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She cringes in my arms. “The day you gave it to me was the day I… had to leave.”
Because her designation came through. I recall the other girls whispering and giggling about it that night in the mess hall. It was the only time in my young life I’d ever considered fighting a group of chicks.
Remi stares, willing me to understand some unspoken confession. It takes me a moment, but I finally snap the pieces together. “It was—You reacted to the sweatshirt? To… me?”
Her entire body sags with relief and dejection. She drops her gaze down to my chest. “Yes. And I felt so guilty and embarrassed about it, I just wanted to leave before I saw you and it happened in front of you. It all feels so stupid, now, but at the time, I honestly couldn’t think of anything more humiliating or violating than perfuming for you and forcing you to have to acknowledge it.”
She leans back and bites her lip, apprehension all over her pretty face. Hell. Does she want me and worries I don’t feel the same way? Is she scared I’ll reject her for some reason?
I see the way she holds herself around Smith—all prim and proper, every expression pleasing or passive. I hate the thought of her putting on some sort of act for me.
Fuck that shit. We didn’t need it back when we were friends, and we’re not going to do it now.
I cup my hands around hers, holding them between our chests. “Rems, I just want you to be yourself. And, in case I haven’t made myself clear—I want you. I’m hard because of you—not just your scent or any of the alpha-omega stuff. It’s you.
“If I’m being honest, I always had feelings for you that were… more. I was just an idiot. And we were young. But the way I feel about you has never had anything to do with you being an omega or me being an alpha. Pretty sure I knew you were it for me the second I saw that pink, sparkly butterfly clip in your hair.”
Crystal tears spill over her cheeks, splashing down onto my pecs. I let the purr strangling my lungs come out, unleashing the full force of the deep rattle for the first time in my life.
It feels… good. Really fucking good when she whimpers and scrambles into my lap.
Nothing has ever felt like this, for me. Is this what people are going on about? Why Damon always hit it with as many puck bunnies as he could get his hands on?
I thought there was something wrong with me. A missing piece.
Maybe it’s her.
The way I feel about her. This aching smolder in my middle every time our eyes meet. It warms my blood and fires my nerves until every place her skin brushes mine leaves simmering pleasure behind.
And, God, I want her. My body craves hers in a primal, carnal way I’m unfamiliar with. I can’t explain it—all I know is the thoughts running through my head are new and all-consuming.
How tight and slippery would she feel around my cock? If I made her come, would I be able to feel it, squeezing me? Bringing us even closer?
She tucks her chin into her chest, hiding her face while she whispers, “Can I tell you a secret?”
It’s only fair, since I have a feeling I’ll be confessing a few of my own before the night ends. “Of course.”
“I’ve thought about you,” she whispers. “Every time I have a heat, I—imagining you there with me was the only way I could get through the fear. I always felt safe with you and the pain?—”
She breaks off on a squeak that slices my heart. “—you were the one thing that made me feel better. And then, after it had been years, I thought about what you probably looked like, now… and it always turned me on.”
Her whispered words hit the hollow at the base of my throat and sink down. The feeling—this soaring, bursting, bleeding feeling—in my chest almost overwhelms me.
It’s too much, too soon. To go from years of empty nothing to this…
I breathe hard, bracing myself to tell her what needs to be said. “Remi…”
Jesus.
I never expected I’d ever have to tell anyone this. Never expected anyone would care. But I know Remi does. This will mean something to her, and that’s what matters.
“I never wanted anyone else,” I murmur. “After you left, my alpha and I didn’t even notice other girls. Or guys. And I couldn’t seem to force it, so I just—let it be.”
I look at her, and she stares back. A thousand words fill the silence between us, all of them unspoken but, somehow, understood.
She only says four, but they’re perfect. “You waited for me.”
And, yeah. I really did.
