Page 108 of Captive Omega

Blaine doesn’t like to be touched, and Vaughn is probably a little too eager to touch me.

There’s no probably about it. You saw the way he checked to make sure you were watching him stretch out his quads.

Vaughn steps into a low lunge. “He said he’ll be here. He’ll be here.”

“What are you doing?” Other than trying to get me to notice every muscle you possess.

“Stretching my glutes.” He twists to face me, his expression so innocent I don’t buy it for a second. “Wouldn’t want to pull anything.”

“And if he doesn’t?” I flick my gaze to the gym door to avoid Vaughn’s extended stretching session. “Do you think I should tell him not to bother?”

“He’ll be here,” Vaughn assures me.

He’s an alpha, and I have no love for them, but he’s insecure about his scars and he doesn’t let anyone touch him. Would he even have volunteered to teach me if I hadn’t stained that bitch’s dress? “If this is going to be an issue…”

“Blaine knows his own mind. If he says he wants to do it, he’ll do it.”

I raise my brow. “He doesn’t like to be touched.”

“But I do like to be touched.” He winks.

And that is why I’m positive he came to this sparring session shirtless on purpose.

The door swings open, and there’s no missing the tension on Blaine’s shoulders. I bounce on the heels of my feet, excited, nervous, and guilty that I’ve pushed him to do something that clearly makes him uncomfortable.

He hasn’t changed out of his black pants, turtleneck, and sneakers. As he walks toward us, his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose and I strangle the same urge to push them up as I did at the party.

“Sorry I’m late. I was thinking about how this would work.” Blaine stops at the edge of the mat and nudges his glasses back up.

Vaughn does a back spring to his feet.

How he ended up down there when he was trying to get me to look at his ass, I have no clue. I flatten my lips to hide my smile, pretending not to notice his acrobatics, the rapid glance my way, or the sad sigh when he realizes I wasn’t looking.

Blaine stuffs his hands in his pockets.

He looks so serious that I brace myself for him to tell me he’s changed his mind. “You need quick and dirty.”

“I need what now?”

“Yes! I like the sound of that.” Vaughn bumps his shoulder with mine and I get the feeling his version of quick and dirty might not be the same as Blaine’s. At least I hope not.

I think not.

Maybe?

“We need the element of surprise. Learning martial arts—any martial arts—takes a lot of time and conditioning. Quick and dirty will give you a handful of tools to get yourself out of a sticky situation,” Blaine explains.

“O’Brien and his men are professionals. Do you seriously think I could do any damage to trained security people?” I ask doubtfully.

“Anyone can do damage if they move fast enough,” Blaine says emphatically, though I’m not sure I believe him.

“Or if you surprise them,” Vaughn adds.

He pretended to be a drunk and blew two trained professionals away. And I killed Rupert with an unexpected shove out of a window.

“A man can usually guess that when a woman fights back where she’s going to hit. That is, forgive my pun, low hanging fruit,” Blaine says, lip twitching.

I smile, and Vaughn snorts a laugh.

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