
It’s an aerial photo of the pack house. The river curves in front of it in a wide green arc. The trees stretch out along the riverwalk, and the house itself sits in the middle of the frame, standing tall in its green and charcoal old-fashioned grandeur.
“I used a drone to capture it,” Graham tugs nervously at his cuffs. “It’s the closest angle I could get to the view you would have had from your living room window when you looked out with Cammie.”
My throat tightens.
“You didn’t know it yet,” he continues, pushing his glasses up his nose, “but that was your pack house.” His voice softens. “And you were already drawn to it.”
That does it. My insides dissolve into complete mush. It’s frankly humiliating.
Even though I run a company for omegas, I’ve never been one to give into my omega urges. I’ve always prided myself on being the rational one. The practical one. I don’t take nesting days when I’m overwhelmed. I don’t whine for an alpha, well, except formyalphas.And I would have confidently argued that I would absolutelynotgo soft and gooey over a courting gift.
Yet here I am. Heart racing. Insides melted into jelly. Panties slick. Although that last one might have more to do with Graham than the gift. He has a way of doing that to me.
I set the frame carefully on the counter and look back up at him. “You’re perfect,” I whisper.
He opens his mouth. Closes it. “I thought you might like it,” he says finally.
I step forward and kiss him. First, it’s soft. Sweet. Then his hands slide around my waist and pull me closer, and suddenly the kiss deepens. Heat curls low in my stomach and my perfume explodes. Graham groans into my mouth.
My fingers slide into his hair. “Maybe,” I murmur against his lips, “we skip the date and go upstairs instead.”
For a moment I think he might agree. Then he pulls back with visible effort, resting his forehead against mine. “No,” he says gently.
I blink up at him.
“You deserve to be courted properly,” he says. “You’re the omega of my dreams, Lark.”
My heart does a very erratic little flip. I've been called a lot of things. Boss bitch. Visionary. Difficult. Impressive. No one has ever saidthatbefore.
“And that means dates,” he adds firmly. “And courting gifts. And all the things you deserve.”
He takes a slow breath and steps back, clearly gathering his self-control. Then he offers me his hand. “You ready?” he asks.
“I think so.”
His smile grows a little wider as he leads me toward the door. “I’ve been looking forward to this,” he says.
