Chapter 14
1524words
I was nursing my second beer when Jeremy from Accounting slid onto the barstool beside me.
"So," he said with the directness of the slightly inebriated, "you and Lawson, huh?"
I kept my expression neutral. "What about us?"
"Come on, Noah." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "The whole office is talking. You're the only person he doesn't terrify. Plus, you're always in his office with the door closed."
"We work closely on the Henderson account," I said, which was true enough.
Jeremy snorted. "Right. And he brings all his employees lunch personally."
I stilled. "What?"
"Saw him at your office door last week. Brown paper bag from that fancy sandwich place." Jeremy grinned. "The Ice King doesn't fetch lunch for anyone, man."
I took a careful sip of beer. "Morris and I have a good working relationship. That's all."
"Morris, huh?" Jeremy raised an eyebrow. "The rest of us still call him Mr. Lawson or sir."
Before I could respond, a familiar voice cut in. "Kingsley. A word?"
Morris stood behind us, expression unreadable. Jeremy nearly fell off his stool in surprise.
"Mr. Lawson! I thought you'd left."
"Evidently." Morris's tone could have frozen fire. "Kingsley?"
I followed him to a quiet corner, aware of curious eyes tracking our movement.
"Problem?" I asked quietly.
"We need to be more careful," he murmured. "I came back because I forgot my phone and overheard..."
"Jeremy's just fishing. Office gossip."
Morris's jaw tightened. "It's starting already. I knew this would happen."
"Hey." I resisted the urge to touch him. "It's fine. People always gossip about the boss. Doesn't mean they know anything."
He didn't look convinced. "I should go. Separately."
"Morris—"
"I'll see you later," he said, then added quietly, "my place?"
I nodded, watching him leave with his perfect posture and measured stride. Twenty minutes later, I made my own exit, ignoring Jeremy's knowing smirk.
At Morris's penthouse, I found him pacing, jacket discarded, tie loosened.
"It's not a crisis," I said, closing the door behind me.
"It could become one." He ran a hand through his hair. "If the board gets wind of this—"
"Of what, exactly?" I interrupted. "Two consenting adults in a relationship? It's not 1950, Morris."
"It's not about that. It's about perception. Power dynamics. If they think I'm compromised—"
"Are you?" I challenged. "Has being with me affected your business decisions?"
"No, of course not."
"Then what's the real issue here?"
He stopped pacing, shoulders slumping slightly. "If they start looking closer at me, at us... they might see what I really am."
And there it was—the real fear. Not of our relationship being discovered, but of his carefully constructed identity unraveling.
I crossed to him, taking his face in my hands. "Listen to me. You are not defined by your designation. You're Morris fucking Lawson. You built this company into what it is today. Omega, Alpha, whatever—that doesn't change what you've accomplished."
His hands came up to grip my wrists, not pulling away but holding on. "It's not that simple."
"It can be," I insisted. "Not overnight, but eventually."
Later that week, the full moon approached. It would be Morris's third since stopping suppressants, but the first where he'd be fully conscious of the changes. The previous two had been managed with increasing success—the first with me simply holding him through the worst of it, the second with only minimal discomfort.
"I want to try something different this time," he said the night before.
We were in his bed, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on his bare chest.
"Different how?"
"I want to... let it happen. Not fight it." His voice was hesitant. "But I'm afraid of what you'll see."
I propped myself up on one elbow. "Morris, I've already seen you at your most vulnerable. Nothing about your wolf form could possibly change how I feel about you."
"It's not just physical changes," he explained. "It's... instincts. Omega instincts."
I understood his fear—that his carefully controlled persona would be stripped away completely, leaving only the nature he'd fought so hard to suppress.
"I'll be right here," I promised. "Whatever happens."
The next night, as moonlight flooded the bedroom, I watched Morris's transformation with awe. He stood naked by the window, his muscles rippling beneath his skin as the change took hold. His fingers flexed, nails extending slightly as he gripped the windowsill. A sheen of sweat broke across his back as his spine arched. His canines elongated, his facial structure subtly shifting—not a full wolf form, but something between human and wolf.
"How do you feel?" I asked softly, leaning forward on the bed.
He turned to me, eyes glowing gold. "Free," he whispered, voice deeper than usual. He rolled his shoulders back, stretching his neck from side to side.
I opened my arms, and he came to me with predatory grace. He dropped to his knees between my legs, hands sliding up my thighs, fingers digging into the flesh. He nuzzled into my neck, teeth grazing my pulse point. His hands slid under my shirt, palms flat against my ribs, thumbs circling my nipples until they hardened under his touch.
"Your scent," he murmured against my throat, his tongue laving a hot path up to my ear where he bit gently on the lobe. "It grounds me." His hands gripped my waist, pulling me to the edge of the bed until our bodies pressed together, his arousal evident against me. He began unbuttoning my shirt with deliberate slowness, his breath hot against my collarbone as he kissed each new inch of exposed skin.
I ran my fingers through his coarser hair, tugging lightly to expose more of his neck, which I leaned down to taste. He growled, the sound vibrating against my lips as I sucked a mark into his skin. My other hand traced down his chest, nails dragging lightly over his nipples, making him shudder against me. I let my palm slide lower, over the ridges of his abdomen, feeling them contract under my touch.
"And now?" I asked, wrapping my legs around his waist to pull him closer, grinding against him in a slow, deliberate motion that made us both gasp.
"Now I can't imagine being without you," he confessed. He took my hand, kissing each knuckle before placing it over his heart. Then he rose up, pushing me back onto the bed, his body covering mine. His mouth found mine in a hungry kiss, tongues sliding together as his hips rocked against me. His hands framed my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones with surprising tenderness given the urgency of his kiss.
We spent the night exploring each other—his fingers tracing every curve and hollow of my body, his mouth following the same path until I was writhing beneath him. When I flipped our positions, pinning his wrists above his head, he arched his back, exposing his throat with a whimper that sent heat pooling low in my belly. I leaned down, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, sucking and biting until he was panting my name like a prayer. His legs wrapped around my waist, heels digging into my lower back, urging me closer.
I took my time worshipping his body, mapping the places that made him moan, the spots that made him dig his fingers into my shoulders. When I finally took him, the sound he made—half growl, half sob—nearly undid me. We moved together in perfect rhythm, his nails scoring lines down my back, my teeth marking his shoulder, his neck, anywhere I could reach.
Later, we lay tangled together, his head on my chest, his leg thrown over mine, arm wrapped around my waist. My fingers traced lazy patterns on his sweat-cooled skin, following the curve of his spine, the dimples at the small of his back. He hummed contentedly, pressing soft kisses to my chest, his tongue occasionally darting out to taste the salt on my skin.
"I never thought I'd find this," he whispered, fingers intertwined with mine, bringing them to his lips for a gentle kiss. His other hand traced circles around my navel, dipping lower teasingly before moving back up. "Someone who makes both sides of me feel whole."
I pressed my lips to his forehead, then tilted his chin up for a slow, deep kiss that left us both breathless. My hand cupped the back of his neck, massaging gently as our foreheads pressed together. "You never have to choose again," I promised, rolling us so we lay on our sides, face to face, legs intertwined, my thigh between his. "Not with me."
He smiled, a rare, unguarded expression that transformed his face, before nuzzling closer, his nose pressed against my throat, breathing me in as if memorizing my scent. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close, feeling the steady beat of his heart against mine as we drifted toward sleep, still connected in every way possible.
