Page 4 of Risque (Pack It In #1)
Jaxon
He’s a fucking distraction.
I have no idea what Jasmine was thinking when she shoved this doe-eyed Omega into my office. He smells like a fucking garden of citrus and it’s doing all sorts of weird things to me. I’m hard and trying really hard not to terrify the man by growling at him every time he shifts away from me.
The worst part is that I’ve never been attracted to a guy, aside from the fact that he has to be younger than Nolan. And when he called me Sir…
“Sir? I finished one.”
I grunt at the way his fingers tremble when he slides one of the papers across the desk to me.
His elegant handwriting belies his shy demeanor, the bright smile on his face something I’ve missed in this office.
Selena used to smile like that, lighting up a room with that powerful laugh of hers.
It was hard not to be happy when she was around.
I stare down at the description on the paper, frowning at the vivid word choices the Omega chose. It’s a perfect experience of what I’ve felt over the years with my creations, a feeling I crave to have again. He grins up at me, a slather of icing on his lower lip.
“I know you said not to talk but it was really good. The raspberries and honey mixed together is delicious. It felt like summer and warmth. That’s what you wanted, right?
Is it really okay that I’m eating this?” His big brown eyes widen impossibly further, his nostrils flaring as they take in my scent. We’re both reacting to each other.
This is dangerous as fuck.
“Yes, that’s good. Work on the next one.
” I immediately reach for the phone and dial the lab downstairs.
They’ve been waiting for my review of the newest line of delectables but I haven’t had the time.
Truthfully, I can’t taste shit and no one outside of Jasmine and the last few assistants have been able to tell.
Without my sense of smell or taste, I can’t even review my own goddamn product.
The Beta on the other side of the phone drops into his spiel about each product but I’m only half listening, eyeing the Omega beside me who is way too excited chomping away at the sweets.
In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so happy to eat anything from Epicurea.
The way his eyes light up and the way he wiggles in his seat has me reaching down to adjust myself.
His scent sweetens further, although he doesn’t seem to notice, the Omega gleefully scratching down his experience on paper.
He’s adorable.
That’s the word I was looking for. Those black curls bouncing on his head as he takes another little nibble, savoring every bite.
“Mr. Holt?”
“Right, yes. I apologize. I’ve tasted what you’ve brought me. I’ve got some notes jotted down that should help with the marketing. You’ll need to pass this along to Schumer in advertising.”
“Of course, sir.”
I read off the Omega’s notes, not leaving anything out.
He writes a better summary than half my staff, describing the entire experience as if the delicacy transported him to a beach.
He even added something he didn’t like—that the bitter taste at the end ruined the entire fantasy.
I read that part out aloud as well, confused.
Many of the executives praised our products for that bitter aspect but the Omega beside me despised it.
We were selling desserts but to him we were selling fantasies.
It was something I had said nearly fifteen years ago when starting this company. I wanted to sell dreams through soft sugars and healthy drinks.
I read off the next few papers the Omega slides to me, his scent so sickeningly sweet that I nearly excuse myself from his side. However, I can’t imagine being anywhere other than right here and the thought of anyone else being at this Omega’s side makes me furious.
With each paper, there’s an experience and then something the Omega doesn’t like. It’s infuriating that I have disappointed this Omega and even more infuriating that I’m mad about it. What does he know about Epicurea and its mission?
I throw the Beta a hasty goodbye before turning to face the Omega, his cheeks puffed out with one of the delicacies, his face flushed in embarrassment.
However, beneath all that, there’s a bit of pride.
As if he’s not angry that I used his descriptions but proud that he could be part of the process.
He whines at the expression on my face before chewing quickly and bowing his head.
“Sorry. They’re really good. I didn’t want them to go to waste. Wait, did you want some?”
Tears gather in his eyes as he looks at the empty tray and then back at me, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout.
I’ve never dealt with Omegas before. I have no experience with them other than in a textbook over twenty years ago in a biology class.
My partners have always been Alphas and the only kid in my relationship was Nolan—Selena’s ex’s child. Also an Alpha.
“No, I’m good. You did well.”
Instantly, that smile is back on his face, my attention darting to the small bit of icing lingering at the corner of his lips. Everything in me is telling me to lean closer and lick it off of him but that would be crossing a line.
Instead, I reach forward and wipe it off with my thumb, intent on showing it to the Omega what a mess he’s made. I don’t expect to find him sucking my digit between those sinful lips and sucking it deeper into his mouth.
A low, growly sound tears from my chest as I watch his eyes flutter closed, both of us enraptured by the other. The longer he sucks, the more I want to drag him into my lap. Taste him. Consume him. Knot him.
Fuck.
I pull away from him, retrieving my thumb, and push his chair back to where it originally was at the corner of my desk. “Great. It’s lunchtime. Go get yourself something to eat.” The Omega can’t seem to scramble out of my office fast enough, his heady citrus scent lingering after he’s gone.
I finally relax back in my seat, palming my cock through my pants.
My hips pump up to meet my hand, a long, low groan filtering through my lips.
The right thing to do is call Jasmine and tell her to find another assistant.
But some primal part of me won’t allow that Omega to be anywhere other than at my side now.
Professionalism be damned.
Now, I just need to figure out his name.