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I really don’t know how this always happens to me.
I was eating a sandwich, and then that led to needing a new shirt because of a mustard stain. But my shirts were wrinkled so I had to steam one, and while I was running hot water, I decided to shower…
Whatever. The rest of pack knows better than to expect me to be on time anyway. I’m only prompt for gamedays. And that’s because Ronan usually barks me out of the house.
The elevator crawls up to the top floor of our team facility, where all the pencil pushers spend their days. Damn, the thing is extra slow.
Maybe I should get out and take the stairs. But my knee already hurts like a bitch today. No point risking it five days before our season opener. Declan would be so pissed. Arch, too.
Ronan would just kill me on the spot.
Still, my brain pinballs, restless as ever. My tapping foot practically shakes the whole cart.
I’m a big dude. One of the biggest tight ends in the League. It’s sort of amazing the elevator can move me at all.
The doors finally roll open, and I start to rush out.
But the world stops.
Oh holy fuck.
Omega.
I stagger back like I’ve been shot. In a way, I have. Shot with pure fucking adrenaline.
My heart hammers, inflating my cock with each pounding pump. I feel my throat go dry while my mouth fills with saliva, my teeth aching as much as my dick.
Dear God.
What is a perfuming omega doing in our building? In our elevator? Doesn’t she know how dangerous it is for her in a building brimming with unbonded alphas?
With me?
The guy currently seconds away from grabbing her plush little hips and sinking his teeth into the gorgeous, perfectly blank line of her throat?
If she notices me at all, she doesn’t let on. In fact, she looks flustered as hell. Her hands quiver while she repeatedly brushes them over her skirt, smoothing it like she’s worried someone will look at it for a moment too long…
The doors close behind her as she blows out big breath.
Inhales.
And fucking freezes.
Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.
She raises her chin and looks up at me. I look back at her and watch her realize what she’s done. Watch her gulp down my scent the same way I’m huffing hers.
The mouth-watering aroma of peach cobbler has already filled the entire lift. So delicious—the syrupy, juicy flavor of peaches mixed with brown sugar and butter. Fucking oh my Goddddd.
I reach behind my body and grip the steel bar along the edge of the cart, holding on for dear life.
Do not lunge at the omega.
Do not scare the omega.
Do not rut the omega into the doors.
As if she’s reading my mind, the little omega falls back into the closed doors. A small whine spills from the back of her throat, the sound absolutely wrecking me. My instincts claw at the inside of my chest, demanding I comfort the sweet creature filling my body with pheromones.
