Page 107 of Run Wild Omega
“Thank you,” she whispers, her warm breath fanning over my fingers. “For not judging me.”
“Never, Tess.”
Then her scent hits me.
It’s not just sweet—it’s crisp, bright, and utterly intoxicating, like ripe autumn apples. The sudden wave floods the room, hitting my senses like a physical blow. My pulse spikes, my biology roaring to life with an intensity that completely shatters my analytical edge.
My thumb slips past her lip, pressing deeper, touching the slick, warm interior of her mouth. Tess doesn’t pull away. Her eyes lock onto mine, dark and heavy, and her tongue swirls around the pad of my thumb before she sucks softly.
Fuck.
The curse rips through my mind as heat rushes straight to my groin. I pull my thumb free, grab her by the waist, and lift her onto my lap in one fluid motion.
She lands with a gasp, her cast hooked awkwardly over the edge of the sofa, but she doesn’t even pause. Her arms wrap around my neck like she’s been doing this for years. I crush my mouth against hers.
She tastes like tequila and salt and something underneath both of those that’s purely, devastatingly her. I kiss her deep, swallowing the little sound she makes when I drag my lips down her jaw to her neck.
That’s where the apple scent is strongest. Right there, along her pulse, where the skin is thinnest and warmest. I can also smell Wyatt, faint but unmistakable. He scented her hours ago, and it’s still there, clinging to her.
Something possessive and ugly and completely primal rears up in my chest. I lick over the spot. Press my teeth there. Claim it.
She arches into me with a broken groan. “Miles…”
Her hands drop to my waist. Her fingers fumble with my belt, yank the buckle loose, and begin pulling at the button of my jeans.
One second of clarity pierces through the fog.
I catch her wrists, gently trapping them against my chest. “Tess, wait,” I pant, my chest heaving. “Stop. You’ve had too much to drink.”
Instead of stopping, she leans forward and licks the sensitive skin over my Adam’s apple. My head snaps back. She wrestles her hands free, tangling her fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck and pulling me back down to her.
“You smell so fucking good,” she murmurs against my mouth.
Before I can push her back, Tess shifts her weight. She rolls her hips forward, grinding down hard against the rigid length of my erection trapped behind my jeans.
A ragged gasp hitches in my throat. The friction is agonizingly perfect.
“Tess, don’t—”
She doesn’t listen. She arches into me, rolling her hips again in an agonizingly slow rhythm. The heat of her body pressing directly into my lap, combined with the intoxicating flood of crisp apple scent wrapping around us, utterly destroys my resolve. My hands leave her wrists and slam onto her hips, holding her tight—not to pull her away, but to press her closer.
She grinds down a third time, rolling seamlessly against me, and a ragged groan tears from my chest. My hips twitch upward involuntarily, matching her rhythm for one desperate second. The intense, unyielding friction through our clothes is too much. My body locks up, a hot, overwhelming wave crashing straight through my spine as I blow right into my briefs.
I drop my forehead against her shoulder, panting heavily, my hands gripping her waist as my whole body trembles through the release.
Tess stills beneath me, a mischievous giggle bubbling up from her chest as she feels my body go completely rigid and then collapse against her.
“Miles?” she whispers, her voice dripping with playful satisfaction. She leans back, heavy-lidded eyes searching mine. “Did you just come?”
I nod.
“Can I see?”
I catch my breath, a wave of sheer disbelief and embarrassment flushing through me, though a quiet affection washes over it just as fast.
“Maybe tomorrow,” I rasp, my voice entirely shot.
Using the absolute last drop of my self-control, I gently slip my hands under her arms and lift her off my lap. I pick her up into my arms, keeping her heavy cast steady, and carry her down the short hallway into the bedroom.
