MY MALE OMEGA IS IN HEAT

CHAPTER 6

After a while, I turned slightly, my gaze still on him.

“Be quick,” I said to the tailor, my voice dry, edged with quiet dominance.

He nodded immediately. “Of course, ma’am.”

His hands moved efficiently, measuring Kai with practiced precision. The tape slid across his shoulders, his chest, his waist—Kai standing stiff the entire time, trying not to react, trying not to show how aware he was of every touch, every glance.

I didn’t look away.

Not once.

After a few minutes, the tailor stepped back, jotting down the final numbers before turning to me.

“It’s done, miss. In one week, his clothes will be ready,” he said, respect clear in his voice.

“Good. You can go now,” I replied calmly, my eyes still fixed on Kai.

The tailor nodded and quietly left the room.

The door closed.

Silence settled in the hall.

Now it was just the two of us.

Kai stood there, still, shoulders slightly tense, fingers brushing against the oversized sleeves as if he didn’t know what to do with himself. The clothes hung loosely on him, but even like this… even unpolished…

He was striking.

Too striking.

My gaze lingered longer than necessary.

Just a little more care, a little refinement…

And he would be impossible to ignore.

I stepped toward him.

Slow.

Deliberate.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t step back.

But I could see it—the nervous shift in his breathing, the way his posture stiffened just slightly as I stopped right in front of him.

Close.

Close enough to feel the warmth of him again.

I leaned in just a little, enough that my voice didn’t need to rise.

“Come on…” I murmured, a faint smirk touching my lips. “Why are you nervous?”

My eyes locked onto his.

“Where’s the fire I saw in your eyes a moment ago?”

He swallowed.

I saw it.

Felt it.

His gaze flickered, that same fire still there—but restrained now, tangled with uncertainty, with something new he didn’t quite understand yet.

I tilted my head slightly, studying him, my voice softer but still laced with control.

“It didn’t disappear that quickly, did it?”

My hand lifted slowly, not touching—just hovering near his jaw, close enough to make him aware of it.

“Or are you just… trying to hide it from me now?”

His breath hitched again.

And this time—

I smiled.

I stepped closer, closing the distance between us until there was barely any space left.

Slowly, deliberately, I lifted my hand.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

My fingers brushed against his chest first, light but intentional. I could feel the warmth beneath the fabric, the way his body reacted instantly to even the smallest touch.

I let my hand slide lower—over the line of his torso, slow enough that every second stretched between us, heavy with awareness.

His breath hitched.

I felt it more than heard it.

By the time my hand paused just above his waist, he was already tense beneath my touch, completely aware of what I was doing… and waiting.

I didn’t rush.

I let the moment sit there.

Then, just barely, I leaned in and let my fingertips brush lightly against his outline of his c**k through the fabric.

He froze.

His eyes widened instantly, shock flashing across his face as heat rushed to his cheeks, staining them a deep red.

“It’s intense,” I murmured, my voice low, calm—almost thoughtful—as I watched him closely, a faint smirk resting at the corner of my lips.

He couldn’t even respond.

Couldn’t look away.

Couldn’t move.

For a moment, I just observed him like that—flustered, overwhelmed, still trying to hold onto that fragile pride of his.

Then I pulled my hand back.

Just as slowly.

Just as deliberately.

“Enough teasing for today,” I said, my tone shifting—cool again, controlled, but not entirely without warmth.

I stepped back, giving him space, though my gaze never left his face.

“Go to your room.”

He stood there for a second, still processing, still flushed, still caught somewhere between defiance and something far more uncertain.

And I let him.

Because this—

This was only the beginning.