Page 12 of Omega’s Fever (Prime Match #2)

Milo

I swear Melkham has it in for me. He’ll have had this little trick up his sleeve.

He was just waiting to use it and I let him. He doesn’t like omegas in his courtroom but that was still one shitty move.

The irritating thing is that it’s my own fault. I should have seen it coming.

We’re in a small antechamber outside of the courtroom. There’s a beta officer kneeling at Kellen’s feet fitting him with an ankle monitor.

I’d have seen what Melkham’s was planning if I were in my usual top form, but the suppressants are making me stupid. I’ve never had brain fog like this.

My hands are shaking so badly I have to shove them in my pockets. Yet another side effect of the suppressants. I don’t know how much longer I can keep taking these things. I’ve never felt so ill in my life.

“GPS tracking is activated.” The officer says. “You’re allowed within the city limits and your whereabouts are recorded. Any movement outside of the city will trigger a full alert.”

Kellen sits perfectly still on the metal bench, his massive frame making the holding room feel like a dollhouse. His dark eyes track my every movement. He is still single-handedly the hottest man I have ever set eyes on.

Somehow that makes me irritated and horny at the same time.

Horny because the scent of him still makes me weak at the knees. Irritated because the suppressants are supposed to handle this.

At least I’m not suddenly going to demand that he fucks me right here. Perhaps the pills are working.

“Sign here.” The officer shoves a clipboard at me.

I sign and then hand it back. “I need to make a call.”

I move into the hallway, phone already at my ear. Anne picks up on the second ring.

“Don’t tell me.” Her voice carries that particular tone reserved for junior associates who’ve fucked up spectacularly. “Melkham’s got you on contempt of court.”

She wasn’t happy at the extra filings I did but I’ve been working overtime and through the weekends on the Pemberton merger to make up for it.

“No,” I take a deep breath as I pace the narrow corridor. “He released Kellen into my custody.”

The implications of this are still hitting me. Where is he even going to sleep? I don’t have a second bedroom. The thought sends a spike of pure desire to my groin.

Through the doorway, I see Kellen watching me. He hasn’t moved except to pull the leg of his orange jumpsuit back down over the monitor.

“Oh for the love of Pete,” Anne says. I can practically hear her rubbing her temples. “Melkham’s always been unconventional. Is Hayes with you right now?”

I glance back at Kellen. Still watching. Still silent. “Yes. I’ll bring him back with me. I’ve still got the merger dep—”

“No. Absolutely not. I don’t want him anywhere near our offices. We have clients coming in today.”

I feel another flush of annoyance, at her this time.

What does she think Kellen is going to do?

Set up a gambling ring in the basement? Challenge her to a fist fight?

Steal all the staplers? I’ve never seen him do anything other than sit quietly or be escorted quietly.

He’s the literal embodiment of the strong silent type.

Of course, the other thing he does is fuck me perfectly.

Maybe Anne’s right. I shouldn’t bring him back to the office.

“What am I supposed to do with him?”

“Take him home. He’s supposed to be your mate, after all.” The sarcasm drips through the phone. “Don’t antagonize Melkham further. I’ll see if we can challenge this. But for now? Play nice.”

She hangs up.

It looks like I’m going to have to do this. I go back into the room and say, “Looks like you’re coming home with me.” I’m pleased with how steady my voice is.

Kellen says nothing, unsurprisingly. He just nods and follows me out. He moves with surprising grace for someone his size.

We walk to the parking garage in silence. The chain between his ankles is gone, as are the handcuffs, but he’s still wearing the orange jumpsuit and it is impossible to miss.

People stare. A woman clutches her purse tighter. The security guard at the exit picks up his radio when he sees us, saying something into it and only putting it away when he hears a response from the other side.

My BMW chirps as I unlock it. Kellen attempts to maneuver himself into the passenger seat and suddenly all that grace turns awkward. When he’s finally in, his knees are rammed up against the dashboard.

“The seat goes back further.” I show him where the lever is. He hits it and the chair moves back to his clear relief. At least he fits in it. I wasn’t sure he would.

He shuts his door and I shut mine and his scent hits me full force in the confined space.

Fuck. That primal alpha musk bypasses my rational brain entirely. The suppressants aren’t working. They can’t be. Perhaps they can’t. Perhaps it’s like trying to dam a river with tissue paper.

I risk a glance sideways as I navigate out of the garage.

Kellen stares straight ahead, jaw tight. The orange fabric does nothing to hide his arousal. He’s hard, obviously so, and my mouth goes dry. I think of how he slid inside me inch by delicious inch.

Stop. Drive. Focus on the road.

Traffic crawls through downtown. By the time I pull into my building’s garage, sweat soaks through my shirt and my pants are soaked through.

My doorman does a double-take when we enter the lobby. His gaze travels from Kellen’s jumpsuit to his face to the monitoring device visible at his ankle.

“Everything alright, Mr. Warren?”

“Yes. This is a client.”

He nods slowly, not completely convinced. The elevator ride to the third floor might be the longest three minutes of my life. Kellen takes up too much space. Not just physically, though there’s not a great deal of space for the both of us in the small space. His presence fills every inch.

My hands shake so badly it takes three tries to get my key in the lock. I’m aware of Kellen’s eyes on them, his slight frown. He doesn’t comment.

The door swings open to reveal my apartment. I’ve carefully picked out every piece of furniture. Floor-to-ceiling windows highlight a view of the park opposite. I’ve decorated in shades of blue and white.

Blue has always been my favorite color. I’ve never understood how it isn’t everyone’s. Why wouldn’t you want your world to look like the sky on a summer’s day? I have original art on the walls, picked out from galleries or flea markets or cafes over the years. It’s all stuff that I like.

Growing up, I never had a choice in how my room looked. My uncle was very particular about everything. I’m the same. I suppose I get that from his side of the family, but it meant that my bedroom at his house always felt like the spare room. It never felt like mine.

Now, I’ve decorated exactly the way I want it to be. I don’t have a lot of people over. It’s always felt intrusive to have another person here. My apartment is my space. It’s personal. And now this giant, very attractive man is in my personal space.

Kellen steps inside slowly, taking it all in and suddenly I’m desperate to know what he thinks. Does he like it? Does he like me?

Oh no. I’m not starting that.

Something about Kellen Hayes strips everything away. I’ve built up so much confidence, fought so hard to be independent and now all I can think about is worry about whether he likes me or not. It makes me feel like I’m fifteen again.

Professional. Confident. Competent. That’s my mantra. None of them feel very relevant right now.

I’m very aware that we are completely alone. There is nothing stopping him from taking the three steps between us and bending me over the sofa.

“Would you like something to drink?” The words tumble out too fast. “Coffee? Tea? Water? I have sparkling and still. Or juice. Orange juice. Apple. I think there’s cranberry...”

“No, thank you.”

They’re Kellen’s first words since he spoke up asking Melkham to remove me as his lawyer. His voice rolls through me. I have to lock my knees to keep standing.

“Right. Okay. Let me show you around.” I gesture vaguely at my open plan apartment. “Bathroom’s through there. Kitchen obviously,” I say waving at the open space. “Living room. The couch pulls out into a bed. It’s actually quite comfortable. I’ve fallen asleep on it a few times.”

I know I’m babbling. It’s what I do when I’m nervous. You’d think years of law school would have knocked that out of me but law school taught me to face the opposition, not six-foot something of pure hotness.

“Are you hungry? I can order something. Thai? Chinese? There’s an excellent Italian place that delivers. Or pizza. Everyone likes pizza, right? Unless you’re lactose intolerant. Are you lactose intolerant?”

Oh no, stop babbling. For the love of god, Milo. Stop.

Kellen just watches me, dark eyes unreadable.

I take a deep breath and try to get practical.

He’s going to be here for a few weeks at least and he’s brought nothing with him.

Not an overnight bag or even a change of clothes.

I duck into the bathroom. The vanity yields a spare toothbrush, still in its packaging.

I find a spare towel. I bring them both out and put them on the sofa bed.

“You need clothes.”

I grab my laptop, sink onto the far end of the couch and pull up a same-day delivery site. Kellen hasn’t moved from just inside the door.

“What size...” I look at him. Really look. Broad shoulders, thick chest, arms that strain against the jumpsuit’s fabric. “Extra large? Double extra?”

“Depends on the brand.”

Four more words. We’re having a conversation. Sort of.

I order everything in XXXL. T-shirts, sweatpants, underwear, socks. Basic colors because I don’t know what he likes. Don’t know anything about him except how he tastes and the sounds he makes when he comes and—

“I would never force you.”

The words slice through me. I freeze, finger hovering over the checkout button.

“What?”

Kellen finally moves, taking a single step forward. I fight the urge to scramble backward over the couch.