Page 18

Chapter Eighteen

P ressing my hand against her back, I lead Posie to a table in the corner, glowering at anyone who dares glance her way. The simple pink dress she has on is enough to make me murderous. It hugs every curve of her delectable body, and the V-neck gives me enough of a glimpse of her cleavage to leave my already rock-hard cock angry and straining.

Maybe going out wasn’t a good idea.

Her sweet perfume drives me insane, and I fear its extra-deep notes may entice every Alpha within fifty miles. She’s lush, stunning, and mine . The sooner my mark’s on her neck, the better.

Posie gifts me with a broad smile as I pull out her chair, letting her soft curves press against me as she takes her seat. Unable to control my instincts, I brush my cheek against hers, scent marking her to let all the other horny bastards in this place know she’s mine.

Her eyes widen innocently, and a blush tinges her cheeks. So. Fucking. Cute.

The other chair sits across from hers, but I can’t bear the idea of being that far apart now she’s allowed me a taste, so I draw it closer, not caring in the least that it causes multiple sets of eyes to swivel in our direction.

“Miller, what are you doing?” she hisses, bringing her hand up to cover her face.

“The other side is too far away,” I explain, settling next to her and dropping my hand onto her knee. She jumps at the touch but doesn’t move away, which I put in the win column.

For some reason, Posie seems skittish about all of this, and I’m determined to get to the bottom of it. I’ve been stalking my omega for several years. And while I thought she might not want me because of Owen, he hasn’t been mentioned at all.

It’s more like she doesn’t believe you could want her.

A low growl rumbles from my chest, and she presses her hand to the top of mine. Her instincts wanting to soothe my surly nature. And it does. Nothing else matters now that we’re together with no chaperones or barriers between us.

“Hello. Anything to drink?” A waiter intrudes on the moment, and it takes everything in me not to punch him in the dick.

“I’ll have a lemon water, please,” Posie replies with a little smile. The small gesture has my instincts raging, wanting to keep every quirk of her sexy pink lips for myself.

“Whatever IPA you have on draft,” I say, frowning in his direction. The waiter’s hands shake, sensing the danger, and he scurries away. Good. Not ready to dive right into the deep shit, I search for something simple to talk about, even though my brain wants to tell her everything and beg her to move in with me.

Twisting my body, I study her as she stares at the menu and nibbles on her pouty bottom lip.

“What looks good?” I ask, already knowing that I want baked ziti. She bites down harder, and for a second, I worry that she’ll draw blood, so I reach forward and release the poor abused flesh with my thumb. “No one bites that lip but me.”

A shiver overtakes her, and a burst of her perfume saturates the air, making my knot respond with a throb.

“I think the house salad,” she whispers, her pupils dilating. Anger has me seeing red, knowing that her choice is because of the awful date Owen mentioned.

“But you hate salad,” I say, squeezing her knee. Before I get a chance to delve too far into whatever the fuckwad said to make her want to count her calories, the server returns with our drinks.

“And are you ready to order?” he asks, keeping his eyes off Posie this time. Guess he’s a quick learner.

“Yeah. I’ll have the baked ziti, and she’ll have the chicken parmesan with linguini instead of spaghetti,” I answer, rattling off her favorite meal and preferred substitutions. For a moment, her nose scrunches as though she might argue, but something flits over her face, and she takes a sip of her water instead.

“Very good, sir,” he says, clicking his heels smartly and still not glancing at my omega. “I’ll be back with some bread.”

The man disappears, and Posie squints in my direction, clearly puzzled about why I changed her order. Trailing my hand up her silken thigh, I push the hem of the pink dress higher, bending lower so I can take in deep hits of her sweet scent.

She’s frowning, but there’s no burned tinge to her candy cotton, so she’s not truly annoyed. As I suspected, she didn’t want the freaking salad.

“No bird food for you, Puff,” I mutter in her ear. “I love every single one of your curves. And the things I want to do to you this weekend—you’re gonna need all the energy.”

My hand lifts higher, massaging her upper thigh, and she reaches down to grab it in a surprisingly firm grip to stop my momentum. Posie’s message is clear: she’s running this show, and I can respect it—even if I’m dying to see how adventurous she can be. Giving in, I flip it over and twine her fingers with mine.

The contact relaxes her fractionally, but there’s still an uncomfortable tension between us, and I don’t know where to start. How do you tell someone you’ve been in love with them for years?

Stalking them?

Memorizing every little thing about them?

When in their eyes, you’ve only existed as their brother’s best friend. Worry comes out of left field, slithering through me, and I wonder if I’m playing this all wrong. As a catcher, I read the field, gathering intentions and figuring out the right plays, and if I fuck up, we lose.

If I fuck up here, the loss will be catastrophic.

The silence between us grows, and I run my hand through my hair, attempting to release the restless energy building in my legs. Perhaps I should just snatch her up, bring her to my apartment, and never let her leave—or better yet, the mansion I bought for us.

Posie’s scent becomes sourer with every passing second, so I do the only thing I can think of to break the tension.

“Truth or dare?” I whisper, squeezing her hand even though mine is slippery with sweat. The silly question makes her snort with surprise, then giggle as she looks up at me from beneath her lashes. It’s like the sun peeking from behind the clouds, instantly lightening the mood.

“Are we children again?” she asks primly, but she can’t fool me. There’s mischief sparking behind those chocolate orbs; my girl wants to play.

“Always. Now answer. Truth or dare,” I order, and she bites her lip in thought.

“Hummmm.” She taps her lips, eyes darting around the room. “Dare.”

Hell yeah. I want her truths more than anything, but the fun of a dare excites the hell out of me.

“Oh, you’re in for it, Puff,” I say, and her nose once again wrinkles at the nickname. I file that away for one of my truth questions. “I dare you to slide those naughty panties to the side, lift that sexy dress and let me see that pretty pink pussy right here at the table.”

“Seriously?” A spike of her perfume bursts around us, and her cheeks burn with a red flush that spreads down her chest. Her nerves and excitement make her pupils dilate when I nod and lick my lips.

Ever so slowly, she reaches for the hem of her dress, sliding it up inch by inch. Turning my body, I make sure absolutely no one can see around my bulky frame. This show is for me and me alone.

The dress reaches the apex of her thighs, and I hold my breath, ready to see nirvana.

“Show me, baby. Show me that perfect omega cunt,” I growl, and she gasps but follows through, showing me a pair of lacy black panties that will remain forever etched in my memories. Ripping them to the side, she quickly flashes me a peek at what’s hidden between her legs before slamming them back together. Lust spears me, but her delighted grin is everything.

“That barely counts,” I complain with a lighthearted smile, feeling lucky to spend time basking in her presence.

“It so counts,” she smirks. “Your turn. Truth or dare.”

“Truth,” I say, turning the tables. My hand falls back to her leg, fully focused on getting a taste of the sweetness between her thighs. “But first, spread for me. I’ll die without a taste.”

“Miller,” she protests, but her body listens, and my fingers find her soaked center. Sliding through her slippery folds, I gather her juices and bring them to her clit. “Oh. Ohhhh.”

“Your question, Posie. Ask me.” I circle the sensitive bundle of nerves unrelentingly until more slick leaks into my hand, and she squirms in the seat.

“D-do you really want me?” She bites her lip hard, but isn’t able to stop her breathy moan.

“I always have,” I tell her truthfully, stilling as I sense a presence approaching.

“But … that can’t be true…” Flipping down her dress, I make sure she’s fully covered before removing my hand. Her brows wrin kle in confusion, but when she glances over my shoulder, her mouth drops open in surprise.

The waiter places our food on the table, and I bring my fingers to my lips, shiny with slick. Ever so slowly, I run my tongue over them, dipping into the valleys between, getting every drop of her flavor. Posie’s breath hitches, her eyes darkening with lust.

“Enjoy your meal,” he says.

“Oh, it’s delicious,” I say, keeping my eyes locked with Posie’s as cotton candy explodes across my tongue. “Nothing better.”

He leaves, and I bring us back to the conversation at hand. I need to understand the barrier stopping my omega from being mine. Too much time’s already been wasted keeping my distance and stalking her from the shadows.

Now that I’ve had a taste, there’s no going back.

“Tell me why I can’t want you,” I demand, infusing a bit of command in the tone to keep her from hiding the truth.

“Because I killed your parents,” she whispers… and the floor falls out beneath me.