Searching For His Omega - Harper B. Cole Page 0,17

couldn’t blame him. It was me reacting to his presence. One minute I wanted him to fuck me senseless and the next I was considering hiding under the bed.

“What are we cooking?” I wandered into the kitchen and peered in the bags. “I’m hungry.”

Chet raked his eyes over me and mumbled something about dessert as he put a hand on my hip.

“I really am starving.” Wanting to cook and then eat was giving my conflicted emotions a time-out. Besides, I did want to spend time with Chet when we weren’t in bed sucking one another off.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. But you didn’t answer my question.”

“What was it? Your scent’s scrambling my thoughts and it’s hard to concentrate.” He wriggled his hips and broke the tension.

I giggled, and we unpacked the bags. “I’m guessing lasagna.”

“Yep.”

“Won’t that take ages?”

“I cheated and used Ms. Bea’s homemade sauce that I’d seen last night. She said she was honored. So we just have to boil the lasagna noodles, assemble and bake.” He dug into another bag and pulled out snacks. “I brought nibbles.” He leaned over and did the mouth on my ear thing which made we weak at the knees. “Though I’d rather be nibbling you.” He stuck his tongue in the hollow, and my cock reacted.

“Starving, remember?”

“Fine. Spoilsport! You get the water boiling for the noodles, and I’ll mix the cheeses and egg.” He grabbed his phone and chose a playlist. “Ready to dance?”

“No waltzing in the kitchen.” My mind wandered back to the first day in the rose garden.

“Oh, Stan. We’re going on a journey through the decades.”

Music blasted out. I screwed up my face. What? “My nan used to listen to that.”

“She had good taste. Rock n roll. 1960s. Time to do the twist.” He planted his feet on the floor and swung his hips from side to side.

It was mesmerizing. I’d watched my grandmother and her friends reminisce about when they were young and they’d dance in her living room. But seeing Chet do it was a completely different ball game. I wondered if this was how a snake looked as it shed its skin. Sleek, sinewy, and entrancing. I brushed the drool from the corner of my mouth and gulped. Nan’s friends never looked like that.

“It’s the washing-machine dance,” I told him.

“What?” he cupped his ear.

“When I watched Nan and her friends do this, I called it the washing-machine dance,” I yelled. “Hips going one way, upper body going the other.”

“What are you waiting for, Stan? Move those hips.” He turned up the volume and after a moment’s hesitation, I joined him. I closed my eyes and allowed the melody to claim me. I gave myself to it completely by breathing in the pulse of the music until it flowed through my veins. My body responded and swayed.

Chet leaned back and put his weight on one foot, while the rhythm spoke to me and I went low, bending my knees and rotating my hips before going back up.

“Yes!” he cried.

“Yes!” I repeated. I’d been tired from the day at work, but dancing with Chet energized me. Just as I was really getting into it with one foot staying still while moving my other heel, the music faded. “No! That was too short.” I used my T-shirt to wipe sweat from my brow.

“Wait for it,” Chet said as the strains of funky music flowed from the phone.

“Disco? Seriously?” Does this guy live in the 21st century?

“Why not?” He did the classic pose of finger pointed upward. Anyone else doing disco in my kitchen would have been sad, but I was so turned on. Chet took a few steps forward and then back and did an arm roll.

I had no choice. When someone you’re attracted to—and who has sucked you off—does disco in your house, you have no choice but to join in. But as we hustled our way back and forth over the floor, I couldn’t take my eyes off Chet's hips. There should be a law against them. They were going to get me into trouble. Something I welcomed.

Since the accident, I’d been scared to get out of my comfort zone. Even though I’d wanted this job, I’d almost done a runner on the first day as it was all so new. But now the town had welcomed me, I was more at peace with who I was and what had happened to me, I was ready for me-time.

As we were bumping and grinding our way around one another, Chet held