His Mafia Prince

(WESLEY)

Dusk sets in and the room is dark except for the nightstand. I hear the sound of the shower running. It must be Jericho. I glance at the clock on the side table. It is 7:25 pm. That means that Jericho didn’t stay out all night partying like he told me he would. I smile wryly. That means that he didn’t stay out with another omega. Then it occurs to me that maybe he is taking a shower because he slept with another omega.

Fuck.

My heart sinks when I remember that I have no claim over Jericho. Even though we aren’t together-together, I still find the idea that he might want another omega gut wrenching. If he left me here naked, primed up and willing, only to go out there to find another omega to fuck, it would hurt. Like hell.

I begin to roll over but then I groan, because my hands are still cuffed to the headboard. They’ve been stuck in the cuffs since Jericho left and my arms hurt like hell. The bathroom door slides open and Jericho walks out in a cloud of steam. The bathroom light illuminates his naked figure, making my dick twitch with interest even though my arms hurt.

For a moment, he doesn’t move. Instead, he watches me from the bathroom doorway as he towels off his shoulders. He lowers the towel, walks over and stands at the foot of the bed. Our gazes meet and I slowly run my gaze over his naked frame. I can’t help myself. He is so fucking sexy, and I want him so badly, even though I’m still mad at him for cuffing me.

Quit being pathetic.

I have to stop myself from lusting for him. Especially after what he did to me. So, I lift my head and say, "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah, so much fun." I notice he slurs slightly and he doesn’t sound like he actually had fun. He sounds sort of glum.

"Are you drunk?" I frown.

"No." he scoffs.