Lights, Camera, Omega (Hollywood Omegas #1)

“You look enchanting, Daphne,” Julian marvels, leaning in to kiss my cheeks.

Feeling bold, I reach up and gently cup his chin before he can press his full lips to the side of my cheekbone—redirecting his lips to mine.

Julian doesn’t need any coaxing, as my eyelids drift closed–I can feel his hands come to rest on my hips—his fingers gently clutching at the slinky material of my dress.

“Hey, why didn’t I get one of those?” Sol pouts as mine and Julian’s faces part.

“You’re welcome to one.” I raise a brow playfully, Julian’s chin still cupped in my hand, his fingers still perched on the pinch of my waist.

Sol doesn’t require any additional prompting. He sidles up to us—dipping his face down to meet mine with a gentle brush of his lips.

I’m about to deepen the kiss, my body moving on its own accord, when a low, rumbling sound breaks my focus.

I pull my face away from Sol’s.

“Oh please, don’t stop on my account,” Magnus’s rasping baritone pours over me like expensive liquor over crags of crystal-clear ice.

He stands, almost silhouetted by the bright light from the hallway; the deep aegean blue of his raw silk button down, make the golden flecks in his deep maroon eyes appear to glow as he watches us with visible appetite.

“Magnus, what makes you think I don’t want a hello kiss from you, too?” I wink at him through a flash of gold lashes.

“Well, if the lady wishes it so…” He runs a hand back through his silvery, ash blond coif as he crosses the immaculate tile floor to where I stand bracketed by Julian and Sol.

Magnus lets one of his arms slip around Julian’s waist, his other hand overlapping Julian’s on my waist as Magnus leans in to lock his lips with mine.

I can hear Sol’s purr turn into a hungry growl.

I allow my weight to shift from one foot to the other, shifting my center of gravity so that I pull Magnus and Julian with me toward Sol—when I hear the barely leashed heat of Cosmo’s voice, sizzling over the low jazz music like the haze of a heat mirage above burning pavement.

“How is it that I’m always late to this particular party?”

Despite the heat, Cosmo is deliciously wrapped in a pair of dark denim fuck me jeans, with a good portion of his bare chest visible through the half-undone black button down.

Like a marionette pulled on invisible strings, I break away from Sol, Magnus, and Julian, the gentle swish of my satin dress accompanying the jazz pianist in the otherwise silent dining room as I cross the floor to him.

“I thought that great actors and sex symbols were something like wizards,” I purr, snaking my hips as I walk.

“Never early, never late—” as soon as I’m close enough to him, I take a handful of the front of his shirt in my hands, gently reeling him in–guiding him to stoop from his towering height down to my level so that I can kiss him.

I’m more than a little surprised when he wraps his arms around me, tightening his grip on me so that he can almost lift me out of my shoes so that our lips meet; his scent like night blooming jasmine, smoky hinoki, and sweet almond—pulling me into a dreamy twilight cloud, I don’t want to emerge from.

I’ve almost completely melted into Cosmo’s embrace when I hear the muffled, staccato snap of a camera shutter.

Cosmo and I surface from our kiss to see Magnus—standing like some gawky bird; half on one foot—body craned at an awkward angle to get the shot.

“I’m sorry, I suppose I should have asked first, but it would have ruined the moment I wanted to capture and I figured it’s just for us anyway,” he excuses himself, surprisingly bashful for the great auteur.

As if some sort of spell has been broken—Cosmo lets me go, my little kitten heels making a pronounced click-clacking noise as my feet make contact with the tile floor once more.

“Excuse me, I didn’t mean to get carried away.” Cosmo’s faceted tanzanite eyes cast down and away from me from behind his gold wireframe glasses.

“Please, there’s no need to apologize,” I laugh, drifting back toward the rest of the group and the fully set dinner table.

“Well, this certainly is beginning to feel like more of a formality than it did this morning,” Sol chuckles warmly, pulling one of the tall-backed chairs away from one of the heads of the long dining table.

Everyone, even Cosmo, snickers in response.

“May as well get the awkwardness right out of the way,” Julian sing-songs, grabbing a chilled bottle from the ice bucket and making his way around the table, filling our crystal flutes.