Page 81 of Pack Fever

I hate that when I look at him, my heart flutters. He’s so damn handsome, I have no willpower to completely hate him. That’s when I realize I’m holding his damn cock again and jerking him off.

What the hell’s wrong with me?

On cue with the madness, his dick starts pulsing like he’s about to burst.

Oh, fuck, fuck.

I rip my vice-grip off his massive erection, shoving myself out of bed like I’m on fire.

Reed grunts, making me jump, my heart slamming into my throat.

I whip around on my feet and snatch one of his pillows to cover my naked body, startled to find him pumping into the scrunched-up bed sheets he has bunched up over his cock. While he’s howling his climax, a mix of confusion and shock crosses his face as he stares over at me with wild eyes.

“Wh-What the hell—” He’s suddenly hissing, eyes rolling back as he grips his cock, drenching those sheets, his hips rocking. “What did you do to me?” His voice crackles with disbelief.

“Well, it’s kind of obvious, but I didn’t mean to. This is the last bed I want to be in.” I’m talking fast, nervous as hell. He might be enjoying it, but he doesn’t sound happy.

My gaze stays fixed on him, and I can’t get my feet to move away from his bed. When he finally settles down, he flops back onto the bed, catching his breath, his hand still clutching the bedsheets to himself.

Despite my hot cheeks, the embarrassment in my chest, and the absolute absurdity of the situation, I can’t help it—I burst out laughing. It’s just too much to see his shock while also enjoying himself.

He’s finally upright, standing on the other side of the bed to me, holding the sheets tightly to his groin, wearing an expression of incredulity on his face. He’s blinking like he’s trying to clear the sleep from his eyes and keeps staring down at his predicament.

“You think this is funny?” he growls.

“Wasn’t it good?” I ask, trying to stop myself from chuckling.

His gaze narrows on me. “This is… fuck… non-consensual…” I doubt he’s even fully awake if that’s the best comeback he’s got.

I roll my eyes. “Come on, we were both fast asleep. How would that work?”

Snatching a pillow off the bed, he hurls it at me hard—payback, no doubt, to the last time I did that to him.

I duck as the pillow flies directly over me and crashes into the bedside table, sending everything flying off, including his iPad. It flips onto the floor and switches on, revealing the last thing he was watching—a still image from a video of Jasper bending me over in the elevator, with my bare ass in the air.

My stomach drops to my feet.

“Oh my God…” My voice shudders, my pulse racing, staring up at him, then back down at the iPad. “You kept the video from the elevator and have been watching it?”

I stand there, frozen, while a corner of his mouth pulls upward in a devious grin when I glance back up at him, proving just how guilty he is.

“A guy’s got to deal with boredom somehow, especially with all the sounds you were making in Seth’s room last night,” he chides, as if he has to be an asshole at any chance he gets. “But don’t get too excited. The video did nothing for me.”

I stand there, shaking from his insult, then glance back down at the image of Jasper and me on his iPad screen, glaring up at me. I should shake it off, ignore him, yet my response blurts out.

But that’s when I notice him also staring at my scared arm…and a horrible sensation ripples over me. One of disgust in myself, of needing to cover myself and hide from the world.

What’s he thinking? How revolting I am, how disgusted he must feel at the thought of me touching him?

“Stop staring at me,” I murmur, curling in on myself, stepping away, needing to get out of there. “And I get it. I’m not good enough for you.” There’s a sharper edge to my voice I hadn’t expected, but his earlier flippant remark hurt me, his eyes on my disfigured arm like being exposed for the real ugly Omega I am.

As he straightens, looking every bit the handsome jerk that he is.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he grunts, and his words irritate me.

Is he deliberately pushing my buttons? I turn to my side so my arm is facing away from him.

“Well then, enlighten me,” I shoot back, a shiver climbing through me at having this argument here, now. I don’t know why I bother and should just get the hell out of his room… Except if I’m going to keep sleepwalking into his room because something is happening to us on an unconscious level, I need to understand him.

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